Little Ida danced up and down, holding back the skirt of her dress to display the present papa had brought her.
"Very pretty," said Aunt Mary. "I hope my little niece will never let them carry her into mischief."
"No, indeed, aunty! I'm going to be a real good girl now. See how softly I can step in them."
And she went on tiptoe to the door of the bedroom, where her mother was confined with an attack of nervous headache.
Mrs. Kent's head was bandaged tightly with a wet towel, the room being darkened, in the hope she would be able to drop to sleep.
But Ida did not think of this.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
She wanted her mamma to see how nicely her foot looked in the new boot. She was so quick in her motions, that before Aunt Mary knew what she was about, she had pushed a cricket to the side of the bed, and jumped up, boots and all.
"O Ida! What are you doing?" exclaimed the lady, with a groan. "I was just falling asleep. Jump right off the bed, dear; you jar my head dreadfully."