. Little "Jim Crow" : and other stories for children . ng-bag, and catching me bythe hand, she unconsciously swept me outof the lives of my little promised husbandand my almost sister. A couple of months later my mother sent me back to Mrs. M s on an errand. As I was about to start home, Mrs. M said: By the way, Carrie, the Mondayafter you left us, a little Jew boy camehere, and asked to see your mother. Igasped, and turned hot all over. She wenton: He was the prettiest boy I ever saw,and made the best bow. I asked himwhat he wanted, but he shook his headand said he had important businesswith
. Little "Jim Crow" : and other stories for children . ng-bag, and catching me bythe hand, she unconsciously swept me outof the lives of my little promised husbandand my almost sister. A couple of months later my mother sent me back to Mrs. M s on an errand. As I was about to start home, Mrs. M said: By the way, Carrie, the Mondayafter you left us, a little Jew boy camehere, and asked to see your mother. Igasped, and turned hot all over. She wenton: He was the prettiest boy I ever saw,and made the best bow. I asked himwhat he wanted, but he shook his headand said he had important businesswith your mother, alone. And he was allkind of knocked in a heap when I toldhim you were both gone for good. Andthen he said: I dont know how I 11 tellEssie! —whoever Essie may be, and— 142 A IKETTY PLAN Why, child, what are you crying for ? Younint afraid of getting lost going home, areyou! No, I thought not. Well, I cried all the way home over thepretty plan that had failed and thewould-be little sister I had lost. AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS. AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS WAS a very small city woman,and it was niy first Christmasin the backwoods. I was buta few months over seven yearsold, but I was a very elderly young per-son indeed. The only absolutely child-ish thing about me was my perfect, myunshakable faith in Santa Glaus. My mother had gone to the distant city,—that visit, and its nearness to Christmas,arousing not the faintest suspicion in mymind,—and she had failed to return at theexpected time. I was unhappy where shehad left me, and had got permission tovisit Grandma (courtesy title only), downthe road. But before I reached the oldlog house my quilted red hood was white,and on my hot little cheeks were cold wetspots where the snowflakes had was neither knocker nor bell nor 10 Af. 145 146 AN AMATEUR SANTA (LAIS even knob on the big door; but from ahole a leather string hung down, and whenone pulled that, it lifted a big latch inside,and one pushed t
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Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectafricanamericans
