Little Prudy's Cousin Grace — Key Ideas to Explore

Grace Clifford and Katharine Hallock were such dear friends, and spent so much time together, that you could not think of one without thinking of the other, and people linked their names together, and spoke of "Grace and Cassy," just as one speaks of a "cup and saucer" or a "hook and eye."

Yet they were not in the least alike. There was something very eager and vivid about Grace, with her bright blue eyes, auburn curls, and brilliant color. She had an ecstatic way of laughing, and a wild, agonized way of weeping. She clapped her hands for joy, or wrung them for grief. Her tears fell in showers, but afterward the sun was sure to shine out clearly.

Cassy, on the other hand, was a gentle, brown-eyed little maiden, with long lashes sweeping her cheeks, and brown hair lying quietly behind her ears. She never stormed nor raved.

It was a very rare thing for the girls to disagree. They had such a dear love for each other that they decided never to marry, but to live together in a charming cottage adorned with woodbine, and keep chickens, pigeons and a cat.

At the beginning of our story they were nearly twelve years old, and closer friends than ever. They had exchanged rings as pledges of everlasting fidelity. The ring which Cassy gave Grace was set with gems--ruby, emerald, garnet, amethyst, ruby, and diamond--the initials spelling the word "Regard." This regard-ring had once belonged to Mrs. Hallock; but after being broken and mended it was too small for her, and she had given it to Cassy.

In exchange, Grace put on her friend's third finger a pretty emerald, which had been a good-by present from Mr. Augustus Allen.

One day in March these two Hoosier girls were walking hand in hand down Vine Street, where there was always a fine shade in the summer. Now the trees were leafless, and the bright sun shadowed forth little flickering pictures of their branches on the girls' shawls and hats.

"Why, Cassy Hallock," said Grace, shading her face with one hand, "this sun is bright enough to blind an eagle."

"But it doesn't blind _me_," laughed Cassy. "I can almost look at it without winking."

"Then you must be a half-eagle, Cassy. Why, you don't mind the weather, or any of the bothers! You never fly out of patience! O, Cassy Hallock, I think you're splendid!"

As this was not the first time Cassy had been eulogized as "splendid," she was by no means astonished, but continued to move quietly along, with her usual composure. Grace Clifford seemed a little nervous. Every now and then she would drop her friend's hand, and gather a few blades of grass, or pick up a pebble, then seize Cassy's hand again, and walk on. Cassy watched her companion with some curiosity. "Now, Gracie Clifford," said she at last, "you're keeping something to yourself; I just know you are."

"What if I am?" said Grace, tossing an orange into the air and catching it as it fell; "I needn't tell you every single thing, Cassy!"

"Yes, you must, Gracie Clifford," was the firm reply. "I'm your dearest friend, and am I not going off next week visiting?"

"Well, I've nothing to tell, any way, but just thoughts," said Grace, pocketing her orange, and taking Cassy's hand again, while they each hopped on one foot like happy little robins. "I've a great many thoughts whizzing in my mind all the time, Cassy. I've been thinking lately about-- I mean, I've been wishing, for ages and ages, that I'd been born a boy; but it's silly, and so I never say it."

"Why, Gracie Clifford, I've heard you say it five hundred times! I'd as soon be a girl, because I _am_, and there's the end of it."

"But to grow up and be a woman!" said Grace, with a shudder. "Do you ever think of the wrinkles, and the cross kitchen girls, and the children that have to cut their teeth? And you can't sleep nights; and then they won't let you vote!"

"I don't want to vote, Gracie; what would _I_ vote for?"

"O, child! For union and liberty, and all the good things. Don't you go to encouraging slavery, Cassy!"

"No," laughed Cassy, "I won't."

"And don't let such swearing people as Mr. Blake go to Congress. But there, _you_ can't help it, Cassy; _you_ never'll vote, neither will I. And there's Horace, --what do you suppose that boy cares about politics? But _he'll_ vote fast enough."

"O, yes," chimed in Cassy, beginning to grow indignant, "only because he's a boy!"

"And he'll come to me, Horace will, just as likely as not, Cassy, and I'll have to tell him which way to vote."