“Their clothes won’t show dirt, that’s one good thing,” responded Pauline, scowling at a mud-stain on her skirt. “Why is it, Molly, that dirt never sticks to you?”
“O Pauline! I think it does stick to me; but it sticks to Weezy a good deal worse. Did you ever see such a child for getting soiled and torn?”
Little Miss Weezy had remained behind at the camp to nurse a newly hatched chicken presented her by Mr. Arnesten.
“What was that, Molly, about Weezy’s losing her stocking?”
“Oh, we were all down on the beach, and nothing would do but Weezy and Harry must go in wading. I put Harry’s shoes and stockings high and dry on the shore, and told Weezy to put hers there too. I suppose she gave them a toss, and they didn’t go far enough. Anyway, when she came out of the water, one stocking had been washed out to sea.”
“How did the child get home, Molly?”
“How did Hi-diddle-dumpling-my-son-John go to bed, Polly?”
“‘One stocking off and one stocking on,’” quoted Pauline gayly. “And you mean to say the poor little image had to skip away back to The Old and New half-dressed like that, Molly?”
“Yes; her gown up to her knees too! It was that navy blue with gilt braid. It shrunk after she fell into the ocean, and it can’t be let down.”
“Were there many people around, Molly?”