Copy-Cat Other Stories | Page 9

"I respect Diantha," said Grandmother Wheeler. "You know that. She is
one woman in a thousand, but I do hate to have that poor child go to
school to-day with so many to look at her, and she dressed so unlike all
the other little girls."
"Diantha has got so much sense, it makes her blind and deaf," declared
Grandmother Stark. "I call it a shame, if she is my daughter."
"Then you don't venture --"
Grandmother Stark reddened. She did not like to own to awe of her
daughter. "I VENTURE, if that is all," said she, tartly. "You don't
suppose I am afraid of Diantha? -- but she would not let Amelia wear
one of the dresses, anyway, and I don't want the child made any
unhappier than she is."
"Well, I will admit," replied Grandmother Wheel- er, "if poor Amelia
knew she had these beautiful dresses and could not wear them she
might feel worse about wearing that homely gingham."
"Gingham!" fairly snorted Grandmother Stark. "I cannot see why
Diantha thinks so much of ging- ham. It shrinks, anyway."
Poor little Amelia did undoubtedly suffer on that last day, when she sat
among the others gaily clad, and looked down at her own common little

skirts. She was very glad, however, that she had not been chosen to do
any of the special things which would have necessitated her appearance
upon the little flower-decorated platform. She did not know of the
conversation between Madame and her two as- sistants.
"I would have Amelia recite a little verse or two," said Madame, "but
how can I?" Madame adored dress, and had a lovely new one of sheer
dull-blue stuff, with touches of silver, for the last day.
"Yes," agreed Miss Parmalee, "that poor child is sensitive, and for her
to stand on the platform in one of those plain ginghams would be too
cruel."
"Then, too," said Miss Acton, "she would re- cite her verses exactly
like Lily Jennings. She can make her voice exactly like Lily's now.
Then every- body would laugh, and Amelia would not know why. She
would think they were laughing at her dress, and that would be
dreadful."
If Amelia's mother could have heard that conver- sation everything
would have been different, al- though it is puzzling to decide in what
way.
It was the last of the summer vacation in early September, just before
school began, that a climax came to Amelia's idolatry and imitation of
Lily. The Jenningses had not gone away that sum- mer, so the two little
girls had been thrown together a good deal. Mrs. Diantha never went
away during a summer. She considered it her duty to remain at home,
and she was quite pitiless to herself when it came to a matter of duty.
However, as a result she was quite ill during the last of August and the
first of September. The sea- son had been unusually hot, and Mrs.
Diantha had not spared herself from her duty on account of the heat.
She would have scorned herself if she had done so. But she could not,
strong-minded as she was, avert something like a heat prostration after
a long walk under a burning sun, nor weeks of confinement and
idleness in her room afterward.
When September came, and a night or two of com- parative coolness,
she felt stronger; still she was compelled by most unusual weakness to
refrain from her energetic trot in her duty-path; and then it was that
something happened.
One afternoon Lily fluttered over to Amelia's, and Amelia, ever on the
watch, spied her.

"May I go out and see Lily?" she asked Grand- mother Stark.
"Yes, but don't talk under the windows; your mother is asleep."
Amelia ran out.
"I declare," said Grandmother Stark to Grand- mother Wheeler, "I was
half a mind to tell that child to wait a minute and slip on one of those
pretty dresses. I hate to have her go on the street in that old gingham,
with that Jennings girl dressed up like a wax doll."
"I know it."
"And now poor Diantha is so weak -- and asleep -- it would not have
annoyed her."
"I know it."
Grandmother Stark looked at Grandmother Wheeler. Of the two she
possessed a greater share of original sin compared with the size of her
soul. Moreover, she felt herself at liberty to circumvent her own
daughter. Whispering, she unfolded a dar- ing scheme to the other
grandmother, who stared at her aghast a second out of her lovely blue
eyes, then laughed softly.
"Very well," said she, "if you dare."
"I rather think I dare!" said Grandmother Stark. "Isn't Diantha Wheeler
my own daughter?" Grand- mother Stark had grown much bolder since
Mrs. Diantha had been ill.