A Sweet Little Maid | Page 9

time for it to rain, or everything would dry up."
"Well, I wish it didn't have to," said Florence, coming away from the window, and sitting on the floor too. "What color stockings do you like best, Dimple?"
"I don't know; black, I think. Don't you?"
"I believe I do. My! there is the breakfast bell, and we are only beginning to get dressed. You fasten my buttons, and I will fasten yours, Dimple, so we will get dressed in a hurry."
Their fingers flew, and they rushed down to breakfast two steps at a time.
"It was so dark this morning that we went to sleep again after you called us, mamma," explained Dimple.
"I will excuse you this time, but your breakfast is not as warm as it would have been earlier," said Mrs. Dallas, "and papa had to go away without his morning kiss."
"I am sorry," said Dimple. "Cold eggs aren't very good," she went on, pushing away her plate. "What can we do to-day, mamma?"
"What should you like to do?"
"I don't know," returned Dimple. "My feelings hurt me rainy days, and I don't know what I want."
Mrs. Dallas smiled, as she replied, "You might make paper dolls, they are good rainy day people; that would be one thing. Then you can paint."
"I haven't but one brush, and I have used up all the books and papers you gave me to paint in."
"I can find some more, perhaps, and you and Florence can take turn about with the paint brush."
Dimple looked as if that would not suit very well, and Florence seeing her look, felt a little hurt.
Paper dolls did not amuse them very long; and when Dimple was ready to color the pictures Mrs. Dallas had found for them, Florence declined absolutely to paint at all. So they both sat with their elbows on the window-sill, decidedly out of humor.
"Florence," said Dimple, presently, "I have an idea. Do you see that hogshead down there? It is running over."
"I see it," said Florence. "What of it; it isn't anything very wonderful."
"Well, you needn't be so disagreeable," said Dimple. "What I was going to say, is this; let's make paper boats, and put paper dolls in them. We can pretend the hogshead is Niagara Falls, and the water that runs down the gutter can be Niagara river."
"We will get sopping wet."
"Oh no, we won't; it isn't raining so awfully hard. I will put on my rubber waterproof, and you can put on mamma's. We can slip around there without any one seeing us, for mamma is busy on the other side of the house. Don't you think it would be fun?"
"Ye-es," said Florence, doubtfully.
"Let's hurry and make the boats then. Which paper dolls shall we take? The ugliest, I think, because they will all be drowned anyhow; and don't let's take any pretty frocks, because we can make dolls to fit the frocks when these are drowned."
With paper boats, dolls and waterproofs they stole softly down the front stairs, and shutting the door after them very gently, ran around the house to the hogshead. The roses were heavy with rain, and the honeysuckle shook big drops on them, as they ran by.
The boats went topsy-turvy over the falls, upsetting the dolls, who went careering down the stream, to the great delight of the children.
They played till the last boat load was lost beyond all hope, and then, with wet feet and streaming sleeves, they crept back to the house.
"Now, what shall we do? It was lots of fun, Dimple," said Florence, "but I know your mother will scold, when she sees how wet our feet are, and your foot just well too, and see my sleeves. If we change our clothes she will wonder and then--What shall we do?"
"I don't think it was a bit of harm," said Dimple, determined to brave it out, "but it won't do to keep these wet frocks on. I know. We will go up into the attic, take them off, and hang them up to dry; then we can dress up in other things. There are trunks and boxes full of clothes up there, and we can play something."
"So we can," exclaimed Florence. "That is a perfectly lovely plan. Do you think our clothes will dry before supper?"
"Of course," said Dimple; "anyhow it will be funny to put on trains and things. Come on."
They raced up to the garret, and were soon diving into the boxes and trunks of winter clothing that Mrs. Dallas had packed away.
"Here," said Dimple, on her knees before a trunk, "take this skirt of mamma's," and she dragged out a cashmere skirt. "Florence, see what is in those band-boxes, and get us each a bonnet, while I hunt for a shawl or coat, or something."
After much tumbling up of clothing, she found what