“Shut up in the clothes press. She put on airs before Dinah, just because she had real eyes and hair. I could not have that, you know, so into the clothes press she went, and she don’t come out until she begs Dinah’s pardon.”
“And where is Miss Flora McFlimsey, who has been the reigning favorite for quite a while?” asked Andrew, amused at the prattle of his innocent child.
“Oh, I drowned her in the lake this morning. Tied a couple of stones to her legs, and then threw her in; and oh, papa, she sunk beautiful, and the cunningest little whirlpool came up where she dropped in.”
“Horrors!” ejaculated Andrew in feigned amazement. “What a blood-thirsty little girl you are! Why, if I am permitted to ask, did you kill her?”
“I didn’t kill her, papa, only just drowned her. I know the very spot. Dan can wade out and get her any time. I mean she shall stay there until she becomes a better child. She hooked all the raspberry jam from the preserve-closet, this morning.”
“You don’t tell me,” said Andrew, seriously. “How did you discover that it was she?”
“Her face was covered with it, just actually ‘smeared’ as mamma says.”
“Was there any jam on your face, chickie?”
Mary looked up and caught the twinkle in her father’s eye.
“Only just a little, where I happened to kiss Flora before she was washed.”