“In me there is my heart, my liver, my lungs, my verform pendicks, my stummick, two ginger cookies, a piece of pepmint candy, and my dinner.”
“For pity’s sake!” Mr. Driggs shut off this explosion by a sudden cough.
“I guess it isn’t much of a composition, Mr. Driggs,” Carolyn May said frankly. “But how can you make your inwards be pleasant reading?”
The minister was having no little difficulty in restraining his mirth.
“Go around to the door, Carolyn May, and ask Mrs. Driggs to let you in. Perhaps I can help you in this composition writing.”
“Oh, will you, Mr. Driggs?” cried the little girl. “That is awful kind of you.”
The minister must have confided in his wife before she came to the door to let Carolyn May in, for she was laughing heartily.
“You funny little thing!” cried Mrs. Driggs, catching her up in her arms. “Mr. Driggs says he is waiting for you—and this sermon day, too! Go into his study.”
The clergyman did not seem to mind neglecting his task for the pleasure of helping Carolyn May with hers. Be explained quite clearly just what Miss Minnie meant by “writing what is in you.”
“Oh! It’s what you think about a thing yourself—not what other folks think,” cried Carolyn May. “Why, I can do that. I thought it was something like those physerology lessons. Then I can write about anything I want to, can’t I?”