Part 2 (2/2)

She was so fond of her sister that she liked Peggy's clothes better than her own.

”Oh, dear!” said Peggy. ”I like it so much because it's smocked. But I hope I can wear the dotted muslin. That's my favorite dress.”

But, alas, the dotted muslin was only half an inch longer than the cotton rep, and there were no tucks in that either.

Peggy skipped about the room again, and she tried to persuade her mother that it would be possible for her to wear the dress.

”I don't mind if it is rather short, mother,” she said.

”I can't have you going around with skirts like a ballet dancer.”

”But you could let the hem down, or put in insertion, or something,”

said Peggy.

”But the waist is too small for you, and the dress will be just right for Alice.”

The pink dress and the plaid one were too small for Peggy, too, so Alice became the proud possessor of Peggy's frocks, which would fit her very well after tucks had been taken in them.

”I've three pink dresses now and four white ones and two plaids and a yellow,” said Alice.

”And I've nothing at all,” said Peggy.

”It's too bad,” said Alice, ”but yours will all be new.”

The first chance Mrs. Owen had to go to the village she said she would buy the materials for Peggy's summer frocks.

”I've got to get something for working dresses for myself, too,” she said.

She took the children with her, and they had a joyous time, for it was one of those suns.h.i.+ny afternoons when everything was so gay and cheerful that it seemed to Peggy as if the whole world were smiling. The sun seemed positively to laugh, and the blue sky and the white clouds seemed almost as glad as he. Alice walked quietly along, taking hold of her mother's hand; but Peggy had to run along ahead of them every now and then. She wanted to dance and shout with the joy of it all.

”Oh, Mother, there's Mrs. Butler and her canary-bird,” said Peggy, as they pa.s.sed a small gray house. ”Let's stop and make her a call.”

”Not to-day,” said Mrs. Owen. ”We'll never get our shopping done if we stop to call on all the neighbors.”

When they came to the smoothly finished stone wall in front of the Thorntons' large place, Peggy climbed up so she could have the pleasure of walking across it.

”Come, Alice,” she said, helping her small sister up.

”Oh, children,” said their mother in despair, ”we shall never get downtown.”

But they did get there at last, although they met several of their neighbors on the road, and Peggy stopped to caress a black p.u.s.s.y-cat and make friends with a yellow collie dog. The shop seemed very dark after the brightness of the spring suns.h.i.+ne outdoors. The saleswomen seemed sleepy and not at all interested in what they were selling. Peggy thought they probably did not live so far from the village; they could not have had such a joyous walk as they had had, or met so many friends.

”Oh, that beautiful collie dog! How lucky the Thorntons were to have him! And the black p.u.s.s.y was a darling, not half so beautiful, of course, as Lady Jane, but still, a darling.” She sighed when she thought of Lady Jane.

She had slipped away again to her old home, and a few days later the same boy had brought her back in the same basket. The children had not seen him, for they were at school when he came, and their mother did not ask him how many children there were in the family. She had discovered, however, that his name was Christopher. They had kept p.u.s.s.y in the house since then, hoping in this way to get her used to the place. But she seemed very anxious to get out, and in this April weather Peggy did not feel it quite kind to keep her indoors. She would not like it herself, and one should do as one would be done by.

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