"Well, now, Fidelia, do you suppose you can go down to the store and buy
some raisins for mother to put in sister Cynthy's weddin'-cake, all
yourself?"

"An' be a real smart little girl," put in Aunt Maria.

Fidelia gave one ecstatic roll of her black eyes at them, then she broke
into a shout, "Lemme go! lemme go!" She oscillated on her small stubbed
toes like a bird preparing to fly, and she tugged energetically at her
mother's apron.

"I'll give you a penny, an' you can buy you a nice stick of
red-and-white twisted candy," added her mother.

Fidelia actually made a little dash for the door then, but her mother
caught her. "Stop!" she said, in an admonitory voice which was quieting
to Fidelia, and made her realize that the red-and-white candy was still
in the future. "Now you just wait a minute, an' not be in such a pucker.
You ain't goin' this way, with your apron just as dirty as poison, and
your hair all in a snarl. You've got to have on your clean apron, and
have your hair brushed and your face washed."

So Fidelia climbed obediently into her high chair, and sat with her eyes
screwed up and her fists clinched, while her mother polished her face
faithfully with a wet, soapy end of a towel, and combed the snarls out
of her hair. When it was all done, her cheeks being very red and shiny,
and her hair very damp and smooth, when she was arrayed in her clean
starched white tier, and had her Shaker tied on with an emphatic square
bow, she stood in the door and drank in the parting instructions. Her
eyes were wide and intent, and her mouth drooped soberly at the corners.
The importance of the occasion had begun to impress her. She held a
penny tight in her hand; the raisins were to be charged, it not being
judged advisable to trust Fidelia with so much money.

"I don't believe that little thing can carry three pounds of raisins,"
Mrs. Lennox said to Aunt Maria. She was becoming more and more uneasy
about Fidelia's going.

"Let her take her little wagon an' drag 'em; that'll be just the thing,"
said Aunt Maria, complacently.

So Fidelia started down the road, trundling behind her the little
squeaking cart. It was a warm July day, and it was very dusty. Directly
Fidelia started she forgot her mother's injunctions about stubbing her
toes; she disappeared in a small cloud of dust, for she walked in the
middle of the road, and flirted it up with great delight.

[Illustration: "'WHOSE LITTLE GAL AIR YOU?'"]

In the