"Let's catch him!" cried Susy, darting after her ungallant cousin; but he ran so fast, and flourished his garden hoe so recklessly, that she gave up the chase.
"Let him go," said Grace, with a fine-lady air: "who cares about rag-bags? We've outgrown that sort of thing, you and I, Susy; let the little girls have our share."
"Yes, to be sure," replied Susy, faintly, though not without a pang, for she still retained a childish fondness for jujube paste, and was not allowed a great abundance of pocket-money. "Yes, to be sure, let the little girls have our share."
"Then may we three youngest have the whole rag-bag?" said Prudy, brightly. "Dotty, you and I will trundle the wheelbarrow, and Fly shall go behind."
"What an idea!" exclaimed Grace. "I've seen little beggar children drawing a dog-cart. Grandma'll never allow such a thing."
"Indeed I will," said grandma, tying on her checked apron. "Dog-carts or wheel-barrows, so they only take care not to be rude. In a city it is different."
"Yes, grandma," said Dotty, twisting her front hair joyfully; "but here in the country they want little girls to have good times—don't they? Why don't everybody move into the country, do you s'pose? Lots of bare spots round here,—nothing on 'em but cows."
"Yes, nuffin' but gampa's cows," chimed in Flyaway, twisting her front hair.
"Louisa," said Mrs. Parlin, "you may help me about this loaf of 'Maine plum cake,' and while you are beating the butter and sugar I will look over the rag-bag. Dotty, please run for my spectacles."
When Dotty returned with the spectacles, Jennie Vance came with her, pouting a little at the cool reception she had met, and thinking Miss Dimple hardly polite because she was too much interested in an old rag-bag to pay proper attention to visitors.