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When it comes, let the space-writers and all the horde of small spirits retire for a little while, or go on sounding the praises of this or that "society novel" by Mrs. Van Kortland Van Kordtland, or other of that ilk. And while there may be lay-figures in the book, as has been charged, the people around whom the interest centers are so terribly real that they cannot stay in the book.
Daisy was growing to be almost as lovely as Stevie had been; and though she did not suggest Daisy Jasper, the name always recalled her dear friend. And Stevie was quite a big boy. He was getting some rough ways, too, and wanted to drive Hanny about for a horse, just as he did papa. Great-grandmother Van Kortland had knit him some beautiful horse-lines. And Annie was such a sweet little thing!
But the little girl in New York was almost a year older, and she had a large wax doll with "truly" clothes that could be taken off and washed. If she went to the city she might have one. She piled up her patchwork with a sense of exultation. She was extremely neat. There was a tiny, hair-covered trunk grandmother Van Kortland had given her full of pretty chintz and calico pieces.
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