Child rearing -- Fiction; Children -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Love stories; Siblings -- Fiction
Miss Tripp laughed musically. "What a quaint little dear it is," she
murmured, kissing the child's pink cheek. "Why shouldn't Aunty Evelyn
let Mr. Hickey hear the story if he wants to, dear?"
"He's too old," said Doris convincingly. "He wouldn't care about
Cinderella losing off her glass slipper."
"Oh-e-e, Doris Brewster!" exclaimed Carroll, swelling with the superior
enlightenment of his three years of seniority. "That's very rude indeed!
Mr. Hickey doesn't look so very old. He's got quite a lot of hair left
on the sides of his head, and----"
"Thanks, my boy," interrupted Mr. Hickey hastily. "But don't entirely
floor me by enumerating all my youthful charms. How about that slipper
of Cinderella's, Miss Tripp; there's a prince in that story, isn't
there? with--er--plenty of hair on top of his head?"
Miss Tripp, who was actually blushing pink, quite in her old girlish
fashion, exchanged mirthful glances with the engineer.
"I was just coming to the prince," she said. "He was--oh, such a
beautiful prince, all dressed in pale blue, embroidered with pearls and
silver, and on his breast a great flashing diamond star. And when he saw
Cinderella, standing all by herself, in her beautiful gauzy
ball-dress----"
"An' her glass slippers!" gurgled Doris rapturously.
"An' her gwass sippers!" echoed Richard, hugging the story-teller in a
sudden spasm of affection.
"Yes, her glass slippers, of course, darlings," cooed Miss Tripp; "but
the prince did not notice the slippers, he was so agitated by the sight
of her lovely face and her shining golden hair."
Mr. Hickey caught himself gazing dreamily at Miss Tripp's elaborately
arranged coiffure. The yellow gas light fell becomingly upon the
abundant light brown waves and coils, touching them into a shimmering
gold which he did not remember to have noticed before. How well she was
telling the story, too; and how fond of her the Brewster children
appeared to be. He recalled mistily that someone had said, or
written--perhaps it was one of those old author chaps--that it was
impossible to deceive a child. Mr. Hickey was convinced that this must
be true. And insensibly he fell to thinking how pleasant it would be if
this were his own fire-side, and if the lady in the deep wicker chair
were----.
A sound of small hand-clapping brought him out of this blissful revery
with a start. "I like that part best of all," Carroll was saying; "an'
if I'd been that prince I'd 'av taken my big, shining sword and cut off
the heads of those bad, wicked sisters! Yes; I would; I'd like to do
it!" And the sanguinary small boy swaggered up and down, his shoulders
squared and his eyes shining.
"Oh, my dear!" protested Miss Tripp mildly. "You wouldn't be so unkind;
I'm sure you wouldn't."
"I'd take all their pretty dresses away an' wear 'em myself," shrilled
Doris excitedly. "An' I'd--pinch 'em; I'd----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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