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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Ugh!" said the Indian, pointing to Dimple's feet. "My shoes and stockings? Well, I will give them to you," and she quickly took them off. The Indian gravely tied them around his neck, and taking Dimple by the hand he led her forth in triumph.
I will tell your father about it, myself, or, better still, I will walk home with you, and you can tell your story to your mother, and let me beg pardon for you. How will that do?" Dimple's eyes spoke her thanks, and she turned to Florence who answered with a satisfied smile. And so by Mr. Atkinson's kind request the culprits were forgiven, and were promised that they should go again since Mr.
I will come for you, if you like, at half-past four." "Did mamma say we might go?" "Yes, so it is all settled." "Now," said Florence, "we must make the dolls new frocks. Do tell us, Rock, what they ought to wear." Rock turned over the bits of stuff in Dimple's box. "White, I think," said he; "that dotted stuff is pretty." "Oh, yes," said Dimple, "and I have plenty of that.
But here a disaster followed, for the captive, thinking it her duty to struggle, knocked the hatchet out of the Indian's hand, and it fell with its edge on Dimple's little white foot, making a bad gash. "Oh, you've killed me, sure enough," she cried. "Oh, you wicked, wicked thing!" Poor Bubbles cried quite as hard as she, and begged not to be sent to the orphan asylum.
It was fastened to a stake, so it could only career around a little, and Dimple's friend Callie Spear assured the little girls that it was perfectly secure, and so they gave themselves up to their enjoyment.
I reckon I know what I'm talking about better than you do." This puzzled Bubbles, but it also silenced her, although she looked furtively around to see where Dimple's hidden acquaintance might be; that somebody else to whom she spoke so defiantly. "Hit's dat no 'count little niggah Jim, I'll be bound," she muttered, under her breath.
Dallas said, as Dimple came bounding into the room to receive her nine kisses. "Oh, mamma, why? I always have them the first thing. Do tell me where they are. Downstairs or up here?" "Downstairs, in one sense, but they are not in the house at all." Dimple's eyes opened wide. "Not in the house? Florence, just listen. There is a great secret. Oh, dear, how can I wait?"
All that evening Dimple sat with one arm around Florence; and, although Rock was so glad to see his mother, he said that he would have Dimple so short a time that he must sit by her, and the three children sat on the steps, Rock holding Dimple's hand and trying his best to cheer her up. But a more doleful face than appeared at the breakfast table could not be found.
I don't want to think of it." Here Dimple's mamma called her, and she went upstairs. "Wait till I come back, Rock," she said, as she went out, "I want to talk some more." "What do you want with me, mamma?" she asked as she entered her mamma's room. "I want to try on your bridesmaid frock." "Oh, mamma! Is that it?" she exclaimed, as her mamma lifted a soft white mull from the bed.
Bubbles looked as sympathetic as the occasion required, and trotted along by Dimple's side, holding the umbrella over her, and trying to suggest all manner of comforting things. "Hit'll all be ovah befo' yuh is twict married, Miss Dimple, and hit mought be wuss. S'posin' Miss Flo'ence was los' sho 'nough, den yuh might tek on.
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