CHAPTER VII.
BOTH SIDES OF A STORY.
The little school was not resumed for some time. Not that Prudy had forgotten it, by any means; but the next Saturday she had visitors, and the following Wednesday an exciting event occurred. It concerned Susy's pony. Percy Eastman said he was called Wings "because he hadn't any feet." Susy was vexed at this remark, and Prudy, taking her part, said, "Percy is such a pert boy;" adding next moment, "What is pert?"
But Percy only meant that the pony sadly needed some new shoes; and this was very true.
Now it happened that Mr. Parlin, being too busy to go himself, sent Eddy Johnson and Charley Piper with Wings to the blacksmith's shop. It seemed to Susy that the boys were gone a long while, for it was Wednesday afternoon, and she was impatient for a ride. She sat down to practise a little, but her mind was out of doors, and the unwilling piano seemed crying out to be let alone.
"I can't play," said Susy, decidedly; "and that's the truth."
At that moment a sweet little voice was heard, singing, "John's Brown buddy;" and Dotty Dimple's head and shoulders were thrust into the room.
"I've broked it," said she; "I've broked it all to smash."
"Broke what, for pity's sakes?"
"Your teapot," replied Dotty, in a very cheerful voice.
"O, I never did, in all my life, see such a child," wailed Susy. "What made you go and meddle with my dear little gold-edged tea-set?"
Dotty looked like an injured lamb, brushed the wayward hair out of her eyes, and gazed wistfully into her sister's face.
"Is I your little comfort, Susy? Is I your little comfort?"
"No," cried Susy, wavering between a smile and a tear; "no, indeed! To think of your being a comfort! O, my stars!"
"Well, then," continued the little one, in a soothing, cooing tone, "then I never broked it; it broked itself!"
So saying, she produced from the depths of her pocket the fragments of the gilt-edged toy. They were past the healing power even of Spalding's glue, that was certain. At the painful sight, poor Susy's patience flew into as many pieces as the teapot.
"O, you naughty, naughty thing, to say it broke itself!"
"Then it didn't," replied the little culprit, not a whit dismayed. "Then 'twas Prudy. We was playing 'thimble-coop.' She broked it all to smash!"
"O, mother," said Susy, running out to the kitchen; "Dotty's making up fibs as fast as she can speak! You'll have to shut her up in the closet."
"Not so fast, my dear. Let us wait till we hear both sides of the story."
And, as it turned out, Dotty really did not deserve to be punished for wrong stories. She and Prudy had each assisted in breaking the teapot; one had knocked it off the bureau, and the other had stepped on it. But Dotty, who gloried in "a fuss," had begged to be the one to tell Susy the startling news. She wished to see her eyes flash, and hear her expressions of surprise. She knew that, however angry Susy might be, there was one magical sentence which would always her to terms: "Dotty'll go out doors, 'out her hat, get cold, have the coop, and die!"
At the bare mention of such a fearful thing, Susy's anger was sure to cool at once. This time Dotty varied her method a little.
"See," said she, looking out of the window; "the boys has came."
Of course that was the last of Susy's thoughts about the teapot. She rushed out of doors bareheaded, followed by Dotty. Eddy Johnson was just hitching Wings to a post near the gate.
"Have they shoed him?" said Susy.
"Shoed him? I should think they had; all of that," replied Eddy, indignantly.
"Booted him, more like," muttered Charley Piper, in the same tone.
"Why, what do you mean, boys?" said Susy, patting the pony, and gazing tenderly into his eyes.
"O, we don't mean anything, as I know of. You must run into the house and ask your mother to come out here," said Eddy, mysteriously.
"Why, it's my own pony, that my own father gave me, and if there's anything the matter with it I should think you might tell," cried Susy, her voice shaking with a vague dread of some terrible mishap.
"Well, may be there isn't anything ails him," returned Eddy, coolly. "I never said there was; but your mother'll know!"
"O, Dotty Dimple, run into the house this very minute, please to," exclaimed Susy, "and ask mother—if she's combing her hair, or anything—to come right out here as quick as she can run, and not wait! O, dear, dear, dear! Why, Dotty Dimple Parlin! you haven't started yet! Quick! quick! quick!"
Dotty, who had only waited to be spoken to the second time, now ran in such haste that she stumbled on the piazza steps; but, nothing daunted, jumped up and went on, delighted to know that this time something had probably happened. She startled her mother, and called her away from her toilet, with the sudden cry that the boys and pony were 'most killed.
At the same time she had the pleasure of throwing Prudy into a panic,—dear little Prudy, who had been for the last five minutes searching her treasures in the hope of finding some toy which would replace Susy's teapot.
Prudy and Dotty appeared at the gate in a very brief space; Prudy with her mouth in the shape of the letter O, and Mrs. Parlin not far off, in the act of fastening her breastpin.
"Well, boys, what is it?" said the good lady, smiling. "I hardly think anything very serious has happened, either to you or the pony."
"You tell," said Eddy to Charley; "I dassn't. The blacksmith's man may be mad if I do. But he's abused this hoss, though," continued Eddy, not waiting to let Charley speak for him; "he's abused him awfully! It's right up and down mean; and three of us boys seen him!"
Susy clasped her hands, and performed a "stamp-act" on the pavement.
"See there," said Eddy, pointing triumphantly to Wings' left hind leg; "see that—will you?"
True enough, there were two or three small wounds, out of which was oozing thick dark blood. Susy looked as if her heart was breaking, but not a word did she speak.
"Pete Grimes did that with his hobnail, cowhide boots!" said Eddy, sternly.
"With his hammer, you mean," interposed Charley.
"With his boot, sir," persisted Eddy, with increasing eloquence. "Didn't I see him, me and Dan Murphy? Didn't we stand there by the coal-bin, sir? He booted him well, Mis' Parlin. I'll tell you where he did it; here on the left side, ma'am. Look where the hair sticks up! Pooty well mauled—ain't he, ma'am? Pete swore at him, too. Never heard such talk—did you, Charley?"
"No, ma'am, I never did," replied Master Charley, addressing Mrs. Parlin, who fancied she could detect on Wings' glossy hide the marks of a boot, though there were no traces of the wicked oaths.
