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Little girls are the
nicest things that can happen to people. They are born with a bit of
angel-shine about them, and though it wears thin sometimes, there is
always enough left to lasso your heart—even when they are sitting in the
mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading up the street in
Mother’s best clothes.
A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than
anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny
noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth, she
stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is
Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood
dragging a doll by the foot.