ot have nice things like her.
She had a coral necklace, and a blue silk bonnet, and a white dress,
with flowers worked all over it with a needle. Did _my_ best dress
have flowers worked over it with a needle? I should think not. And I
hadn't a speck of a necklace, nor any bonnet but just straw. I did not
know that Squire Allen was one of the wealthiest men in the state, and
could afford beautiful things for his little daughter, while my father
was poor, or at least not rich, and my mother had to puzzle her brains
a good deal to contrive to keep her little romping, heedless,
try-patience of a daughter looking respectable.

Once, when I was about six years old, I did a very naughty thing. Why,
Fly, what makes your eyes shine so? Can it be you like to hear naughty
stories? Queer, isn't it? Ah, but this story makes me ashamed, even
now that I am a grown-up woman. Wait a minute; I must go back a
little; it was the parasol that began it.

When Fel and I were going home from school one night, we stopped to
take some of our make-believe slides. Not far from our house, near the
river-bank, were two sloping mounds, between which a brook had once
run. These little mounds were soft and green, and dotted with white
innocence flowers; and what fun it was to start at the top of one of
them, and roll over and over, down into the valley. Somehow, Fel,
being a lady-child, never stained her cape bonnet, while mine was all
streaks; and she never tore her skirts off the waist; but what if I
did tear mine? They always grew together again, I never stopped to
think how.

This time, as we were having a jolly roll, Madam Allen rode along in
the carryall, with Tempy Ann driving.

"Stop, and let us see what those children are doing," said she; and
Tempy Ann stopped.

Fel and I danced upon our feet, and started to run to the carryall,
but of course I tumbled down before I got there. While I was picking
my foot out of the hole in my frock, I heard Fel exclaim, joyfully,
"O, mamma, is it for me? What a beauty, beauty, beauty!"

"Yes, dear, I bought it for you, but if you are going to be a gypsy
child, I suppose you won't want it."

I looked and saw the cunningest little sunshade, with its head
tipped on one side, like a great blue morning glory. Never again shall
I behold anything so beautiful. Queen Victoria's crown and Empress
Eugenie's diamonds wouldn't compare with it for a moment. They say we
feel most keenly those joys we never quite g