"It is a most abusive thing—if it is so," said she, with much feeling; for if anything could move her gentle heart to anger, it was cruelty to animals. "What made Mr. Grimes behave so strangely, boys? Was the pony restless?"
"Restless? No, indeed, ma'am," replied Eddy, the orator; "as gentle as a lamb, ma'am. It was Pete Grimes's wicked temper, and his wicked disposition; that's what it was."
It was well for Susy that her over-strained feelings now found vent in words and tears. "There is no grief like the grief which does not speak." Her dumb agony gave way, and she wept and raved like a little wild thing.
Mrs. Parlin ordered the boys to lead the pony around to the back door, and there she washed out his wounds, trying all the while to soothe Susy, whose heart was beating a quick-step, and who trembled in every limb.
"Old Grimes is dead, that good old man!" repeated Prudy, with angry emphasis; "but it wasn't his father. No, indeed; with the old blue buttons down the back! Why, Peter is an awful man! I saw him once, and his face looked as if he'd been rubbing it on a pen-wiper! There, Susy, don't you cry," she added, applying a moral lesson to her sister's wounded feelings, like a healing plaster; "he's dreadful wicked, and one of these days he'll get hurt his own self; a horse'll strike him!"
"Yes, a horse'll strike him!" echoed Dotty Dimple.
"But what good will that do Wings?" moaned Susy. "Evil for evil only makes things worse."
Her indignation did not lessen, but rather increased, the longer she reflected upon the subject. What right had a man to abuse anybody's horse—more especially hers?
"Mr. Grimes ought to be 'dited, and sent to the Reform School or State's Prison this very night," said she, in her wrath. Prudy thought precisely the same; also Miss Dimple, who looked upon the whole affair as a joke, intended for her amusement.
When Mr. Parlin came home to tea, and heard the story, he did not blame Susy in the least for her indignation, but started off for the blacksmith's with the limping pony, saying he meant to "inquire into the business."
"May I go with you?" cried Susy.
"Me, too?" said Prudy, echoed by Dotty.
"Only Susy," replied their father; "she may go if she likes."
Susy very much wondered what her father was going to do. As they approached the shop, she saw, standing at the door, the man whose face looked as if it had been "rubbed on a pen-wiper."
"Mr. Grimes," said Mr. Parlin, in a pleasanter manner than Susy thought was at all necessary, "Mr. Grimes, I believe I owe you for shoeing this pony."
While Mr. Grimes was making the change, Mr. Parlin added,—
"How happens it, my friend, that this little animal bears such marks of ill treatment? See how he limps. Look at this gash."
"O," said Mr. Grimes, "he lamed himself by kicking out against the coal-box; he's a nervous thing."
Mr. Parlin then told the boys' story.
"It is not so, upon my word and honor, sir," replied sooty-faced Mr. Grimes, with great amazement. "I'll leave it to Mr. Fox."
Mr. Fox, and two or three other men, declared very positively that they had seen little Wings beating himself against the coal-box; and one of them pointed out to Mr. Parlin the blood-stain on the edge of the wood.
"You can't trust much to what boys say, especially such harum-scarum fellows as Ed Johnson," added Mr. Fox. "I shouldn't wonder, now, Grimes, if he and that Piper boy got their tempers up, and tried to spite you, for ordering them out of the shop. They were troublesome, and he had to speak sharp," added Mr. Fox, addressing Mr. Parlin again.
"That's so!" exclaimed Mr. Grimes. "You take three little chaps, and have 'em meddling with your nails, and sticking scraps of iron into the coals, and it makes a man cross—or it frets me, and I told 'em to quit."
"Saucy little rogues," chimed in Mr. Fox, anxious for the honor of his workman.
"As for my striking the pony," continued Mr. Grimes, "I might have patted him once or twice with the handle of the hammer. I often do that; but my blows wouldn't kill a fly."
After a little more conversation Mr. Parlin was satisfied that no real cruelty had been used towards Wings. Susy's heart rose like a feather.
"Always wait till you hear both sides of a story!" said Mr. Parlin, as he and his daughter walked home.
"Just the words mother said this very day," cried Susy, skipping lightly over the paving-stones. "It's so queer you and mother should both talk so much alike."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WATER-KELPIE.
It was nearly time for vacation. As the children were to start on the next Monday for Willow-brook, their mother allowed them to spend their last Wednesday afternoon with their cousin Florence. It fell to Prudy's lot to dress her little sister.
"I'm ever so glad," said Dotty, "that the barber snipped off my kyurls. Don't you think I do look like a boy, now, Prudy? You may call me Tommy, if you want to; I'm willin'."
"There, now," she exclaimed, when her toilet was made, "say me my lesson; please to, Prudy."
"O, I forgot all about that" replied the little teacher, uneasily. "Susy 'll be done practising in half an hour, and I thought I'd just have time to make my doll's boots,—finish them, I mean. Can't you wait till Saturday, Dotty?"
"O, my suz, Prudy Parlin! When I get to be a great sister to you, I won't treat you so. I want to get my letters all smooth done to-day,—don't want to wait till Sat'day."
At any other time Prudy would have been gratified to see Dotty show so much eagerness.
"Be kind to thy sister," hummed the gentle little teacher. "Yes, I will. I'm always glad after I've been kind. Nothing makes me love Dotty so well as to try to please her!"
"Now," said she, calling her school to order, "you've learned as far as S, which I think is doing finely, all alone, with nobody to help us. This next letter stands, you see, for a top. What is it we drink out of cups?"
"I don't get anything but milk, and that's in a mug," replied Dotty in an injured tone.
"But what does mother drink? Now think."
Dotty eyed the letter sharply. "Why, mamma drinks coffee sometimes, and it has grounds; but they don't look like that thing, the grounds don't! Why, that thing looks like a spade, with the teeth out, wrong side up."
"You mean a rake" laughed Prudy. "Well, dear, this is T."
When Dotty came to X, she declared it stood "for your thumb. Susy said so, and it was in the music-book."
Now came an hour of triumph for the little pupil. Her mother was both surprised and delighted to hear that her youngest daughter knew all her letters.
"She can say them skipping about," said Prudy, "and can spell a few little words, too."
"C, a, t, cat, d, o, g, Zip," laughed Dotty, showing her deepest dimples, and frisking about the room.
