"
That wonderful green bag proved a sort of fairy find. There were
remnants of mull, Swiss, jaconet and other fabrics--white, plain and
barred. Grandmamma cut us a pattern. At four the seven girls were
assembled in her room. Jeanie on a hassock at her feet, the remainder
grouped as they chose.
How our fingers flew! It was just a quarter to six when every cap was
finished, and each girl had decided upon her special color. We hadn't
the ribbon to make our bows, and were obliged to wait till somebody
should go to the city to procure it; but each girl knew her favorite
color, and that was a comfort. Linda Curtis chose blue, and I would wear
rose-tints (my parents did not insist on my wearing Quaker gray, and I
dressed like "the world's people"), Veva chose old gold, and each of the
others had a preference.
"You will look like a field of daisies and clover, dearies," said
grandmamma.
"There!" cried Jeanie. "Why not have a four-leaved clover as our badge?
There isn't anything prettier."
The four-leaved clover carried the day, though one or two did speak for
the daisy, the maiden-hair fern and the pussy willow. All this was
before the subject of the national flower had been agitated.
"Where are my pupils?" Miss Muffet appeared promptly at the hour, and
wore a most business-like air as she began her instructions. "Compressed
yeast has found its way to Bloomdale, my dears," she said, "so that I
shall not have to begin by telling you how to make yeast.
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