"But the ear-rings?" said I. "You will give them to me now, will you
not? I should _so_ much like to have them!"

"And so you shall have them, dear," replied Aunt Henshaw. "It would he
cruel to refuse them after your suffering so much for them. But I never
would have mentioned them had I had any idea of such an unfortunate
result."

Supposing that it would please me, she got them out of the case and laid
them beside me. They were very pretty, to be sure, but oh! how much
suffering those ear-rings caused me! My poor ears were very sore for a
long time, and I would sit for hours leaning my head on a pillow, in
hopes of easing the pain. And yet, when they were at last well, and the
ear-rings really in, I almost forgot what I had suffered in the delight
I experienced at my supposed transformation. They were the admiration of
the kitchen; and even Aunt Henshaw and Cousin Statia allowed that
ear-rings were a great improvement; and I began to think that on my
return home they would even throw Ellen Tracy's curls into the shade.

The summer was passing away--harvest had come and gone; and while the
others were engaged during this busy season, I was to be seen perched on
every load of hay, from which I had of course two or three tumbles, but
always on some pile beneath. The kittens had grown large and awkward,
and consequently lost my favor; while the cat no longer put herself to
the trouble of hiding them, so that I could now have them whenever I
chose--coming like most other privileges when no longer desired. The
evenings were getting chilly, so that a fire was very acceptable; and I
loved to sit by the bright flame before the candles were brought in, and
listen to Aunt Henshaw's stories.