ks, all fluted and grooved,
and Winnie could heat these blocks in the oven, and wet her hair, and
lay it between them, and O! how satin-smooth the waves would
be,--hair-pin-crimps and braid-crimps were nothing to this new and
scientific way.

Winnie also made it a matter of pride to display her overskirts. These
were arranged with ever so many tapes on the inside, and would readily
tie up into the most ravishing bunches and puffs--how Lu and Kathie,
wee-est mites of women though they were, did envy Winnie her tapes!
Their mammas didn't know how to loop a dress--witness their little
skirts pinned back into what Kathie called a "wopse."

She also had brought some tiny parlor skates, and, withal, many airs and
graces which her two young-lady aunties had taught her, among others a
funny little new accent on some of her words,--the word "pretty" in
particular. And, last of all, she had been taught to dance!

"And I can show _you_," Winnie said, eagerly, "'cause it goes by
'steps,' and uncle says I take them as pr-i-tty as Cousin Lily."

Now, in Connaut, little girls don't dance--not _nice_ little girls, nor
nice big girls either, for that matter.

The dimpled mouths opened in astonishment. "That is wicked, Winnie
Ten'son, don't you know?"

"O, but 'tisn't," said Winnie. "My aunties dance, and their mamma, my
grandmamma, was at the party once."

"We shall tell our mothers," said Lu. "I'll bet you've come home a
proud, wicked girl, and you want us to be as bad as you are."

[Illustration: "Winnie already had her class before her."]

Now Winnie was only six years old, about the same age as her virtuous
friends, and she didn't look very wicked. She had pink cheeks, and blue
eyes, and dimples. She stood gazing at her accusers, first at one and
then at the other.

"Luie," said Kathie, gravely, "we mustn't call Winnie wicked till we ask
our mothers if she is."

"No, I don't think I would," said Mrs. Tennyson, looking up from her
sewing, her cheek flushing at the sight of tears in her little Winnie's
gentle eyes.

On the way home, they chanced to see their own minister walking along.
Lu stopped short. "Kathie," said she, "I know it's awful wicked now, or
else we never should have met the minister right here. I'm just going to
tell him about Winnie."

She went up to him, Kathie following shyly.

"Mr. Goodhue, Winnie Ten'son is a nawful wicked girl!"

"She _is!_" said Mr. Goodhue, stopping, and looking down into the