ready to turn and run in case the old woman rushed out upon her with a
broomstick. One day she begged a large cabbage of Alexander, and rolled
it in at the door of the house. The old woman seemed to like it, and
after this Katy always stopped to speak when she went by. She even got
so far as to sit on the step and watch the old woman at work. There was
a sort of perilous pleasure in doing this. It was like sitting at the
entrance of a lion's cage, uncertain at what moment his Majesty might
take it into his head to give a spring and eat you up.

After this, Katy took a fancy to a couple of twin sisters, daughters of
a German jeweller. They were quite grown-up, and always wore dresses
exactly alike. Hardly any one could tell them apart. They spoke very
little English, and as Katy didn't know a word of German, their
intercourse was confined to smiles, and to the giving of bunches of
flowers, which Katy used to tie up and present to them whenever they
passed the gate. She was too shy to do more than just put the flowers in
their hands and run away; but the twins were evidently pleased, for one
day, when Clover happened to be looking out of the window, she saw them
open the gate, fasten a little parcel to a bush, and walk rapidly off.
Of course she called Katy at once, and the two children flew out to see
what the parcel was. It held a bonnet--a beautiful doll's bonnet of blue
silk, trimmed with artificial flowers; upon it was pinned a slip of
paper with these words, in an odd foreign hand:

"To the nice little girl who was so kindly to give us some flowers."

You can judge whether Katy and Clover were pleased or not.

This was when Katy was six years old. I can't begin to tell you how many
different friends she had set up since then. There was an ash-man, and a