“What was her good p’ints, hey?”
“Oh, well, she had a wide-awake pair of eyes, a bright, jolly sort of a face, lots of curly hair tumblin’ out of her net, a trig little figger, and a pair of the neatest feet and ankles that ever stepped. ‘Pretty,’ thinks I; ‘so far so good.’ The way she whacked the pillers, shook the blankets, and pitched into the beds was a caution; specially one blunderin’ old feather-bed that wouldn’t do nothin’ but sag round in a pig-headed sort of way, that would have made most girls get mad and give up. Kitty didn’t, but just wrastled with it like a good one, till she got it turned, banged, and spread to suit her; then she plumped down in the middle of it, with a sarcy little nod and chuckle to herself, that tickled me mightily. ‘Plucky,’ thinks I, ‘better ’n’ better.’ Jest then an old woman came flyin’ out the back-door, callin’, ‘Kitty! Kitty! Squire Partridge’s son’s here, ’long with a friend; been gunnin’, want luncheon, and I’m all in the suds; do come down and see to ’em.’
“‘Where are they?’ says Kitty, scrambling up her hair and settlin’ her gown in a jiffy, as women have a knack of doin’, you know.
“‘Mr. Joe’s in the front entry; the other man’s somewheres round, Billy says, waitin’ till I send word whether they can stop. I darsn’t till I’d seen you, for I can’t do nothin’, I’m in such a mess,’ says the old lady.
“‘So am I, for I can’t get in except by the entry window, and he’ll see me,’ says Kitty, gigglin’ at the thoughts of Joe.
“‘Come down the ladder, there’s a dear. I’ll pull it round and keep it stiddy,’ says her mother.
“‘Oh, ma, don’t ask me!’ says Kitty, with a shiver. ‘I’m dreadfully scared of ladders since I broke my arm off this very one. It’s so high, it makes me dizzy jest to think of.’
“‘Well, then, I’ll do the best I can; but I wish them boys was to Jericho!’ says the old lady, with a groan, for she was fat and hot, had her gown pinned up, and was in a fluster generally. She was goin’ off rather huffy, when Kitty called out,—
“‘Stop, ma! I’ll come down and help you, only ketch me if I tumble.’
“She looked scared but stiddy, and I’ll bet it took as much grit for her to do it as for one of us to face a battery. It don’t seem much to tell of, but I wish I may be hit if it wasn’t a right down dutiful and clever thing to see done. When the old lady took her off at the bottom, with a good motherly hug, ‘Good,’ thinks I; ‘what more do you want?’”