“Now, let me see the nails again, Betsy dear. Have you remembered all the time?”
“I forgot twice, Aunt Kate, but I got black on my lips, so I had to remember.”
“Why, they’ve grown out beautifully! Good!”
With a bowl of warm, soapy water and a towel, the fingers were soaked, cleaned and dried. Deftly Aunt Kate cut each tip to a white “moon-rise,” and with an orange stick she found the beginnings of the crescent at the base. When the nails had been polished Betsy did not know them for her own.
“There! They look like rose petals. And now you can do it for yourself next time. This case is for you.”
“Aunt Kate!”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m awful much obliged, and—and—I like you a lot. And—may I do Van’s nails for him, too?”
“Why, if you want to. But his paws have to be on the ground, and he never bites his nails.”
“Well, I’m never going to bite mine any more. Van chews other things, though, Aunt Kate, and—and—may we have another ball, please? He’s chewed that little rubber one all up.”