"My dear little ones," said Mrs. Parlin, kissing both the children, "I am really very much gratified. Both teacher and pupil have shown a great deal of patience and perseverance."
These words from her beloved mother were most precious to Prudy. Dotty, though she did not know what was meant by patience and perseverance, presumed it was something fine, and laughed and danced in great glee.
Nothing remarkable happened during the visit to Florence Eastman, except that Miss Dimple and Johnny were found running off the track of the upper railroad just one second after the engine started. Everybody was very much frightened when it was all safely over. But Dotty said,—
"O, my suz! Me an' Johnny has done that a hundred and a million times—hasn't we, Johnny? We wait till the injin w'istles, then we run on to the platform—don't we, Johnny?"
It came out after a while, that these reckless children had also been in the habit of crossing pins on the track, to make "scissors," the weight of the cars pressing the two pins into a solid x.
"I still tremble," said Mrs. Eastman, with white lips. "This Alice Parlin is the most daring little creature I ever saw, more harum-scarum than ever Susy was."
Prudy was Mrs. Eastman's pet. "Prudy," she said, "was a natural lady: the other two were romps."
The next Monday Mrs. Parlin and the three children started for Willow-brook. Dotty wished to take her sweet Pusheen and her darling Zip; but it was decided that Pusheen must stay at home, and help keep house.
"Be a good kitty," said her little mistress, embracing her, "and eat all the mice in the mouse-chamber, 'fore they grow up rats!"
But Zip was allowed to go to Willow-brook; and Dotty watched him all the way, scarcely allowing him to stir from the seat beside her.
"No," said she, holding him firmly by both ears; "Dotty'd be glad to let you get down, but she doesn't think it's best. You is only a doggie, and you'd get runned over and die. So now, Zippy, you'll have to give up, and it's no use to bark."
But Zip, having the spirit of a dog, would bark.
The whole party reached Willow-brook in safety, and had a joyful welcome.
"Prudy, my aunt Louise is the handsomest lady there is in this world," said Dotty, privately.
"O, Dotty, how can you think so," exclaimed Prudy, "when there's only one woman can be that!"
"Who's she?"
"Mother, of course!"
When Dotty was called to supper, she was found beside Pincher's green grave, telling her "brother Zip" the story of that dog's death, and trying to impress upon his mind the importance of keeping his paws out of fox-traps.
It was delightful to be at grandma Parlin's once more. The summer-house, the seat in the tree, and the swing, were all in their old places, and had been waiting a whole year for the children. A few things had been added: a hennery,—called by Dotty "a henpeckery"—and a graceful white boat, named the Water-Kelpie. This boat was kept chained to a stake on the bank, and no one could have a sail in it without first obtaining the key, which hung over the bird-cage, in the back parlor.
Susy was charmed with the boat. It was lighter and nicer than the old canoe, which had so long been used by the family. She and Lonnie Adams, her aunt Martha's nephew, took daily lessons in rowing; but Susy, who had for years been accustomed to the water, knew how to manage a boat far better than did Master Lonnie. The boy strained every nerve, to very little purpose, while Susy would lightly dip in the paddle, and turn it with perfect ease.
"I don't care," said Lonnie; "guess you can't drive a nail any better than I can, Susy Parlin, and I can row her some, anyhow. Now, Abner, can't I row her?"
"Yes, my boy, I think I've heard you roar," replied Abner, with a provoking smile.
"Well, can't I row her this way?"
"Middlin' well," returned Abner, cautiously; "but little Sue, here, is the water-man for me."
Susy's cheeks glowed, and there was a proud flash in her eyes as they met Lonnie's. At that moment she felt equal to the task of steering a ship across the Atlantic Ocean.
Not long after this praise from Abner, aunt Martha said that she and Master Lonnie were going over the river, after some wild-flower roots, and would be glad to have the boat sent for them at five o'clock.
"Mayn't I be the one to go?" asked Susy.
"If you like," replied the grandmother; "that is, if Abner is willing."
Susy knew perfectly well that her grandmother had no idea of allowing her to go alone; but it so happened, when she reached the river-bank with the boat-key, that Abner was nowhere to be seen.
"Seems to me," thought Susy, "Abner is generally somewhere else."
"Where you goin', all alone, 'thout me?" cried Dotty Dimple, from the top of the bank.
"You here? What did you come for?" said Susy.
For answer, Dotty took a pair of rubber overshoes out of Zip's mouth.
"Grandma says to put 'em right on, or you'll catch the hookin' cough; the boat's wet."
"There, now," said Susy, putting on the rubbers, "I've forgot the basket for those Jack-in-the-pulpit roots. Didn't grandma send it up?"
"No, she sended up me," replied Dotty; adding, quickly, "and I'm goin' where you go, you know; and if you don't go anywhere, I'm goin' there, too."
"That's just the way it is with you, Dotty Dimple; always coming when I don't expect you."
"Prudy coaxed me to," said Dotty, with one of her sweetest smiles and deepest dimples.
"Coaxed you?"
"Well," faltered Dotty, "she wanted to come her own self. She said she wished I'd stay to home,—so, of course I camed!"
"I'll tell you how it is," said Susy, thoughtfully. "That queer old Abner's nowhere to be seen. I suppose he's in the cornfield, or the meadow, or the barn. It's after five; and what will aunt Martha think? I could row across the river well enough by myself, if you'd only run home; you're such a bother!"
"O, my darlin' sister Susy! I won't do nothin' but just sit still. Who's your precious comfort?"
"Well, I don't know but I'll take you, then. Come, little Miss Trouble, jump into the boat."
So Dotty Dimple, being what Mr. Allen had called a "child-queen," had her own way, as usual.
"Why, where's the paddles?" said Susy. "The men must have hid them. Dear me, I can't stop to hunt; and here it is five o'clock long ago! O, I'll take this good smooth shingle, I declare! I guess it washed ashore on purpose; it's almost equal to a paddle.—Now we'll go, all so nice," continued Susy, fearlessly dipping the chance-found shingle into the water.
"O, my suz," said Dotty, clapping her hands, which had any amount of dimples on the backs; "we're goin'!"
