Well,
there's another door there opening on the piazza, don't you remember--a
door with panes of glass in it like a window?"
Fidelia remembered.
"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.
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