by time; but, quite
to her surprise, the child, generally so passive and tractable, opposed
a most unexpected and desperate resistance to this operation. She began
to cry and to sob and shake her curly head, throwing her tiny hands out
in a wild species of freakish opposition, which had, notwithstanding, a
quaint and singular grace about it, while she stated her objections in
all the little English at her command.

"Mara don't want--Mara want pitty boo des--and _pitty_ shoes."

"Why, was ever anything like it?" said Mrs. Kittridge to Miss Roxy, as
they both were drawn to the door by the outcry; "here's this child won't
have decent every-day clothes put on her,--she must be kept dressed up
like a princess. Now, that ar's French calico!" said Mrs. Kittridge,
holding up the controverted blue dress, "and that ar never cost a cent
under five-and-sixpence a yard; it takes a yard and a half to make it,
and it must have been a good day's work to make it up; call that
three-and-sixpence more, and with them pearl buttons and thread and all,
that ar dress never cost less than a dollar and seventy-five, and here
she's goin' to run out every day in it!"

"Well, well!" said Miss Roxy, who had taken the sobbing fair one in her
lap, "you know, Mis' Kittridge, this 'ere's a kind o' pet lamb, an
old-folks' darling, and things be with her as they be, and we can't make
her over, and she's such a nervous little thing we mustn't cross her."
Saying which, she proceeded to dress the child in her own clothes.

"If you had a good large checked apron, I wouldn't mind putting that on
her!" added Miss Roxy, after she had arrayed the child.

"Here's one," said Mrs. Kittridge; "that may save her clothes some."

Miss Roxy began to put on the wholesome garment; but, rather to her
mortification, the little fairy began to weep again in a most
heart-broken manner.

"Don't want che't apon."

"Why don't Mara want nice checked apron?" said Miss Roxy, in that extra
cheerful tone by which children are to be made to believe they have
mistaken their own mind.

"Don't want it!" with a decided wave of the little hand; "I's too pitty
to wear che't apon."

"Well! well!" said Mrs. Kittridge, rolling up her eyes, "did I ever! no,
I never did. If there ain't depraved natur' a-comin' out early. Well, if
she says she's pretty now, what'll it be when she's fifteen?"

"She'll learn to tell a lie about it by that time," said Miss Roxy, "and
say she thinks she'