“She only says ‘Papa,’ ‘Mamma,’ ‘Hattie.’ She talks just about as well as the baby does, and they play together half the time.”
“Does she go to school?” asked Flaxie, growing very much interested indeed.
“To school? Oh no! she couldn’t learn anything,” said Mrs. Chase, sighing.
But Hattie seemed rather proud of having such a strange sister.
“See that?” said she, holding up Lucy’s right hand.
“Why, it’s littler than mine, and all dried up,” exclaimed Flaxie Frizzle.
“Poor dear, she has lost her mittens again,” said Mrs. Chase, wiping Lucy’s mouth. “I can’t afford to keep buying mittens for her, she loses them so.”
“Wouldn’t it be well to fasten them to her cloak-sleeve by a string?” asked Mrs. Allen.
Flaxie gazed bewildered at this singular little girl, who could not wipe her own mouth, or talk, or go to school. She had never known of such a little girl before.
“Too bad about Lucy!” said she, thoughtfully, to her aunt as they got out at Chicopee, and left the whole Chase family looking after them from the car-window. “Is Lucy poor?”