"Of course we're going!" said Susy, proudly. "What did you expect? I can do five times as well with a shingle as Lonnie can with a paddle. What do you suppose aunt Martha'll say? 'Bravo! those are smart children, to be rowing all alone, by themselves'!"
"O, Susy, what a hubble-bubble we make in the water! Look at the bubbles winkin' their eyes! See those pretty wrinkles, all puckered up in the water!"
"I see them," said Susy, steadily plying her shingle; "but why don't you sit still? You'll tip us both over, as sure as this world; and if we get drowned I guess grandma'll scold! I shall be the one to have all the blame."
"O, dear," said Dotty, reeling about from side to side, "the boat's dizzy! My head's goin' to tip into the water. But don't you cry, Susy; you catch hold of me, and I shan't go!"
Susy was suddenly seized with mortal terror.
"Dotty Parlin, I'll never take you anywhere again, as long as I live! You sit as still as ever you can, and fold your hands; fold them both!"
Dotty obeyed at once, and sat up quite straight, looking very sweet, and at the same time slightly acid, like a stick of lemon-candy. The Water Kelpie, now that Dotty was quiet, floated on, safely and surely, towards the opposite shore.
It was a pretty picture—the white boat, the graceful children, and the still, blue water. Susy's fair arms were bared to the elbows, and her face was deeply flushed. Dotty's beautiful eyes danced, but she herself was motionless and demure.
When they landed, Susy called aloud for her aunt Martha to come and secure the boat. Her voice echoed from afar, waking "the sleep of the hills," but no aunt Martha appeared. The children clambered out at last, and Susy chained the boat to a stick, which she drove into the sand. But the sand was light, and the boat was heavy, and the current strong; so before the children had walked a dozen rods, the Water-Kelpie was floating down stream of its own free will.
Thus it happened that although aunt Martha was certainly surprised, she did not seem very much pleased. She did not say, "Bravo! my two nieces are smart children, to be rowing all alone by themselves." Nothing of the sort. She reproved Susy for her rash conduct, and sent her and Lonnie around two miles, by the bridge, to ask Abner to come for them with the canoe.
Lonnie was very much comforted when he saw that Susy received no praise.
"I can row her myself," said he; "but I wouldn't put Dotty in, and most drown her, and dab along with that shingle."
The runaway Water-Kelpie was caught a little way below the bridge, and Abner slyly laid by the dripping shingle, and afterwards showed it to everybody, as a proof that "our Sue was an amazin' smart little water man."
This famous boat-ride only had the effect to make Dotty Dimple more fearless than ever; but her next adventure on the water proved somewhat serious.
CHAPTER IX.
BROTHER ZIP.
There was to be a remarkable supper at grandma Parlin's, in honor of Colonel Augustus Allen, who was expected in the cars. There had been a grand excursion to welcome the soldiers, and the stage would probably be very late. Susy and Prudy had the promise of sitting up till it got in, if Dotty Dimple was only willing. But Dotty said,—
"O, no; you better go to bed when I go, Prudy, or you'll hear somebody scream."
"Let's see," said Prudy. "I've thought of something nice. Wouldn't you like to go to aunt Martha's, and stay all the afternoon and all night?"
Dotty gave a little purr, like a happy kitten.
"O, yes, if they'll let me drink choclid out o' that silver mug."
"But who'll go with you?" said Prudy. "There, I know—Abby Grant! I'll go ask mother."
Prudy thought that she herself could not possibly be spared just now to walk as far as aunt Martha's.
Abby Grant, who was supposed to be a good child, was very glad to take charge of Dotty, and called for her at two o'clock.
Aunt Louise was in the kitchen, whipping cream. "O, my suz," said Dotty, with shining eyes; "mayn't I taste o' those bubbles 'fore I go?"
Aunt Louise poured the foaming cream over some jellies, which stood in glasses.
"You shall have some to-morrow," said she, pausing to kiss Dotty, her favorite niece. Then she led the two little girls into the dining-room, where the long table was already spread for Company. Dotty could hardly keep her hands off the nice things.
"There," said aunt Louise, giving each of the children an orange, "now you may go. Abby, be sure to take good care of Dotty. Don't trust her out of your sight one minute.—Hark! there's the door-bell. You may go out of the house by the back-door."
Then Miss Louise hastened from the dining-room, without looking back to see whether the children obeyed her or not. Dotty was, in general, prompt to do as she was bidden by older people; but just now both the children found it hard to leave that tempting table. They dared not taste the dainties, but Abby thought it could surely do no harm just to touch them. But when they had gone as far as that, Abby, who was a sly, half-taught child, grew bolder, and a sudden impulse seized her to pocket a few sweetmeats, if she could only do so without being seen by Dotty's keen eyes.
"Come, Dotty Parling," said she, "you just go ask somebody to brush your hair; it's all over your head."
Dotty sighed as she cast a last glance at the table, and then, without a word, went up stairs, unwilling to be seen by aunt Martha with her "hair all over her head."
Then Abby's heart beat fast. She heard voices in the parlor, and knew that at any moment some one might enter the dining-room, and discover her. So making a hasty choice of two large pieces of jelly-cake, and half a dozen tarts, she swept out of the room just in time to escape meeting grandma Parlin.
Her pocket was stuffed quite full, and one end of a slice of cake peeped out, though she tried her best to press it down. But Abby had a hope that no one would notice it through her white apron.
As Dotty's hair was now in fine order, the two children set out on their walk. They had gone but a few steps when Zip came trotting along, with all speed, looking up in their faces as if to say, "What have I done, that I can't go too?"
"Queer what made him want to come," said Abby, tartly.
"He loves his little sister," said Dotty, stroking his nose. "He shall go, he shall; he's a darling."
The dog kept beside the children, and every now and then Abby secretly punched him with a stick, while Dotty was patting his head, and chatting with him.
It was a long way to aunt Martha's, and Abby, besides feeling guilty, and ashamed of herself, was also very anxious to eat the goodies which made such a bunch in her pocket. Zip seemed to know there was cake somewhere, and sniffed about in a way which made her rather nervous.
"Here, let's creep under this fence," said she; "what's the use to go 'round by the road? It's a great deal nearer to your aunt's house through the field."
"There, child," cried she, when they were on the other side of the fence, "now I want to go behind this clump of trees, to—to find a book I left here yesterday: but you mustn't come, Dotty."
