you were out, she produced a small box that held a common little white moth, and told me Bert said that I wanted all those I could get, so she had brought me that one. Well, laddie, what now?” she added, as Fred came into Mrs. Carter’s room, where they were sitting.
“There’s a boy down-stairs,” he replied, “that wants to see you. I don’t know who he is. He saw me on the piazza, and went round there to me.”
“I wonder who he is,” said Bess, as she laid down her work and went out of the room.
She soon came up again, looking both amused and disgusted.
“Another!” she exclaimed, as she took up her sewing.
“What is it now?” asked her mother, laughing.
“It was that little red-haired Irish boy that lives in behind the church. I don’t know what his name is, but alas! he knows me. He came to bring me some twigs, apple, I should think, and on each one was a horrid great worm”—and Bess shivered at the recollection—“covered with red and yellow bristles. I told
