Of course, if you are even a little girl you must know that
it is as useless to hunt for tears in pie-crust as it is to "hunt for a
needle in a hay-stack." So Letty did not even try to recover her lost
property. But it had one good effect, it made her laugh, and, between
you and me (I tell this to you as a secret), Letty, like every other
girl, little or big, fat or thin, was much pleasanter to look upon when
she smiled than when she cried. But she didn't smile for that. Oh,
dear, no. She smiled because she couldn't help it. She was a
good-natured, sweet-tempered little puss, most times, and possessed of
a very sunny disposition. "Why did she salt her pie-crust with tears,
then?" I hear you ask. Ah, "Why?" And wait till I tell you. The most
curious part of it all was that it was a Thanksgiving crust. There,
now. The worst is out. A common, every-day, week-a-day pie, or even a
Sunday pie, would be bad enough, but a Thanksgiving pie of all things.
Why, everybody is happy at Thanksgiving.
Well, not quite everybody, it seems, because if that was so Letty
wouldn't be crying.
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