The Mary Frances sewing book

by Jane Eayre Fryer

“S’sh!
s’sh!”

MARY FRANCES tip-toed into the sewing room.

“S’sh! s’sh!” she said. “Oh, Thimble People, I’ve,—oh, dear me! Oh, Magic and Mystery,—I’ve got the bath-tub half full of water. It’s the ocean, I have my sail-boat on it, and Mary Marie is going in bathing—when I’ve finished my lesson. I just dipped her feet in to see how she’d like it—I can’t exactly say Grandma would approve—but Mother would let me, I think.”

“Isn’t it strange? My grandmother—my mother’s mother—doesn’t think exactly as her little girl, my mother, does. Now, I generally always think almost exactly what my mother thinks is right.”

“‛Generally always almost exactly,’” whispered Scissors Shears to Tommy Pin Cushion. “That’s the way I agree with Sewing Bird.”

“And you, Tommy Pin Cushion?” asked Emery Bag.

“And you, Tommy Pin Cushion?”

“And I—” began Tommy Pin Cushion.