"I like Grace Clifford ten times as well, for she's a great deal more lady-like." "Well, I suppose I can go home," said Florence, with a rising color; "you're such a perfect lady that I can't get along with you." "O, dear," thought poor Susy, "what does ail my tongue?
Here this very morning I said in my prayer, that I meant to be good and patient." Florence began to put on her cloak.
"Cousin Flossy," said Susy, in a hesitating voice, "I wish you wouldn't go.

I didn't mean to tell that I liked Gracie best; but it's the real honest truth, and if I should take it back, 'twould be a lie." This was not making matters much better.

Florence put on her hood, and tied it with a twitch.
"But I like _you_ ever so much, Flossy; now, you know I do.

You're hateful sometimes; but so am I; and I can't tell which is the hatefulest." Here Flossy, who was as fickle as the wind, laughed merrily, took off her hood and cloak, and danced about the room in high spirits.
"Yes," said she, "I'll stay just on purpose to plague you!" But good humor had been restored on both sides, and the little girls were soon talking together, as freely as if nothing had happened.
"Just come out in the kitchen," said Susy, "and you shall see me wash my bird." "Why, I thought birds washed themselves," replied Florence, following her cousin with some surprise.
"They do, but Dandy won't; it's all in the world I have against Dandy; he isn't a cold-water bird." Grandma Read stood by the kitchen table, clear-starching one of her caps--a piece of work which she always performed with her own hands.
She moved one side to make room for Susy's bird-cage, but said she did not approve of washing canaries; she thought it must be a dangerous experiment.
"If he needed a bath, he would take it himself, Susan.

Little birds know what is best for them by instinct, thee may depend upon it." "But my birdie gay ought to be clean," persisted Susy, who was often very positive.