in two twelve-quart milk pails filled to overflowing with their creamy contents.
"Hi there! Cherry Bounce! Steady, steady—without you want to mop up this woodshed."
"O Chi! I'm just as miser'ble; a new little girl's coming to live with us always, and we'll have no more good times."
"That's queer," said Chi, balancing the pails deftly as Cherry fluttered about, rather uncertain as to where she should betake herself in the cold. "I should think it would be the more, the merrier. When's she comin'?"
"This very month," said Cherry, opening her eyes a little wider, and forgetting to sniff in her delight at telling some news. "She's a rich little girl, but very poor, too, mother says, and she's been sick and is coming here to get well. I suppose she's lost all her flesh while she's been sick, like Aunt Tryphosa; don't you? That's why she's so poor."
"Hm!—rich 'n' poor too; that's bad for children," said Chi, soberly.
"Why?" asked Cherry, surprised into drying her small tears and forgetting to sniff.
"Coz 't is. You see, all you children are rich 'n' poor too; so she'll keep you comp'ny, as she's poor where you're rich as Crœsus, 'n you're poor as Job's turkey where she's rich."
"Why, what do you mean, Chi?"
"You wait awhile, 'n' you'll find out." And with that, Cherry had to be content.
As the woodshed was too cold to be long comfortably
