BERTHA. 65

“Yes, ma’am. I have crocheted twenty-four mats.”

“You have!” exclaimed Aunt Joanna, smiling at the
thoughé of what one could do with twenty-four mats. “Have
you no dolls ?”

“T have one,” replied Bertha; and here the childishness
came to the surface. “And I love her so; but I wish, I wish
I could dress her as I want to.”

“Why, can’t you?” .

“Grandmamma would not approve of it,” said Bertha.
“ Grandmamma is very good and kind, but I do not believe
she knows just how little girls feel,” she continued, after a.
pause, looking up into Aunt Joanna’s face.

Aunt Joanna smiled and looked down into the wistful eyes.

“Well, dear,” she said, “I believe your grandmother is a
dear good woman, but I think with you that she forgets that
you are not seventy too. Come, don’t you want to play a
little? I will bring my grand-daughter to make friends with
you.”

So saying she went away, and in a few minutes came back
with a dear little girl about Bertha’s age. She had on a pretty
white frock and a sash, and had a happy, merry little face.

“This is my little grand-daughter, Myra,” said Aunt
Joanna. “Now I want to see Bertha having a good time,
Myra, so I leave her to you.” And Aunt Joanna left them
together.

Myra took Bertha by the hand and led her to a group of

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