"The best cap, Aunt Sylvia--the best cap!" she cried, running for
the one with the fresh lavender ribbons.
"What an extravagant puss!" exclaimed Aunt Sylvia, willing to
humor the gay little heart, and tapping her cheek as the young
girl settled the cap on the lovely gray hair.
"Everything must be best to-day," cried Caryl recklessly. "It's
all fresh and new and fine! All the world is made just for us."
Maum Patty saw Caryl run down the dirty little brick path that
served for all the lodgers in the old house as a walk to the
broken-down gate, with her color-box under her arm, and her
little roll of pictures in her hand, and heaved a sigh from her
ample bosom.
"Dat chile can't make no fortin' like she's a-tinkin' of, but
laws! let her try. Here, yer Viny, yer, be off up to de Missis'
room. Scat now! De pore lettle lamb," she mourned, as her
hopeful grandchild unwillingly dragged her recreant feet off to
her duties, leaving her grandmother to pursue her reflections in
peace, "it mos' busts my heart to see her a-workin' an' de Missis
keepin' up an' pretendin' she's as fine as a queen. 'Twarn't so
in ole Patty's day. Den dar wos plenty-pies and turkeys. Lors,
what stumpers! An' hull bar'ls o' flour, an' sugar, an' a
creation sight of eberyting in de beyeutiful house, an' now look
at dis ole shell!"
Maum Patty tossed her turban in intense scorn at each of the dark
soot-begrimed walls of the place called kitchen.
"Missis ud feel more like folks," she said at each disdainful
scrutiny, "an' like as not git well, ef we cud cut sticks inter
anudder home.
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