"Well," said Prudy, with a look of immense satisfaction, "please go, Susy, and ask grandma if I may have one of those shiny, white handkerchiefs she wears on her neck, and a cap, and play Quaker."
Grandma was very glad that Prudy felt well enough to play Quaker, and lent her as much "costume" as she needed, as well as a pair of spectacles without eyes, which the children often borrowed for their plays, fancying that they added to the dignity of the wearer.
When Prudy was fairly equipped, she was a droll little Quakeress, surely, and grandma had to be called up from the kitchen to behold her with her own eyes. The little soft face, almost lost in the folds of the expansive cap, was every bit as solemn as if she had been, as aunt Madge said, "a hundred years old, and very old for her age."
She was really a sweet little likeness of grandma Read in miniature.
"And their names are alike, too," said Susy: "grandma's name is Prudence, and so is Prudy's."
"Used to be," said Prudy, gravely.
"Rosy Frances" was now lifted most carefully into her little wheeled chair and no queen ever held a court with more dignity than she assumed as she smoothed into place the folds of her grandma's snowy kerchief, which she wore about her neck.
"What shall we do first?" said Flossy and Susy.
"Thee? thee?" Prudy considered "thee" the most important word of all. "Why, thee may behave; I mean, behave thyselves."
The new teacher had not collected her ideas yet.