"That?" Miss Parrott, too, leaned over on her chair. "Oh--why, that's a
ragged robin, Rachel."
"_Ragged robin!_" repeated Rachel, hopping off from her chair. "Oh, I
want to see it," and she ran around the table-end, and leaned over to get a
better view. "'Tisn't a bit ragged," she cried, very much disappointed,
"and besides, he isn't there."
"Oh, Rachel!" exclaimed Miss Parrott, in dismay. "You must not do so; we
never leave our chairs when we are at the dining-table."
Rachel, thus admonished, scuttled back to her seat, while Hooper groaned
and pretended not to see anything. But she kept her black eyes fastened on
the ragged robins. "There isn't any bird there," she said.
"What, child?"
"You said there was a robin in those flowers," said Rachel again, using her
little brown fingers to designate the vase and its contents, "and that he
was ragged, and there isn't any."
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Miss Parrott; then she laughed. "The flowers are
called ragged robins, Rachel," she said.
"Oh!" said Rachel; then she laughed, too, a merry little peal, that just
bubbled over because she was happy.
"Now eat your luncheon," said Miss Parrott. "Hooper, you may give her some
more milk."
"I don't want any more milk," said Rachel, waving him off with quite an
air. "I've got lots and lots"--peering into her cup. She took up her knife
and fork again, but, looking over them, found so many things to call for
more attention than they seemed to be worthy of, that she soon laid them
down again upon her plate.
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