3
em>festal board, I mean.
"They were talking about mistle-toe boughs, and all sorts of old-country customs; and then they said what a funny time they had one Christmas, with the youngest, about the mizzle, as he called it: do you remember, ma? do you understand?"
"You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes."
"Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sherwood said to his--I mean, the hat said to the bonnet, that there were some wonderful--ahem--legends, about genii and sprites and--and so forth; not printed, but written, which the boy liked to hear when he was 'overgetting' the measles. A certain lady, not three inches from your chair, ma, was the one who wrote them; and now"--
Prudy had turned about, and the only remnants of her face which looked at all natural--that is, the irises and pupils of her swollen eyes--were shining with curiosity.
"There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is it you don't want me to hear?"
Grace laughed. "Oh, nothing much, dear: never mind."
"You oughtn't to say 'Never mind,'" pursued Prudy: "my mother tells me always to mind."
"I only mean it isn't any matter, Prudy."
"Oh! do you? Then don't you care for my skeeter-bites? You always say, 'Never mind!' I didn't know it wasn't any matter."
"Now, ma," Grace went on, "I want to ask you where are those I-don't-know-what-to-call-'ems? And may I copy them, Cassy and I, into a book, for a certain afflicted relative?"
"Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!" cried Prudy, springing up from the sofa; "oh, do, do; I'll love you dearly if you will! Fairy stories are just as nice! What little Harvey Sherwood likes, I like, and I've had the measles; but I shouldn't think his father and mother'd wear their hat and bonnet to the dinner-table!"
"Deary me!" laughed Grace; "how happened that little thing to mistrust what I meant?"
"It would be strange if a child of her age, of ordinary abilities, should not under