The little girls who lived on Amity Street all wore mittens when they went to school in winter. Nobody’s mother ever thought of anything else to keep small hands warm. Some mothers or grandmothers crocheted them, and some knit them with fancy stitches down the back, or put other mark of distinction upon them; but they were always mittens, and were always fastened to a long ribbon or piece of braid or knitted rein, so that they might not get lost, one from the other,
This connecting-link frequently gave rise to confusion, for when two little girls put their arms around each other’s necks as they walked to school, they sometimes got tangled up in the mitten string and had to duck and turn and bump heads before the right string was again resting on the right shoulder. But as it was possible to laugh a great deal and lose one’s breath while this was going on, it was rather an advantage than otherwise, and little girls who were special chums were pretty sure to manage a tangle every other day at least.
Clarabel Bradley did her tangling and untangling with Josephine Brown, who lived at the end of Amity Street. They both went to the same school and were in the same class. They waited for each other in the morning, and came home together, and shared each other’s candy and ginger cookies whenever there were any, and took firm sides together whenever the school-yard was the scene of dispute.
But into this intimacy came a pair of gloves, almost wrecking it.
The gloves were sent by Clarabel’s aunt, who was young and pretty and taught school in a large city; and they came done up in white tissue-paper inside a box with gilt trimming around the edges and a picture on the center of the cover. Taken out of the paper, they revealed all their alluring qualities. They were of a beautiful glossy brown kid with soft woolly linings and real fur around the wrists, and they fastened with bright gilded clasp: With them was a note which said
For Clarabel, with love from her Aunt Bessie. Not to
be kept for Sundays, but worn every day.
Clarabel’s mother looked doubtful as she read the message. Such gloves were an extravagance even for best—and mittens were warmer. But when she encountered Clarabel's shining eyes she smiled and gave in,
So Clarabel took the gloves to her room that night, and slept with them on the foot-board of her bed, where she could see them the first thing when she waked; and in the morning she put them on and started for school.
One hand was held rigidly by her side, but the other was permitted to spread its fingers widely over the book she carried. Both were well in view if she looked down just a little. Passers-by might see; all Amity Street might see; best of all, Josephine might see?
But Josephine, waiting at the corner, beheld and was impressed to the point of speechlessness. Wherenpon Clarabel dropped her book, and had to pick it up with both hands. The furry wrists revealed themselves fully.
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