Then my sun-bonnet--"
"Looks as if you'd hung it up in your pocket," suggested Tommy.
"Well, I didn't; I only rolled it up for a rag-baby when we played keep
house at recess. I s'pose it's bad for bonnets, but it made the
beautifulest kind of a baby," said Nannie, a little ray of enthusiasm
gleaming through her despondency. "But Aunt S'mantha doesn't 'preciate
such things," she added, mournfully.
"No," answered Tommy, sympathetically. "She'll scold, may be?"
"P'r'aps so. May be she'll send me to bed without any supper."
"Whew! That a'nt any fun, I tell you!" declared Tommy. "Why, a fellow
just tumbles and tumbles, and gets hungrier and hungrier, and wonders
what the folks have got for supper, and looks at the stars, and tries
to say 'Hickory-dickory-dock' backward, and wishes it was morning. It
just feels awful!"
"I didn't ever try it, and I don't s'pose I could stand it," said
Nannie, shaking dejectedly the curly head in the flopping sun-bonnet.
"I've a good mind not to go home at all, but just run away off
somewhere, and be a foundling. Foundlings have pretty good times,
'cause I've read about 'em in books.
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