"Landy! You don't mean I kin KEEP that, Missy?" exclaimed Estralla, her
face radiant at the very thought.

"Yes, quick. Somebody may come. Slip off your dress."

In a moment the old blue frock lay in a little heap on the floor, and
Sylvia had slipped the pink dress over Estralla's head, and was
fastening it. The little darky chuckled and laughed now as if she had
not a trouble in the world.

"Listen, Estralla! Here, pick up every bit of the pitcher and put the
pieces on the chair. Nobody shall know that you broke it. And now you
take this wet towel and your dress and spread them somewhere outdoors to
dry. You can tell your mammy I gave you the dress. Now, run quick. My
mother may come."

Estralla stood quite still looking at Sylvia. She had stopped laughing.

"Will you' mammy scold you 'bout dat pitcher?" she asked.

"I don't know. Anyway, nobody shall know that you broke it. You won't be
whipped. Run along," urged Sylvia.

But Estralla did not move. "I don't keer if I is whipped," she
announced. "I guess, mebbe, my mammy won't whip hard."

"Sylvia, Sylvia," sounded her mother's voice, and both the little girls
looked at each other with startled eyes.