, and wishes it was morning. It
just feels awful!"

"I didn't ever try it, and I don't s'pose I could stand it," said
Nannie, shaking dejectedly the curly head in the flopping sun-bonnet.
"I've a good mind not to go home at all, but just run away off
somewhere, and be a foundling. Foundlings have pretty good times,
'cause I've read about 'em in books. They get adopted by some great
lady in a big house, and grow up rich, and get to be real handsome."

"I don't believe you would," declared Tommy, more honestly than
politely.

Nan meditated a minute, and then said, with a sigh:

"Well, I guess I'll have to go home, then."

"Scoldings don't last very long, anyway," urged Tommy, consolingly.

"But if you sort o' think you oughtn't to have done things, and did
ought to be more careful--and everything--it makes it seem more worse,
you know," remarked Nannie, in a hesitating, half-penitent way. "'Cause
I _do_ like Aunt S'mantha."

"Yes," admitted Tommy, knitting his brow over the complications of the
case, and searching his own experience for a suggestion of relief. "If
you only had something nice to carry home to her--something she wants.
Once I got wet as a rat playing round the pond, but I'd caught two
fish--reg'lar tip-top trout--and I took 'em home to mother; held 'em up
where they'd be seen first thing, you know. And she said, 'What nice
fish!' and didn't scold a wink."

"I couldn't catch anything if I tried a week, and Aunt S'mantha
wouldn't care, anyway. Why, she's a real grown-up woman, and could have
tea-parties and make molasses candy every day if she wanted to! I don't
believe she wants anything, unless it's ban--bananas--whatever that is.
I heard her say she'd like some, this morning."

"Bandanas?" questioned Tommy, with brightening eyes.

"Y-e-s, I guess so," answered Nannie, rather doubtfully.

"Ho! I know what they are as well as anything. Why, they're silk
handkerchiefs--red and yellow, with spots on 'em."

Nannie's hand dived into her small pocket, and re-appeared with two
nickels and a copper.

"Do you guess I could buy one at Carney's store for 'leven cents?
'Cause I haven't got any more."

"I s'pose so. Why, yes; handkerchiefs a'nt much 'count, you know. I
always lose mine--only they a'nt bandanas. I guess women-folks think
more about 'em, though," said Tommy, with the air of one superior to
such trifles.

Nannie was convinced, and started from her seat with a little sigh of
relief.

"