"Here is some nice arrow-root," said she. "You may have it all if you like. You are a darling little girl not to tease for things you ought not to have."
"I believe," she went on, looking at patient little Prudy, as she drained the bowl, "I should like to give such a good child a pretty present."
"O, dear me suz!" screamed Prudy, "I'm glad I didn't go to heaven yet.—Will it be a little wee doll that can live in a thimble?—made out of sugar?"
"Well," said grandma, "I don't know, You may be thinking all day what you would like best. Not to eat, dear, but to keep, remember. Now I must go down stairs—but here come Grace and Susy, so you won't be lonesome."
It was pleasant to see how softly the little girls entered the room, and how the glad smiles came and went on Prudy's face when they tried to amuse her.
They were dressed in a very funny rig. Susy looked a great deal wiser than an owl, out of a pair of spectacles without any eyes, and a flaring cap. Grace had stuck some false hair on her head, and a bonnet that looked as if a wagon wheel had rolled over it.
"Fine day, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace; "how have you been, ma'am?"
"I've been a-thinkin'," said Prudy, smiling, "about my present."
"You see we've come a-visiting, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace. "Very sorry, ma'am, to see your doll looking so sick. Has she got the smallpox?"
"No, ma'am," answered Prudy, delighted, "she's got the measles!"