Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 92 of 203 (45%)
page 92 of 203 (45%)
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with them.
"How do you happen to have such lovely curls?" asked Abby of the fascinating little creature. "Oh, mamma puts every curl into a wee nightcap of its own when I go to bed!" answered the child, with a playful shake of the head. Larry thought this very droll. "Isn't she cunning?" he said. "But what can she mean?" "Your mother puts your hair into a nightcap!" cried Abby. "Those are curl papers, I suppose." "No, nightcaps," insisted the little one. "That's the right name." The children puzzled over it for some time; but finally Aunt Kitty came to the rescue, and explained that she rolled them on bits of muslin or cotton, to give them the soft, pretty appearance which Abby so much admired; because Claire's father liked her to have curls, and the poor child's hair was naturally as straight as a pipe stem. "Come and see our chapel, Claire," said Abby; the word oratory did not yet come trippingly to her tongue. Claire was delighted with the beautiful image, and behaved as decorously as if she were in church. Afterward the children took her to walk. They went into the park, in which there were many handsome flower-pots, several fountains, and a number of fine pieces of marble statuary. Claire seemed to be much impressed with the latter. |
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