Charity’s eyes shone. “Put it on,” she commanded.
The brown face with the soft hair looked very attractive set in the pink muslin frill. Hazel viewed herself in the glass and jumped up and down with pleasure.
“It’s like a play to be wearing a sun-bonnet.”
“Take it off and I’ll show you how to pack it.” And together they put it in the tray.
“I’ve another present, Charity,” Hazel confided, taking out a small package, and showing a long, black hair-ribbon. “It’s from Miss Gray, my teacher. Mother says I must count these presents for Christmas, because I’ll be away at Christmas. Perhaps I’ll put them in my stocking Christmas eve.”
“Pooh! Folks don’t hang up stockings South.”
“Why, Charity, you’d think they didn’t do anything down there.”
Charity cogitated. “They don’t do much,” she decided, and added a little wistfully, “it’s lots more fun on Hammond Street.”
Hazel slipped her hand in her friend’s. “I wish you were going with me,” she whispered.
“I wish you weren’t going away,” Charity whispered back.