"I often
think of that."
Her father poked her tentatively under the shoulder blades with a
blunt forefinger, making her squirm.
"I don't feel the wings sprouting yet, Nancy," he said, in his
dry way.
"I hope not, yet!" exclaimed the girl. "I'd have to have a new
winter coat if you did, and I know we can't afford that just
now."
"You never said a truer word, Nan," replied Mr. Sherwood, his
voice dropping to a less cheerful level, as he went away to
change his coat and light the hanging lamp in the dining room
where the supper table was already set.
Mother and daughter looked at each other rather ruefully.
"Oh, dear me!" whispered Nan. "I never do open my mouth but I
put my foot in it!"
"Goodness!" returned her mother, much amused. "That is an
acrobatic feat that I never believed you capable of, honey."
"We-ell! I reminded Papa Sherwood of our hard luck instead of
being bright and cheerful like you."
"We will give him a nice supper, honey, and make him forget his
troubles. Time enough to call to order the ways and means
committee afterward." Her husband came back into the kitchen as
Nan finished arranging the hair. "Come, Papa Sherwood!" cried
the little lady. "Hot biscuit; the last of the honey; sweet
pickles; sliced cold ham; and a beautiful big plum cake that our
Nan made this morning before school time, her own self.
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