"How that child grows," said Mrs. Larkins, as Annette entered the room.

"Ill weeds grow apace; she has nothing else to do. That girl is going
to give her grandmother a great deal of trouble."

"Oh! I do not think so."

"Well, I do, and I told her grandmother so one day, but she did not
thank me for it."

"No, I suppose not."

"I didn't do it for thanks; I did it just to give her a piece of my mind
about that girl. She is the most mischievous and worrisome child I ever
saw. The partition between our houses is very thin and many a time when
I want to finish my morning sleep or take an afternoon nap, if Mrs.
Harcourt is not at home, Annette will sing and recite at the top of her
voice and run up and down the stairs as if a regiment of soldiers were
after her."

"Annette is quite young, full of life and brimful of mischief, and girls
of that age I have heard likened to persimmons before they are ripe; if
you attempt to eat them they will pucker your mouth, but if you wait
till the first frost touches them they are delicious. Have patience with
the child, act kindly towards her, she may be slow in developing womanly
sense, but I think that Annette has within her the making of a fine
woman."

"Do you know what Annette wants?"