"Little Clara lived on a farm away out in the
country. She was the youngest of seven children,
and a great pet, of course. But Clara's little
restless feet and mischievous fingers often
brought her into trouble and disgrace.
"One day Clara's mother had occasion to go to the
store, which was three miles away. Clara wanted to
go too. Her mother feared she would be in the way,
and looked doubtful; but big brother Ben said,
'Let her go, mother. She'll be good, I know.'
"'Yes; let her go,' said Susan, who was trying to
net a bead purse, and keep Clara's fingers out of
her box of beads at the same time.
[Illustration]
"'Do let her go!' said Roger. 'I want to rig my ship this afternoon; and
a fellow can't do much with her around.'
"So it was decided that Clara should go; and it
was the work of but a few moments to polish up the
chubby face and hands, and brush the curly hair.
The pink dress, red shoes, and white sun-bonnet,
were put on as quickly as possible, and Clara was
ready.
"'Now, do try to behave yourself, child,' said
Susan, as Ben lifted the little girl into the
wagon.
"'Of course I will,' replied Clara, pouting her
red lips.
"'But did she behave herself?' you ask. Ah! I will
tell you.
"When they reached the store, Mr. Dale, the
storekeeper, came out to assist them; and, as he
helped Clara out of the wagon, he called her 'a
little lady,' which made her feel all of two
inches taller than usual. Then he gave her a stick
of candy, and lifted her to a seat on the counter,
close beside a dear old pussy-cat, who purred
loudly as the little girl smoothed her fur.
"Clara's mother had a good many things to buy, and
very soon forgot all about her little daughter;
but when Ben came in, half an hour later, his
first question was, 'Where's Clara, mother?'
"Sure enough, where was Clara? Her seat was empty.
She had disappeared. 'Clara, Clara!' called both
her mother and Ben; but there was no answer.
"'She's in some mischief,' said Ben; and, as quick
as thought, he rushed into the back part of the
store, followed by his mother and Mr. Dale. What a
sight met their eyes! There stood Clara, in the
centre of the room, stepping back slowly, as a
pool of molasses, streaming steadily from a
hogshead in the corner, crept towards the toes of
her little red shoes. Ben caught up Clara as quick
as a flash, and----"
"No, grandma," interrupted mamma, "it was Mr. Dale who did that, while
Ben made haste to turn the faucet to prevent further mischief."
"Why, mamma," said I, "how do you know? Were you there?"
"I heard about it," said she; and she and grandma both smiled. "The
little girl was just my age, and I knew her very well."
"And your names were both Clara," said I. "How queer!"
And mamma and grandma must have thought it queer, too; for they both
laughed heartily.