"Did he?" said Nellie, much shocked.
"Yes," said Daisy, removing the hat so far that she was able to peep out with one eye at her sister, "he did. He called me 'Bub,' and I'm not a bub, now."
Nellie was far from wishing to wound Daisy's feelings afresh; but this mild specimen of swearing struck her as so intensely funny that she could not keep back a peal of laughter,—a peal so merry and hearty that it rejoiced her mother's heart, who had not heard Nellie laugh like that for several weeks.
Daisy's tears redoubled at this. She had expected sympathy and indignation from Nellie, and here she was actually laughing.
"You oughtn't to laugh," she said resentfully; "it is very naughty to swear bad names at little girls, and I shan't eat the meat that bad butcher-man brought."
Nellie sat down beside the insulted little one, and, smothering her laughter, said coaxingly,—
"I wouldn't mind that, Daisy. Here, dry your eyes."
"Yes, you would," sobbed Daisy, taking down the hat, but rejecting the pocket handkerchief her sister offered; "I have a potterhancher of my own in my pottet;" and she pulled out the ten-inch square article in question, and mournfully obeyed Nellie's directions.
"He called me a fellow too, and he ought to see I don't wear boys' clothes," she added.