"Well, what do you want to hear?"
Now, it was natural for Susy to feel cross when she was sleepy. It cost her a hard struggle to speak pleasantly, and when she succeeded in doing so, I set it down as one of her greatest victories over herself. The Quaker motto of her grandmother, "Let patience have her perfect work," helped her sometimes, when she could wake up enough to remember it.
"Tell 'bout little yellow gell," said the voice of the mosquito, over and over again.
Susy roused herself after the third request, and sleepily asked if something else wouldn't do?
"I had a little nobby-colt."
"No, no, you di'n't, you di'n't; grandma had the nobby! Tell yellow gell."
"O," sighed Susy, "how can you want to hear that so many, many times? Well, once when I was a little bit of a girl—"
"'Bout's big as me, you said," put in Dotty.
"O, yes, I did say so once, and I suppose I must tell it so every time, or you'll fuss! Well, I had a yellow dress all striped off in checks—"
"Di'n't it go this way?" said Dotty, smoothing the sheet with her little hand, "and this way?"