And then we were friends from that moment, for I knew that she told Kitty Sage,-- And she wasn't a girl that would flatter--"that she thought I was tall for my age." And I gave her four apples that evening, and took her to ride on my sled, And-- "What am I telling you this for?" Why, Papa, my neighbor is DEAD! You don't hear one half I am saying,--I really do think it's too bad! Why, you might have seen crape on her door-knob, and noticed to-day I've been sad. And they've got her a coffin of rosewood, and they say they have dressed her in white, And I've never once looked through the fence, Pa, since she died--at eleven last night. And Ma says it's decent and proper, as I was her neighbor and friend, That I should go there to the funeral, and she thinks that YOU ought to attend; But I am so clumsy and awkward, I know I shall be in the way, And suppose they should speak to me, Papa, I wouldn't know just what to say. So I think I will get up quite early,--I know I sleep late, but I know I'll be sure to wake up if our Bridget pulls the string that I'll tie to my toe; And I'll crawl through the fence, and I'll gather the "Johnny-jump-ups" as they grew Round her feet the first day that I saw her, and, Papa, I'll give them to you. For you're a big man, and, you know, Pa, can come and go just where you choose, And you'll take the flowers in to her, and surely they'll never refuse; But, Papa, don't SAY they're from Johnny; THEY won't understand, don't you see? But just lay them down on her bosom, and, Papa, SHE'LL know they're from Me. MISS EDITH'S MODEST REQUEST My Papa knows you, and he says you're a man who makes reading for books; But I never read nothing you wrote, nor did Papa,--I know by his looks. So I guess you're like me when I talk, and I talk, and I talk all the day, And they only say, "Do stop that child!" or, "Nurse, take Miss Edith away." But Papa said if I was good I could ask you--alone by myself-- If you wouldn't write me a book like that little one up on the shelf. I don't mean the pictures, of course, for to make THEM you've got to be smart But the reading that runs all around them, you know,--just the easiest part. You needn't mind what it's about, for no one will see it but me, And Jane,--that's my nurse,--and John,--he's the coachman,--just only us three. You're to write of a bad little girl, that was wicked and bold and all that; And then you're to write, if you please, something good--very good-- of a cat!