One hand was held rigidly by her side, but the other was permitted to spread its fingers widely over the book she carried. Both were well in view if she looked down just a little. Passers-by might see; all Amity Street might see; best of all, Josephine might see!
But Josephine, waiting at the corner, beheld and was impressed to the point of speechlessness. Whereupon Clarabel dropped her book, and had to pick it up with both hands. The furry wrists revealed themselves fully.
Josephine found her voice.
“You’ve got some new gloves,” she said.
“Yes; my Aunt Bessie sent them.”
“Aren’t they pretty!”
“I think so, and they’re lots nicer than mittens. I’m not going to wear my mittens again.”
Josephine looked down at her own chubby hands. Her mittens were red this winter, with a red-and-green fringe around the wrists. Only that morning she had admired them. Now they looked fat and clumsy and altogether unattractive; but she wasn’t going to admit that to any one else.
“clarabel dropped her book, and had to pick it up with both hands.”