“I hope the poor little thing will like this dress that Nell was so kind as to find for her. But, 175 to tell the truth, Amy, it seems a little old for Henrietta.”
“Is it a cape-coat suit?” giggled her friend.
“It is a little taffeta silk, and Nell said it was cut in a style so disgracefully freakish that she would not let Sally wear it. It was bought at one of those ultra-shops on Fifth Avenue where they have styles for children that ape the frocks their big sisters wear.”
“Let’s see it,” urged Amy, with curiosity.
“Wait till you see it on Henrietta. There are undies, too, and stockings and a pair of shoes that I hope will fit her. But consider! Taffeta silk for a child like Henrietta.”
There could be no doubt that the girls from Roselawn were welcome when they landed at Dogtown and came to the Foley house. The greater number of the village children seemed to have swarmed elsewhere; but little Henrietta was sitting on the steps of the house holding the next-to-the-youngest Foley in her arms.
“Hush!” she hissed, holding up an admonishing finger. “He’s ’most gone. When he goes I’ll lay him in that soap-box and cover him with the mosquito netting. Then I can tend to you.”
“The little, old-fashioned thing,” murmured Amy. “It isn’t right, Jess.”
Jessie understood and nodded. She was glad that Amy showed a certain amount of sympathy 176 for Henrietta and appreciation of her. In a few moments the child was utterly relaxed and Henrietta got up and staggered over to the soap-box on wheels and laid the sleeper down upon a pillow.
“He ought to sleep an hour,” said little Henrietta, covering Billy Foley carefully so that the flies could not bite his fat, red legs. “I ain’t got nothing to do now but to sweep out the house, wash the dishes in the sink, clean the clinkers out of the stove, hang out a line for clothes, and make the beds before Mrs. Foley and the baby get back. I can talk to you girls while I’m doing them things.”