"That's what my sister Bessie always calls me," said Florence, kissing the little one more tenderly.
"When are you going to show me the picture of that wonderful Bessie?" asked Susie, straightening out the daisies on her hat as they went slowly down the walk.
"I should have brought it over this morning if I hadn't something else on my mind to tell you."
A moment later the pretty pony was carrying the young girls along at an easy gait, pricking up his ears occasionally, as if to catch the drift of the gay chatter going on behind him.
"By-the-way," Florence was saying, "I found this scrap of paper on the floor this morning when I was over at school," handing it to her companion. "The girls were all clearing out their desks—"
But Susie had read the few pencilled words, and looked aghast: "Vote for F. T. We're all going to. S. K. wishes it."
The pony was walking leisurely along. Florence had dropped the reins; her arms were about Susie's neck. "To think I never suspected it!" she said, kissing her.
"I never wanted you to know," said Susie, "and if it hadn't been for Sadie's carelessness—"
"Oh, I'm glad I do know—just as glad as can be, and I can never thank you enough."
"I don't deserve any thanks at all," protested Susie; "and if I did, I felt fully repaid when your uncle offered his grounds, and looked so kindly at—"