She clucked angrily, but never once attempted to snap at the dimpled fingers that squeezed her tight.

Suddenly, as if her patience was completely exhausted, she uttered a disdainful "Oh, pshaw!" and flew up into an old cedar-tree.
"Mothah! Polly won't play with me any moah," shrieked the child, flying into a rage.

She stamped and scowled and grew red in the face.

Then she began beating the trunk of the tree with the old broom she had been carrying.
"Did you ever see anything so much like the old Colonel ?" said Mrs.
Tyler, in astonishment.

"I wonder if she acted that way this morning." "I don't doubt it at all," answered Mrs.Sherman.