There was really nothing too hard or too "girlish" for Tommy to do for
his little sister. Once, somebody who saw him trying to mend a hole in the
baby's petticoat called him "Sissy," and the name clung; for a time the
school yard rang with shouts of "Sissy Carter." But not one word of this
did Mother Carter hear.
"Did you have a good time today?" his mother would ask, and Tommy, with
Sissy in his arms, crowing with delight that she had got him again, would
answer, cheerfully: "A first-rate time. I got a big A for spelling, and
teacher said I had improved in my writing." And not a word would be hinted
about the nicknames or the jeers.
But better school-days came to Tommy before the last thing happened by
which the people found out that he was a hero.
A new little girl came into the fourth grade. She was a pretty girl, and
wore pretty dresses, and had a fluff of brown curls about her face. She was
"smart," too, the boys said; they said she could say "lots funnier things
than Jennie Mills." Then her name pleased them very much; it was Angela.
Whether or not she was smarter than Jennie Mills, it is true that Angela
said some things that Jennie had never thought of.
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