“CHEER—UP!” sang a sweet little voice.
seldom
sang
Mary Frances looked at the canary; but Dick was very busily preening his feathers, and Dick seldom sang.
“Cheer up!” gurgled again the sweet bird voice.
Mary Frances was certain this time that it was not Dick.
Maybe it was a bird outside!
She looked out of the sewing-room window. No, not a single feather was in sight. All the birds were doubtless in their little nests, or hiding close in the barn to keep themselves warm in such a rain.
“Dick!” said Mary Frances, “Dick, did you speak?”
Dick only ducked his head again for a seed, and snapped off the shell with his strong little bill.
“Peep! Peep! Peep!” sang a bird’s voice, as though inviting Mary Frances to a game.
“I’ll play ‘Hide and Seek,’” thought the little girl.
“Where are you, Birdie?” she asked aloud; and, throwing Angie on the rocking chair, began to search.
Another soft little “Peep!” drew her near her grandmother’s work-basket.
“Why!” she cried, “I could easily believe the voice comes from Grandma’s basket!”
“Peep! Peep! Peep! Peep!” the bird voice answered excitedly, as Mary Frances leaned over.
“Why! Why! Why!” she exclaimed. “If it isn’t—if it isn’t Grandma’s Sewing Bird! You dear little thing! Can you talk, too?” lifting her out. “I never thought of you!”
Peep!
Peep!
answered Sewing Bird.
Mary Frances carried her over to the sewing table and fastened her carefully to the edge, just as she had seen her grandmother do.
The other Thimble People kept perfectly still, wondering what would happen next.
“Do you know—you remind me of the Kitchen Folks, Birdie,” said the little girl.
Thimble
People!”
sang the little bird.
“The Thimble People!” exclaimed Mary Frances; “why, who are they? Are there many Thimble People? And what relation are they to the Kitchen People? Will you tell me all about them? And will they be my little friends?”
“Oh, I’m so glad! My, I wouldn’t have missed knowing them for anything. Why, I feel as though I’ve known you for—for—ages!”
maybe
a
mouse’
“Oh,” said Mary Frances, “wouldn’t that have been dreadful! I was so lonely and dreary that I almost wanted to go home instead of staying here at Grandma’s.”
asked Sewing Bird.
“No,” said Mary Frances, “Katie’s in the kitchen,—but she’s very busy, and won’t bother with me, and my Grandma is out this afternoon, calling on some old ladies.”
is a
first-class
scout”
“Well, you see, Sewing Bird,” began Mary Frances gratefully, “Mother is never very strong, and Father had to go to California on business; and he thought wouldn’t it be nice to take Mother with him. So I’m here at my dear Grandma’s for the long summer vacation; and brother Billy is camping with the Boy Scouts; Billy is a first-class scout, you know.”
“Yes,” said Sewing Bird, pretending to look wise, “they have them in Thimble Land.”
“Have what?” asked Mary Frances.
“Why, Boy Scouts, of course—in Thimble Land!”
“Thimble Land!” said Mary Frances; “my, that must be where the Thimble People come from! Where is it?”
Sew!
Sew!”
“So! So! So!?”asked Mary Frances, looking puzzled, “What’s so?”
“Sew! Sew! Sew!” sang Sewing Bird, looking sharply at her with bright little eyes.
“Sew! Sew! Sew! Sew! Sew! Sew! Sew!”
“Sew!”
“Sew! Sew!” she fairly shrieked.
“Yes,” said Mary Frances wondering at her excitement, “of course it’s so.”
sang Sewing Bird.
“Oh, ho,” laughed Mary Frances. “You mean sew! How lovely! If I only knew how to really, truly sew! I do, just a little.”
a dolly,
head
to toe.”
“Can you, really? Really and truly?” cried Mary Frances. “How perfectly dear! Oh, please do, please begin! Angie, poor child, needs so many clothes. When she went to the Tea Party, she spilled cocoa all over herself, and it spoiled all her lovely, lovely dress. It has always grieved me since. She’s so tattered and forlorn. Will you teach me how to sew?”
“Oh, yes, we’ll have the sewing-room for a play-room, Sewing Bird; and you give me lessons! Must they be secret—like the Kitchen People’s lessons? And can you teach me? Oh, how happy I am! I wonder if I can surprise my dear mother. Can I learn to sew for my dolly this vacation?”
pinafore”
will you?”
“I will,” laughed Mary Frances, “but each what?”
“What’s ‘patience’?” asked the little girl.
“Why, ‘patience’? Patience is Mary Frances’ middle name—Mary P. Frances,—see?”
“My, isn’t that a nice name! Mary Patience Frances. And what’s ‘reward’?” laughed the little girl.
“‘Reward’? Reward,” said Sewing Bird, “is Angie all dressed up in the things we’ll make.”
“Oh, I’d love to begin at once—can’t we?”
Sewing Bird gaily nodded her bright, shiny little head.
“Goody! Goody! Won’t Mother be surprised?” said Mary Frances. “I’ll run and get my little work-basket that Grandma gave me.”
the things we’ll make