Two little Wooden Shoes [antikvár]

TWO LITTLE WOODEN SHOES. A SKETCH. CHAPTER I. Bebee sprang out of bed at daybreak. She was sixteen. It seemed a very wonderful thing to be as much as that—sixteen—a woman quite. A cock was crowing under her lattice—he said how old you are!—-how old you are! every time that he sounded his clarion. She opened the lattice and wished him. good-day, with a laugh. It was so pleasant to be woke by him and to think that no one in all the world could ever call her a child any more. There was a kid bleating in the shed. There was a thrush singing in the dusk of the sycamore leaves. There was a calf lowing to its mother away there beyond the fence. There were dreamy