"O, bless your careful heart! I won't hurt it the least speck in the world. Will I, Birdie?"
And she proceeded to wrap her tiny self in the long, wide apron.
"Not that pan, child!" exclaimed her mother "That's a milk-pan."
"O," said Sadie, "I thought it was pretty shiny. My! what a great pan. Don't you come near me, Birdie, or you'll tumble in and drown yourself before I could fish you out with the dish-cloth. Where is that article? Ester, it needs a patch on it; there's a great hole in the middle, and it twists every way."
"Patch it, then," said Ester, dryly.
"Well, now I'm ready, here goes. Do you want these washed?" And she seized upon a stack of tins which stood on Ester's table.
"Do let things alone!" said Ester. "Those are my baking-tins, ready for use; now you've got them wet, and I shall have to go all over them again."
"How will you go, Ester? On foot? They look pretty greasy; you'll slip."
"I wish you would go up stairs. I'd rather wash dishes all the forenoon than have you in the way."
"Birdie," said Sadie gravely, "you and I musn't go near Auntie Essie again. She's a 'bowwow,' and I'm afraid she'll bite."