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"Midgets never grow bald and are usually vain in the matter of dress, probably due to the fact that in the past they were attachés of royalty. A midget is usually suave in manners and not easily embarrassed in public.
Now, good-night, just the same as a good-night at home." "Good-night, Father," and Midget hung up the receiver again. By this time Delight had stopped her crying, and Mrs. Spencer had become a little more resigned to the unpleasant state of things.
Such a midget she looked in her long skirt and maid's cap, though she had sworn, when engaged, that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps! And gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildly that all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at her you might have got it. There never was a simpler happier family until the coming of Peter Pan.
"I don't think Eliza put in any baking powder," said Kitty, dubiously. "Oh, she must have!" said Midget. "That's what baking powder is for, to bake with. It's on that shelf, Kitty." Kitty was uncertain about the baking powder, so took Marjorie's advice. "But I don't know how much," she said, as she opened the tin box. "About a tablespoonful to a cup of flour," said Marjorie.
No, indeed, she knew better than that; but though she tried very hard to appear at her ease, her nature was so sensitive to mental atmosphere, that her cakes almost choked her. Rosy Posy was perfectly at ease. The midget sat quietly, and accepted with benign grace the milk and crackers fed to her by one of the maids.
"I'll not be sayin' she's purty, till I see how she doos be behavin'. Is she a good little cat, Miss Midget dear?" "Good! Indeed she is a good kitty. And I wish you'd give her some milk, Eliza, while I run out to see the chickens. Is Carter out there?" But without waiting for an answer, Marjorie was already flying down through the garden, and soon found Carter, the gardener, at his work.
"Not exactly stuck-up, is she, Midget?" said King, who had come in during the recital. "No," owned up Marjorie. "I was mistaken about that; and I think I'd like her a lot, if she wasn't the crying kind. I do hate cry babies." "Ho! You wept oceans when Glad went away." "Yes," retorted Marjorie, unabashed, "but that's very different.
The car passed King and Marjorie, who waved their hands gaily, and watched it rapidly disappear along the road in front of them. "I'm glad we're doing a deed of charity, Midget," said her brother, "for if we weren't I shouldn't relish this long walk very much." "Now, King, don't go and spoil your noble deed by growling about it!
How much is owed on the grazing allotment? And how come that a sheriff's posse can't depose one old man?" "Old Jim and I were jist talkin' about this same thing," said Landy as they paused at the yard gate. "Does Mr. Lough know about it?" exclaimed the astonished midget. "Adine didn't want him to know! Who tipped it off to him?" Landy chuckled as he fingered the gate latch.
"Don't speak of it," said his mother, turning pale at the thought; "and don't ever take the baby on your escapades. She's too little to go through the dangers that you older ones persist in getting into." "Oh, we don't persist," said Marjorie, "the dangers just seem to come to us without our looking for them." "They do seem to, Midget," agreed Uncle Steve.
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