"What for can't I? Yes, I shall, Abby Grant; you shame yourself! I'm goin' every single where you go; so, now, you'll have to give up!"
"Dot Parling, you go right along with your doggie! I'll come in a minute."
Dotty thought a girl of Abby's age had no right to command her. She stamped her little foot, but it made no sound in the soft grass.
"I isn't a-goin' to go long with my doggie, Abby Grant; 'cause—so there!"
"But you must. You know, Dot Parling," said Abby, more gently, "your grandma expects you to do just what I tell you. I'm afraid, dear, you won't get any of that bubbled cream if you don't mind, nor any tarts."
The child queen began to think it was wisest to obey; but she did so with a very ill grace.
"Well, Abby Grant, I will go long with my doggie; but it's cause I'm tired, and don't want to help you find your old book—so, there!"
"That's right. Dotty. Start quick—can't you?"
Dotty took "high ground" at once. She looked Abby full in the face.
"Do you like yourself, Abby Grant?"
"I don' know. Yes: why?"
"'Cause I shouldn't think you would! I 'spise you!"
Having freed her mind, Dotty walked on with Zip, only turning back once, to exclaim,—
"There, Abby, now you'll have to give up!"
Abby, naughty girl, ate her cake in secret, staining her white apron with the jelly, while little Miss Dimple trudged on, thinking it very strange Abby should be so long finding that book.
Perhaps for the reason that she was rather out of sorts, and thinking about Abby rather than about the road, she missed her way, and soon found herself in a narrow lane she had never seen before.
Zip looked rather uneasy, but followed close by her side. Dotty walked on and on, till the track had faded quite away. This was not the road to aunt Martha's. Why didn't Abby come?
Dotty, too proud to cry, too angry to look back, wandered till she came to the edge of the Parlin woods. Here was a little creek, tumbling over some small gray rocks; the same "creek" where Horace had sometimes gone fishing.
"True as you live," said Dotty to herself, "here's a teenty-tonty river."
There was no way of crossing the creek, and the child felt as if she had come to the very end of the world. Her courage began to fail.
"Dotty Dimple," said she, stamping her foot, "don't you cry! If you do cry, Dotty Dimple, I'll shut you up in the closet."
But, in spite of these brave words, the unhappy child felt two or three tears raining down her cheeks. She now seated herself on the grass, and screamed for Abby.
"When she comes," thought Dotty, "I'll tell her she's 'shamed herself!"
At first it seemed as if Abby were answering her; but the sound proved to be only the echo of Dotty's own voice. O, she might scream all the afternoon, and Abby wouldn't try to hear! O, dear; before anybody would come, a bear, or a wolf, or a whale might rush right out of the woods and eat her up! Then how Abby would cry! Abby's mother would whip her with a big stick, and say, "there, now; what made you go behind the trees, and let that little Parlin girl lose herself, and get ate up! I don't think you're very polite, you naughty girl!"—O, how everybody would cry!
But what was that little funny thing on the water? Forgetting her sudden fear of bears and whales, a fear which Abby herself had put into her little head, Dotty gazed at the "funny thing." Could it be a little truly sailboat? Yes, it certainly was. How it got into the creek Dotty never stopped to think; the question was, how could she get it out?
She blew it with her breath, but it only floated farther away. She waited, hoping it would turn about, and come towards her. She threw sticks at it, but in vain. The boys, who had set it sailing had gone into the woods for raspberries, would have laughed to see her efforts. Presently she took off her hat, held it by one string, and flung it in, as if it had been a fishing-net. It was all of no use; the boat acted as if it were alive, and did not choose to be caught.
Dotty had forgotten all about Abby and the visit to aunt Martha's.
"I know what I'll do," thought she, winking very fast. "I'll catch that boat; I will!"
When Dotty had made up her mind, she never stopped for trifles. She drew off her stockings and gaiters, and stepped into the creek. Boys waded in the water, why couldn't she? There was nothing to bite her! She wasn't afraid!
She had supposed the water would only cover her feet, but she found herself sadly mistaken. The creek was remarkably deep, and, more than that, the bottom was so soft that she sank down, down, at every step.
Poor child! It was hard enough to get lost; it was harder still to be drowned!
"O, papa!" she screamed; "O, mamma! O, Prudy! can't you come? I don't want to drown, and not have you drown, Prudy. Can't you come, somebody come!"
But there were no human ears near enough to hear her piteous cries. She must have drowned—there is no doubt of it—if Zip had not been close at hand. The moment he saw her sinking, he gave a low bark and swam after her.
Before he could reach the unfortunate child the water was up to her waist, and she was wringing her little helpless hands, and saying, "Now I lay me down to sleep!"
Faithful old Zip lost not a moment, but seized her skirts and dragged her to the bank, laying her on the ground as tenderly as her own mother could have done.
Now you see why it is that God had put it into Zip's loving heart to "want to come with his little sister."
Abner, who arrived a few minutes later, in order to cut some young birches for his fence, said,—
"Wasn't it lucky, that that dog happened to be right on the spot? And lucky, too, that I happened along in the nick of time, to carry the poor little girl home in my arms?"
But the truth is, in this world which our Heavenly Father watches over, nothing ever comes by chance, and events do not happen.
Abby shed many bitter tears, but they were not so much tears of sorrow for her sin, as of shame for being found out. Such weeping does no good. Indeed I am afraid it only hardened Abby's heart.
But the day ended gloriously for Dotty. She was handed about to be kissed by everybody, and was, after all, allowed to sit up till nine o'clock, and actually ate a "bubbled cream," sitting as close as she could beside Colonel Allen's elbow.
CHAPTER X.
DR. PRUDY.
The next day Dotty had a severe cold, and her mother, fearing the croup, did not allow her to go out of doors. This was hard for the child. She felt very restless, because she had to give up "housekeeping" with Prudy, a very fascinating game, which could only be played on the river-bank. She looked out of the kitchen window, and saw some carpenters shingling the barn.
"O, hum!" she murmured, "I wish grandpa wouldn't mend his barn!"
A white mist was creeping slowly over the river and the distant hills.
"There, now," she sighed, "I wish the earth wouldn't breave so hard!"
