Didn't ask me to her party, Fanny Harlow didn't." Dotty heaved a deep sigh, took her black baby out of its cradle, and shook it with all her might.
"What you lookin' to me for, Phib?
I wasn't a 'peakin' to you.

I'm goin' to cover you all up, Phib, so you won't hear me think." Then Dotty looked out of the window again.

"What a good little girl I am," thought she, "not to be a cryin'! Prudy'd cry! There goes the blacksmif's shop." Dotty meant the blacksmith.

"His mother lets him go everywhere.

Everybody's mother lets 'em go everywhere." A prettily dressed little girl passed the window.
"How do you do, little girl ?" whispered Dotty, in a voice so low that even the cat did not hear.