"Didn't we have a good time?" said Florence, looking out on the
moonlight, as she stood at the window in Dimple's room.
"Yes," was Dimple's reply, "all but the snake. I don't like snakes."
But the next evening it was evident that Bubbles still bore the subject
of snakes in her mind. Mr. and Mrs. Dallas had gone out. Dimple,
Florence and Bubbles were sitting on the floor by one of the front
windows.
The air was full of the scent of the honeysuckle, and the katydids were
contradicting each other in the trees.
"What quarrelsome things they are," said Florence. "Do you suppose they
will ever find out whether katy did or not? I'd like to know what she
did, anyhow."
"Or what she didn't," said Dimple. "Bubbles, are you asleep?" giving her
a shake.
"Thinkin'," said Bubbles, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes.
"Then what are you rubbing your eyes for?"
"'Cause it's dark. I can't see good," returned Bubbles.
"I declare," Dimple said, "I never know what to do with myself when
mamma goes out; it seems to me she is very intimate with Mrs. Hardy.
Florence, suppose you tell a story."
"Oh, I can't," replied Florence. "I never could. I never know what to
tell about. You tell."
"I don't know any except Cinderella and the Seven Swans, and those.
Bubbles will have to do it.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144