Then she went into the parlor, like a little gray cloud.
"O, dear; I don't like this house, 'cause it's got a top to it! Wish I was somewhere else!"
"Poor child," said Colonel Allen, who was seated on the sofa, looking out of the bay-window upon the garden; "do you love home better than this beautiful spot?"
"No," replied the little one, shaking her head. "I don't love my home, 'cause I live there; I don't love nothin'. O, hum, suz!"
Then Dotty wandered into the nursery, and stood all alone, leaning against the lounge.
"I shouldn't think my mother'd let me be so cross," mused she.
She did not cry, for she had learned very young that crying is of no use; and it may be, too, that she had only a small fountain of tears back of her eyes. Prudy, entering the nursery in eager haste, for her "bean-bags," was touched at sight of her sister's sad face.
"There, now, I'll put back my bean-bags, and try to make her happy," said Prudy to herself. "That will be following the Golden Rule; for it's doing unto Dotty as I want Susy to do unto me, when I'm sick."
She went quietly up to Dotty, who still stood leaning gloomily against the lounge. The child turned around with a sudden smile. It cheered her to see Prudy's sweet face, which was always sunny with a halo of happy thoughts.
"Are you real sick, though, Dotty Dimple?"
"Yes, I are," replied Dotty, well pleased to be asked such a question. "I got 'most drowned, you know. O, I wish you'd stayed out in the rain the other day, and got cold; then you'd have been sick, too."
Prudy smiled, for she knew that her little sister really had no such unkind wish at heart. She was only trying, with her limited stock of words, to say that she longed to have a little sympathy. It was not often that Dotty was willing to be pitied.
"See here, Prudy darling, don't you want a piece of my cough-candy? It's good! You may bite clear down to there, where I've scratched with a pin."
"No, thank you, dear, I don't care a bit for it."
Dotty's face beamed with joyous dimples. It was so pleasant to be generous, and at the same time keep the candy! In her short life Dotty Dimple had not quite learned that "the half is better than the whole."
"Now," said Prudy, after thinking a while, "suppose we play that you're sick,—as you are, you know,—and I'm the doctor."
Dotty gave a little scream of delight.
"You may see my tongue," said she, running to the looking-glass; "it's real rusty. Can't you scrape it with a knife, Brady?"
"You must say doctor, when you speak to me. Now, my dear patient, it's best for you to lie on the lounge, and take medicine in the chest. Poor young lady, we shall be so glad when you get your health all well!—Do you want me to extricate a tooth? Have you any headache, miss?"
Prudy's voice was low and sympathetic. "Yes, Dr. Prudy," replied the patient, with a stifled groan; "I've truly got the ache in my head; it pricks through my hair." "I'll tell you the cause of that, my dear patient; I suspect your pillow's made of pin-feathers. Let me feel your pulse on the back of your hand—your wrist, I mean. Terrible," moaned the young doctor, gazing mournfully at the ceiling; "it's stopped beating. Can't expect your life now. O, no!"
"Now you must put your hands behind you, and walk across the room," suggested Dotty; "that's the way."
"If my memory preserves me right," continued the young doctor, pacing the floor, "you've got the—ahem!—pluribus unum." Here Dr. Prudy ran her fingers through her hair. "But it goes light this year—with care, ma'am, you know. So I'll go and stir you up some pills in my marble mortar."
"O, dear me, doctor; don't you now! Bring me some lemonade and nuts, for I'm drefful sick; but don't bring me no pills nor molters!"
"Poh, only brown bread, Dotty! what do you suppose?"
Upon the whole, Miss Dimple, being petted to her heart's content, had quite a comfortable day of it.
In the evening she asked,—
"Mightn't I eat supper, all alone, in the parlor? Once, when I had the sores all wrinkled out on my face, on my chin and round my eyes, all round, then I ate in the parlor."
Prudy, with her grandmother's consent, carried in a pretty salver, on which were a little Wedgewood teapot with hot water, a tiny sugar-bowl and creamer, a plate, and cup and saucer, some slices of toast, and a glass of jelly.
"Thank you a whole heart-full," said Dotty, springing off the sofa; "that little waiter and so forth is real big enough for me."
Dotty thought "and so forth" meant "cups and saucers." She had heard Norah tell Prudy, when she wished to set the table, that she might put on "the knives and forks, and so forth," and Dotty had noticed that it was always cups and saucers after the knives and forks.
"But, Dr. Prudy, there's one thing you've forgot," said the young patient; "a little tea-bell, so I can tingle it, and call you in."
The bell was brought, and while the rest of the family ate in the dining-room, Dotty took her "white tea" in the parlor, in queenly state.
Prudy had eaten half a thin slice of toast, when the long and sharp ringing of the tea-bell summoned her into the parlor.
"And what would you like, Miss Dimple?" said the remarkably obliging doctor, with a low bow.
"More jelly," replied the patient, holding up the empty glass, "and some squince marmalade."
After obeying this request, Prudy went back to her supper, and had just finished her slice of bread, when the bell struck again.
This time there was "that old spin-wheel in the chimney again,"—so the patient said,—and a book in the what-not wrong side up, looking "as if it would choke."
The book was set right; but the noise in the chimney was too much for the doctor's skill, since neither she nor any one else knew its cause.
Next sounded a furious peal of the bell, and a series of loud screams from the little sick girl. She had been dreadfully stung by a bee, which had buzzed its way out from the fireboard. Strange to tell, there was a swarm of bees in the chimney, instead of "a spin-wheel."
Abner at once mounted to the roof of the house, and peeped into the chimney. A nice, cosy beehive it made, filled to the throat with waxen cells.
Dotty bore her sufferings sweetly, being sustained by the promise of a large box of honey, by and by.
"Bees have a 'sweet, sweet home,' I think," said Susy.
"So do ants when they get in the sugar-box," rejoined Prudy.
As night approached, Dotty showed symptoms of croup.
"I think," said her grandmother, "it will be the safest way to give her some castor-oil and molasses; that is what her father used to take when he was a little boy."
Dotty pouted. "Dirty, slippy castor-oil," she cried, shaking her elbows—a thing she seldom did now. "I shan't let it go in my throat. I'll bite my teeth togedder tight."
