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Updated: May 3, 2025
“Well, I guess I’m your friend,” Rosie said, firing up; “I told that little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you, I’d slap her good and hard. Only—only—it seems strange that a little girl who’s just like the rest of us should have story-book things happening to her all the time.
“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” Rosie asked with a sideways look. “Yes, but I don’t like her.” “Nobody likes her,” Rosie said. “She’s too much of a smarty-cat. She loves to get people over there and then show off before them. And then she puts on so many airs. I won’t have anything to do with her.”
Seizing each other by the waist, the two little girls danced about the room. “Oh, I’m going to be so good to Laura when she gets well,” Maida said. “So am I,” Rosie declared with equal fervor. “The last thing I ever said to her was that she was ‘a hateful little smarty-cat.’” Five minutes before one, the next day, all the children in Primrose Court gathered on the lawn in front of Laura’s window.
As a matter of fact, Hester presented a funny sight. She was a plain child, and her shock of red hair was straight and untractable. Her scowling face was flushed with anger, and the gold paper crown was pushed down over one ear in ridiculous fashion. Marjorie couldn't help laughing, which, naturally, only irritated Hester the more. "Yes, giggle!" she cried; "old Smarty-Cat! old Proudy!"
“Horrid little smarty-cat!” was Rosie’s comment and she scowled until her face looked like a thunder-cloud. “I shall never speak to her again,” Maida declared fervently. “But what shall I do about it, Rosie?—it may be true what she said.” “Now don’t you get discouraged, Maida,” Rosie said. “Because I can tell you just how to get or make those things Laura spoke of.” “Oh, can you, Rosie.
You could see that. Mrs. Berry told him, and he let us go ahead, just to have a joke on us. Mr. Brown came mostly to see Mr. Forbes, not us." "You're right, you little smarty-cat," and Alicia smiled at the astute Dotty. "And I do believe Uncle Jeff meant to give us a lesson about writing to actors. I thought it was queer he took it so easily, and Mrs. Berry too. They played right into our hands.
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