She had spent half of her short life out of doors, and almost considered it lost time when she was obliged to stay in the house for the rain.
Mrs. Parlin kept saying it was high time for her eldest daughter to begin to be womanly, and do long stints with her needle: she could not sew as well now as she sewed two years ago.
But Mr. Parlin laughed at his wife's anxiety, and said he loved Susy's red cheeks; he didn't care if she grew as brown as an Indian. She was never rude or coarse, he thought; and she would be womanly enough one of these days, he was quite sure.
"Anything," said Mr. Parlin, "but these womanly little girls, such as I have seen sitting in a row, sewing seams, without animation enough to tear rents in their own dresses! If Susy loves birds, and flowers, and snowbanks, I am thankful, and perfectly willing she should have plenty of them for playthings."
Then, when Mrs. Parlin smiled mischievously, and said, "I should like to know what sort of a wild Arab you would make out of a little girl," Mr. Parlin answered triumphantly,— "Look at my sister Margaret! I brought her up my own self! I always took her out in the woods with me, gunning and trouting. I taught her how to skate when she was a mere baby. I often said she was all the brother I had in the world! She can remember now how I used to wrap her in shawls, and prop her up on the woodpile, while I chopped wood."
"And how you hired her to drop ears of corn for you into the corn-sheller; and how, one day, her fingers were so benumbed, that one of them was clipped off before she knew it!"
"Well, so it was, that is true; but only the tip of it. Active children will meet with accidents. She was a regular little fly-away, and would sooner climb a tree or a ladder any time, than walk on solid ground. Now look at her!"
And Mr. Parlin repeated the words, "Now look at her," as if he was sure his wife must confess that she was a remarkable person.
Mrs. Parlin said, if Susy should ever become half as excellent and charming as Miss Margaret Parlin, she should be perfectly satisfied, for her part.
Thus Susy was allowed to romp to her heart's content; "fairly ran wild," as aunt Eastman declared, with a frown of disapproval. She gathered wild roses, and wore them in her cheeks, the very best place in the world for roses. She drank in sunshine with the fresh air of heaven, just as the flowers do, and thrived on it.