hey might not get lost, one from the other.

This connecting-link frequently gave rise to confusion, for when two
little girls put their arms around each other's necks as they walked to
school, they sometimes got tangled up in the mitten string and had to
duck and turn and bump heads before the right string was again resting
on the right shoulder. But as it was possible to laugh a great deal and
lose one's breath while this was going on, it was rather an advantage
than otherwise, and little girls who were special chums were pretty sure
to manage a tangle every other day at least.

Clarabel Bradley did her tangling and untangling with Josephine Brown,
who lived at the end of Amity Street. They both went to the same school
and were in the same class. They waited for each other in the morning,
and came home together, and shared each other's candy and ginger cookies
whenever there were any, and took firm sides together whenever the
school-yard was the scene of dispute.

But into this intimacy came a pair of gloves, almost wrecking it.

The gloves were sent by Clarabel's aunt, who was young and pretty and
taught school in a large city; and they came done up in white
tissue-paper inside a box with gilt trimming around the edges and a
picture on the center of the cover. Taken out of the paper, they
revealed all their alluring qualities. They were of a beautiful glossy
brown kid with soft woolly linings and real fur around the wrists, and
they fastened with bright gilded clasps.

With them was a note which said:

For Clarabel, with love from her Aunt Bessie. =Not to be kept for
Sundays, but worn every day.=

And the last sentence was underscored.

Clarabel's mother looked doubtful as she read the message. Such gloves
were an extravagance even for best--and mittens were warmer. But when
she encountered Clarabel's shining eyes she smiled and gave in.

So Clarabel took the gloves to her room that night, and slept with them
on the foot-board of her bed, where she could see them the first thing
when she waked; and in the morning she put them on and started for
school.

One hand was held rigidly by her side, but the other was permitted to
spread its fingers widely over the book she carried. Both were well in
view if she looked down just a little. Passers-by might see; all Amity
Street might see; best of all, Josephine might see!

But Josephine, waiting at the corner, beheld and was impressed to the
point of spe