"Alice," said her grandmother, "is that the proper way to speak to me?"
The child's face cleared in a moment.
"I wasn't a-speakin' to you, grandma," said she, sweetly; "I was a talkin' to the dust-pan."
"O, Dotty Parlin!" cried Prudy, much distressed. "Nobody ever talked to the dust-pan, in all the days of their lives! I always thought you were a good girl, Dotty, but now I am afraid you tell false fibs!"
Dotty clung about Prudy like a sweet pea, and peeped into her eyes with a pleading look.
"Say, do you love me, Prudy? For I'm goin' to let the oil slip right down my throat, just as my papa did when he was a little boy."
After swallowing the oil and molasses, Dotty grew very affectionate, and kissed everybody twice, all around. Then she said her prayers, and went to bed.
"Mamma," said she, "now smoove me up under my chin, please." She loved to have the sheet laid straight. "Do you s'pose God will take care o' me to-night, mamma?"
"Certainly, my darling; you may be very sure He will. Your heavenly Father never sleeps. He watches over you always."
"Now, truly, does he?" said the child, pressing her flushed cheek against the pillow. "Does he see me in my chubby bed, when the moon's all dark?
"O, my suz!" cried she, suddenly, raising her head; "God can take care o' me most always, you know, but I'm drefful afraid something will catch me while he's 'tending to another man!"
Mrs. Parlin explained to her little daughter, as well as she could, the omnipresence and infinite goodness of God; and while she was still talking, in low, soothing tones, the little one fell asleep.
But about midnight there was a sudden alarm. Lights glanced here and there over the house, and Susy and Prudy were wakened from a deep sleep by the sound of voices. Dotty had a violent attack of croup.
"Put me out doors," gasped the poor little sufferer, when she could speak at all. "I can't breave if the window's ever so up. Get me nearer to the moon. Then I can breave!"
"It's so dreadful!" sobbed Susy. "I feel real sure she's going to die this time."
"O, no, I don't think she will," said Prudy, shaking the tears off her eyelashes. "God took care of me when I had the lameness, and He'll take care of her. He loves her as much as he loves me."
"Now just listen to me," returned Susy, pacing the floor of the green chamber, in her night-dress, while Prudy sat on the edge of the bed. "God loves us all; but that's no sign we can't die! Little children, no older than Dotty, have their breath snatched right away, and are covered up in the ground, with gravestones at their heads and feet. O, you haven't the least idea, Prudy. You never think anything can happen!"
"Well, things don't happen very often, you know, Susy."
"There, Prudy Parlin, don't talk so! I feel just as if Dotty was going to die this very night."
"O, I don't think she will, Susy. But she's God's little girl, and if He wants her up in heaven He has a right to take her. He never'll take her, though, unless it's best, now certainly."
"Sit still, Prudy, just as you are. The moon is shining into the window, on your tears, and it seems as if I could almost see a rainbow in your eyes!—There, it's gone now. What makes you talk so queer about God, Prudy? as if you knew a great deal more than I do?"
"I don't know half as much as you do," replied Prudy; "but I used to lie and think about the Saviour when I had the lameness.—Hark! Is that Dotty laughing? Let's go in and see if she isn't 'most well."
The child was indeed better; but for the next three nights she suffered from severe attacks of the croup. Her sisters had not known how they loved her till she showed her frail side, and they saw how slender was the thread which bound her to earth. When she was strong, and roguish, and wilful, they forgot that she was only a tender flower after all, and might be nipped from the stem any time.
When she was well again, Prudy said to her mother, in confidence, "It didn't kill her, the croup didn't, but it might have killed her; and I'm going to love her all the time as if she was really dead, and gone to heaven."
CHAPTER XI.
BUYING A BROTHER.
"One, two, buckle my slipper! no, my gaiters," repeated Miss Dimple, as Prudy laced her boots. "I wish I was a horse, then my shoes would be nailed on, and be done with it."
"I'm so glad," said Prudy, putting on her hat, "that we can go to housekeeping again."
They had built a shingle palace on the bank of the river. It was as white as chalk could make it, and glared like a snowdrift out of a clump of evergreens which were no taller than dandelions.
"Our house is shaded so much," said Prudy, "that it makes me think of a lady with hair over her eyes."
The entrance to the little palace was through a swinging door, of white cloth, and from the roof fluttered a small flag. There were four rooms in the house, all of them on the ground floor. The parlor was elegantly furnished with a braided carpet, of striped grass, a piano, whose black and white keys were put on with coal and chalk, not to mention other articles of luxury. The table was spread with acorn-cups and poppy teapots, the little housekeepers being advised not to make use of their china dishes for this establishment.
There was a very black stove in the kitchen, but the most of the cooking was done out of doors, farther down the bank, in ovens shaped like swallows' nests. Here were baked delicious mud cakes, tempting currant tarts, and dainty custards.
Nothing pleased Miss Dimple so well as to govern a household. She ruled with a rod of iron.
In the midst of a caution to her servant-maid, Prudy, "not to burn her biscuits as black as so'-leather," she was surprised to see her twinkling off a tear.
"O, Prudy, I didn't mean to scold," said she, in the tenderest tones.
"Poh, as if I minded your make-believe, Dotty! I was only thinking about aunt Madge—that's all."
"What has she done?" asked Dotty as she went on stamping her mud cake with the head of a pin.
"It isn't done yet, Dotty; but it will be. She's going to be married."
Dotty dropped her mud-cake. "Why! who to? Abner?"
"O, dear, no! To Mr.—I mean Colonel—Augustus Allen. Didn't you ever hear of that?"
"Was that why he sent his objections to mamma?" asked Dotty, in a low voice.
"He sent his respects to mother, if that's what you mean; and in the same letter he said, 'Give oceans of love to Prudy.' As if it wasn't bad enough to break my heart, without trying to drown me," murmured Prudy, with dripping eyes.
"I don't see what you're crying for," broke in her little sister. "I shall marry my papa one of these days. I should think you'd feel badder about that. Who's you goin' to marry, Prudy?"
"Nobody, Dotty, as long as I live! I shall stay at home with my mother, and she'll be sitting in the rocking-chair, knitting, and father'll be sitting by the window, reading the paper.—But there," added she, "aunt Madge might be married three or four times, and I wouldn't care. It's her going to New York that makes my heart ache so."
