We's makin'
peserves, we is; 'cause they is good to eat, they is. And you mus' tell
me a story, you mus', 'cause I'm a-helpin' Aunt Cheerie, I am."
For you must know that the Small Chick is not very polite, and doesn't
say "please," when she can help it.
"Lend us a hand at the apples, too," said Aunt Cheerie.
"No, I can't tell stories and pare apples, too."
"Does you need your fingers to tell stories wid, like the dumbers that we
heard talk without saying anything?"
Chicken Small had been to an exhibition of Professor Gillett's deaf and
dumb pupils.
"Well, no," I said; "but you see, Chicken, I never could make my tongue
and my fingers go at the same time."
"I should think you had never done much with your fingers, then," said
Aunt Cheerie; "for I never knew your tongue to be still, except when you
were asleep."
I felt a little anxious to change the subject, and so began the story at
once.
"Little Sukey Gray----"
"What a funny name!" cried the Fairy.
Yes, and a funny girl was Sukey Gray. She had yellow hair that was tied
up in an old-fashioned knot, behind, though she was only eleven years
old; for you must know that Sukey lived in a part of the country where
chignons and top-knots of the latest style were unknown.
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