"Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "Miss
Graham has heard all about me, and knows what a _very_ important person
I am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought you
wanted to begin weaving this afternoon."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I want
to give you a little ride before I go back to the farm. May she go, Mrs.
Chirk? It is such a beautiful day, I am sure the air will do her good.
Would you like it, Pink?"
Pink looked up with a flush of pleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh," she
said, "would I like it! But it's too much for you to do, Miss Graham."
"An' with that beautiful dress on too!" cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get it
dusty on the wheel, I'm afraid. I don't think--"
"Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards the
door. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" she
added, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set my
heart on this."
Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its strings
under Pink's chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against its
extreme ugliness. "She shall not wear _that_ again," said she to
herself, "if I can help it." But the sweet pale face looked out so
joyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocrat
relented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She would
look like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head." And
then she laughed at the thought of a black japanned scuttle crowning
those fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so they
both went laughing out into the sunshine.
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