"Well, shell come back bimeby," said Dotty, soothingly.
"O," replied Prudy, with a wise smile; "seems to me when I was four years old I knew a great deal more than you do, child! People that are married stay away always."
"I wish they wouldn't," cried Dotty, beginning to feel alarmed. "I'll ask Colonel 'Gustus to marry Abby Grant after she gets growed, and let my auntie stay at home."
"The worst of it is," continued Prudy, glad of her sister's sympathy, such as it was, "Colonel Allen is a lawyer."
"Well, isn't lawyers as good as white folks?"
"The only trouble with lawyers, Dotty, is, that they can't write so you can read it. My father told me so. He said their writing was like turkey's tracks. He said it looked as if a fly had got into the inkstand, and crawled over the paper."
Dotty's face was the picture of distress.
"It's a drefful thing to grow up a nidiot," said she, drawing her mouth down as she had seen Prudy do when beseeching her to learn the alphabet. "Don't he know all the letters, skippin' about?"
Here aunt Louise's voice was heard, from the piazza. She asked if the children would like to go with her and see Mrs. Gray's baby. After a little washing and brushing they were ready.
"Auntie," said Dotty, as they walked along, "you've got my porkmonnaie."
"Very true; so I have."
"How much money is in my porkmonnaie?"
"Two dollars and a half. Why?"
"'Cause I want to give it to Mr. Colonel Allen, to make him marry Abby Grant when she gets growed. I 'spise her, and I want her to go to New York. There's where the husbands and wives go."
Miss Louise laughed.
"Very well," said she; "you may give the money to 'Mr. Colonel,' and I've no doubt you can persuade him to marry any one you please."
Dotty smiled with entire satisfaction, but Prudy looked inquiringly into her auntie's face, not believing it possible that Colonel Allen would really change his mind for two dollars and a half.
The children went wild over the sleeping baby, Philip Gray.
"He's a brother, isn't he?" said Dotty. "I wish he was mine. I haven't any but Zip. I'd take my kitty out of the carriage, and put in this brother, and give him all my sugar things."
"Well," said Dr. Gray, with a flicker of fun in his eyes, "the baby is not of the least use to me, and if you like him, my dear—"
Dotty danced about the cradle.
"He's nicer than a squir'l catched in a cage. O, he is!"
"That's just as people may fancy," said Dr. Gray. "Now I think, for my part, a squirrel would be less trouble, for he could get his own living."
Dotty peeped into the doctor's face with her bright eyes, to make sure he really liked squirrels better than babies.
"But," continued he, very gravely, "it may be his mother might object to my giving him away. I don't know why it is, but she seems to value him very highly. She would expect some money for him, I think. How much are you willing to pay?"
Dotty reflected. She possessed several dollies, a new tea-set, a box of picture-books, and a red morocco ball. But what would Dr. Gray care for these, or her various other toys? All her money was contained in her portemonnaie, the money which she had meant should put a stop to her aunt Madge's dreadful marriage. Should she save her auntie, and give up the baby? Or should she buy the baby, and leave her auntie to her fate?
The struggle in her mind was a severe one, but it did not last long.
"O," thought she, looking at the little sleeper in the cradle, "I'd rather have him than aunt Madge; for he'll stay to our house, and sleep in my crib."
"How now?" said Dr. Gray, pinching Dotty's cheek; "made up your mind?"
"Yes, sir," replied the child, with her finger in her mouth; "I'm goin' to buy him. I mean, I'm goin' to if I can get him for two dollars and a half."
"A generous sum," laughed the doctor. "Well said. Now, the next thing is, to obtain his mother's consent."
This was very easily done, for Mrs. Gray, who was not strong, and had only a young girl in the kitchen, declared that, dearly as she loved the baby, she found him a deal of trouble.
Dotty's face was radiant; but Prudy, who understood that the whole conversation was merely a playful one, looked down upon her younger sister with a sage smile.
"Don't you think," whispered Dotty, clutching her auntie by the dress, "don't you think we'd better be going?"
"Why, dear, are you tired of your brother so soon?"
"O, I want to get the carriage, you know, and the money to pay him for."
Miss Louise, who knew that her little niece was terribly in earnest, now tried to divert her with pictures; but Dotty was not to be wheedled by any such arts.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Dr. Gray; "we'll keep little Phil for you till he's as tall as a pair of tongs."
Unfortunately there was a fireplace in the room, and Dotty's keen eyes at once espied the tongs, leaning against a brass rester. As quick as a thought she seized them, and laid them in the cradle beside the baby. They were half an inch shorter than Phil—even the doctor was obliged to confess it.
"Bravo! Miss Bright Eyes," said he, catching up Dotty, and whirling her over his shoulder; "you have a shrewd little brain of your own. I see you can be trusted to make your own bargains."
The baby had been for some moments nestling uneasily, and of course was broad awake by this time, screaming lustily, as if to protest against the inhuman proceeding of being bought and sold.
Dotty had just time to see that her "brother" had "nut-blue" eyes, when she was hurried away by her aunt Louise.
For three days the expectant child was kept in suspense by mirthful Dr. Gray, who pretended that he should bring the baby to her some time when she did not expect it. She often rushed into the parlor, saying, "O, I thought I heard somethin' cryin';" and almost cried herself because there was no baby there. "I wish I could stop expecting my brother," said Dotty, sorrowfully, "for then he might come."
But, at last, after her young heart had throbbed again and again with false hopes, she began to see that she had been cruelly deceived. Dr. Gray did not mean, and never had meant, to sell his baby.
"He tells too many fibs," said Dotty, stamping her foot, and looking very much flushed; "he cheated me, he did."
"Now, Susy, do you think it was right to cheat her so?" said Prudy, sorry for Dotty's disappointment.
"I don't know," replied the older sister, hesitating. "Dr. Gray is a real good man. I don't believe he meant to cheat. Father wears paper collars sometimes, and makes believe they are linen; but then, you know, father wouldn't cheat! Dr. Gray was only joking. The trouble is, Dotty is too little to understand jokes. Dr. Gray didn't mean to break his word."
"Well, if he didn't break it, he bent it," replied Prudy, positively.