I will tell you now why I think Susy did not understand her mother when she said Annie was not a suitable playmate.  In the evening, after Ruthie and Flossy were gone, Susy said to her mother,—­

“I feel real cross with Ruthie, mamma:  I think she puts herself forward.  She goes into a room, and no matter how old the people are that are talking, she speaks up, and says, ‘O, yes, I know all about it.’  I never saw such an old-fashioned little girl.”

“Very well,” said Mrs. Parlin; “if she is rude, take care that the same fault does not appear in yourself, Susy.”

“But, mother,” said Susy, suddenly veering about and speaking in Ruth’s favor, “I don’t know but it’s proper to do as Ruthy does.  If you know something, and other people don’t, ain’t it right to speak up and say it?”

“It is never right for little girls to monopolize conversation, Susy; that is, to take the lead in it, and so prevent older people from talking.  Neither is it proper to pretend to know more than we do, and talk of things beyond our knowledge.”

“I knew you would say so, mother.  I just asked to hear what you would say.  I know Ruthie is ill-mannered:  do you think I ought to play with her any more?”

Mrs. Parlin looked at Susy in surprise.

“Why, you know, mother, you wouldn’t let me play with Annie Lovejoy.  You said, ‘evil communications corrupted good manners.’”

“But can’t you see any difference in the cases, Susy?  What a muddy little head you must wear on your shoulders!”

“Not much of any,” said Susy, trying to think; “they’re both bold; that’s what you don’t like.”

“Anything else, Susy?”

“O, yes, mother; Ruthie’s good, and Annie isn’t.  It was queer for me to forget that!”

“I should think it was, Susy, since it is the only thing of much importance, after all.  Now, it seems to me you are very ready to cast off your friends when their manners offend you.  How would you like it to be treated in the same way?  Suppose Mrs. Turner and Ruthie should be talking together this very minute.  Ruthie says, ’That Susy Parlin keeps her drawers in a perfect tumble; she isn’t orderly a bit.  Susy Parlin never knit a stitch for the soldiers in her life.  Mother, mayn’t I stop playing with Susy Parlin?’”

Susy laughed, and looked a little ashamed.

“Well, mother,” said she, twisting the corner of her handkerchief, “I guess I can’t say anything about Ruthie Turner; she’s a great deal better girl than I am, any way.”

CHAPTER XI.

SUSY’S BIRTHDAY.

Days and weeks passed.  The snowflakes, which had fallen from time to time, and kept themselves busy making a patchwork quilt for mother Earth, now melted away, and the white quilt was torn into shreds.  The bare ground was all there was to be seen, except now and then a dot of the white coverlet.  It was Spring, and everything began to wake up.  The sun wasn’t half so sleepy, and didn’t walk off over the western hills in the middle of the afternoon to take a nap.