Now she pushed over to the door, and called, "Fidelia! Fidelia!"
Directly the squeak increased to an agonizing degree, the rattle of
small wheels accompanied it, and Fidelia came trudging around the
corner of the house. She was a chubby little girl, and her blue tier
seemed rather tight for her. She had a round, rosy face, and innocent
and honest black eyes. She wore a small Shaker bonnet with a green cape,
and she stubbed her toes into the grass every step she took.
"Don't stub your toes so," said her mother, admonishingly. "You'll wear
your shoes all out."
Fidelia immediately advanced with soft pats like a kitten. When she got
into the kitchen her mother took off her Shaker bonnet and looked at her
critically. "You'll have to have your hair brushed," said she. "Fidelia,
do you remember how you went with mother down to Mis' Rose's three or
four weeks ago?"
Fidelia nodded and winked.
"There was a big pussy cat there, do you remember? and Mis' Rose gave
you a cooky."
Fidelia's affirmative wink seemed to give out sparkles.
"Well, you remember how we went to the _side_ door and knocked--the door
with some roses over the top of it--and Mis' Rose came--the _side_
door?"
Fidelia, intensely attentive, standing before her mother and Aunt Maria,
remembered about the side door.
"Well, you remember how there was a piazza across the front of the
house, don't you? Father hitched the horse to a post there.
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