He
cries lumpy, I know, but his goos are all right. The kid
in the book she is readin' could say 'Daddy-dinger' before
he was as old as the czar is, and it's awful hard on her.
You see, he can't pat-a-cake, or this-little-pig-went-to-
market, or wave a bye-bye or nothin'. I never told her
what Danny could do when he was this age. But I am workin'
hard to get him to say 'Daddy-dinger.' She has her heart
set on that. Well, I must go on now."
The doctor lifted his hat, and the imperial carriage
moved on.
She had gone a short distance when she remembered something:
"I'll let you know when he says it, doc!" she shouted.
"All right, don't forget," he smiled back.
When Pearlie turned the next corner she met Maudie Ducker.
Maudie Ducker had on a new plaid dress with velvet
trimming, and Maudie knew it.
"Is that your Sunday dress," she asked Pearl, looking
critically at Pearlie's faded little brown winsey.
"My, no!" Pearlie answered cheerfully. "This is just my
morning dress. I wear my blue satting in the afternoon,
and on Sundays, my purple velvet with the watter-plait,
and basque-yoke of tartaric plaid, garnished with lace.
Yours is a nice little plain dress. That stuff fades
though; ma lined a quilt for the boys' bed with it and
it faded gray."
Maudie Ducker was a "perfect little lady." Her mother
often said so; Maudie could not bear to sit near a child
in school who had on a dirty pinafore or ragged clothes,
and the number of days that she could wear a pinafore
without its showing one trace of stain was simply wonderful!
Maudie had two dolls which she never played with.
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