"At night my mamma comes up stairs,—She comes to hear me say my prayers;And while I'm kneeling on her knee,She always kisses little me."
"At night my mamma comes up stairs,—She comes to hear me say my prayers;And while I'm kneeling on her knee,She always kisses little me."
When it came to the last line the poor child buried her face in the pillow. Papa was good, and grandma was good; but therewas no one like anybody's own mamma, after all.
"'She always kisses little me,'" murmured Dotty. "'Shealwayskisses little me.' She gives me twenty kisses when I go to bed, 'cept when I'm naughty, and then I don't have but ten."
Dotty counted the number of knobs on the bureau drawers, and then went on:—
"I think if I was in my mamma's place, and hadmeto take care of, I'd throw me out of the window; I wouldn't keep such a girl!"
Dotty had great satisfaction in scolding herself when she was all alone. It was a way she had of "doing her own punishing."
Presently, while engaged in the soothing business of calling herself names, she dropped off to sleep. She dreamed of red wherries and "white waves;" but neveronce dreamed that her mother had come, and was bending over the bed, actually "kissing little me."
"Poor thing," said Mrs. Parlin to herself, "if she doesn't have a settled fever I shall be thankful. Will the time ever come when my little daughter will learn to obey her mother?"
Mrs. Parlin stole out of the room very softly; but a sly little rogue, observing that she left the creaking door a little ajar, watched an opportunity, and stole in on her "tipsy toes." It was "wee Katie." Mrs. Parlin had brought her home, to keep her out of the way of Mrs. Clifford, who was still quite ill.
The first thing which roused Dotty to consciousness was a feeling of suffocation. O, was she in the bay? Was she drowning? Something lay very close over her mouth;but it was not water: in fact it was a pillow; and on the pillow sat little Katie with her whole weight. But being a very restless child, it is not likely she would have remained in that position long enough to strangle her cousin, even if Dotty had not thrown up her arms and released herself suddenly.
"Why, Katie Clifford, is that you?"
"Yes, this is me!" replied Katie, with a voice as sweet as a wind-harp. "You didn't knowIwas comin'. You turned your face away: you wouldn't look to me!"
"I s'pose I was asleep, Katie. You didn't mean to sit down on my head,didyou, darling?"
"Yes, I did meant to. But you is sick. Folks mus'n't talk."
"No," replied Dotty, smiling, "when folks are sick they mustn't talk."
"Well," said Katie, putting her finger on her lip, "they is!"
"O, Katie!" cried Dotty, a new idea seizing her, "where's mother? Did she come with you?"
Katie shook her head.
"My dee mamma velly sick."
"Yes, I know; but where'smymamma? Did she come with you in the cars?"
Katie shook her head again.
"Who did come with you, then? You didn't come alone?"
"No, there was folks."
By this time Dotty had sprung out of bed, and was rushing out of the room to learn whether her mother had come. Mrs. Parlin met her at the door.
"My darling child," said she, hugging and kissing her just as tenderly as if she had never been "wherrying." "You'd betterlie down again, and let me bathe your head."
Dotty sprang into bed instantly. She was glad her mother had asked her to do something, so she might prove her desire to obey. She liked the touch of those cool fingers on her forehead.
"O, mamma," said she, "you do make me feel better. It felt a while ago as if they were beating drums in there."
"Is your neck stiff, dear?"
Katie thrust her little prying fingers under Dotty's chin, tickling her, of course.
"No, auntie," said she, "'tisn't any stiff, her neck isn't."
"But it's sore, mother. Not so sore, though, as it was when Jennie Vanee and I got caught in the thunder and lightning."
After she had said this, Dotty blushed, for the words recalled to her mind anotheract of disobedience. No wonder she had thought herself such a naughty girl, fit only to be thrown out of the window!
"What sort of a child has Dotty been since I have been gone?" asked Mrs. Parlin of Mrs. Eastman, as they both sat by the bedside.
Mrs. Eastman stroked the sheet with her white, jewelled hand before she replied. She was thinking how the little girl had turned the house upside down, and, as she believed, made Johnny more mischievous than ever; so she hesitated a moment.
"A tolerably good child."
This was all Mrs. Eastman could say; and it was as much as Mrs. Parlin had dared hope. She knew how Johnny and Dotty encouraged each other in rude behavior. She looked at her beautiful little daughter with pain, and wondered, as she had manytimes wondered before, if these bitter experiences she was suffering would ever have the effect to make her a better child.
Dotty did not understand the tender, regretful glance of her mother's eyes. She was not as yet very well acquainted with the English language, and did not know what "tolerably" meant; she supposed it meant "remarkably."
"It's so queer," she thought, "that auntie should tell my mamma I've been tol'ably good! Why, I haven't, I know I haven't: I've been tol'ably bad!"
She looked up at her auntie in surprise, and at that moment there entered into her small mind a doubt of Mrs. Eastman's truthfulness. It was a very faint doubt, which she did not express even to herself. It was almost incredible that a grown-up lady should tell the "thing which is not," or evencolor the truth by so much as the shadow of a shade. Still, when auntie had called Dotty a tol'ably good girl, she must have known it was a mistake!
Dotty did not have a fever; but for several days she was not at all well, and spent most of the time in her grandmamma's room, on the lounge. It would have been a good opportunity for reflection, if Katie had not been in the house. As it was, Dotty did think of her own conduct for several minutes at a time, during the intervals when Katie was not dancing attendance upon her. She decided never to disobey her mother again, and said so. This, you remember, was nothing new; she had made the same resolve fifty times before, and broken it as often.
Johnny, her little companion in naughtiness, escaped without so much as a sorethroat; but he suffered in another way. His father, learning of his exploit upon the water, and being greatly incensed, punished him severely. It was not often that Johnny was corrected, and this time he was very indignant. He reflected that if it had not been for Dotty Dimple his sin would not have been found out. Dotty had ceased to be a "brick;" she was a tell-tale—a hateful, mean tell-tale; and he wished she would go home and stay there.
"I'll pay her for this business," said Johnny, talking to his boots.
Just how he was going to "pay" his little cousin he did not know. As for being sorry for his disobedience, I doubt if Johnny thought of such a thing. He knew he had been in much peril, and now, while the remembrance of the fright was still fresh in his mind, he was not likely to fallinto the same temptation again—that was all.
Johnny missed his little lively cousin in his out-of-door sports; but he was so angry with her that he scarcely ever went up stairs to see her; and when he did go, amused himself by putting his mouth down to her ear, and crying,—
"E, for shame, Dot Parlin! Fore I'd run and tell!"
But Dotty did not know that her cousin Johnny was harboring such bitter thoughts against her. She had a high temper herself; but anger did not rankle in her heart for days and days, as it did in Johnny's. She was not eager, like him, for revenge.
The Parlins were now making ready to go into their new hired house.
They were all longing for a place they could call "home."
During the few days, while they yet remained at Mrs. Eastman's, very few events occurred which are worth recording. For one thing, Dotty's bird died. She had loved it for its helplessness; but Angeline said,—
"You needn't be sorry. What did I tell you when you took that bird into the window? I knew something would happen; but didn't know as it would be a boat-wreck exactly."
Dotty, and even Prudy, had received some very foolish ideas from Angeline. The Portland fire had affected the Parlin family in more ways than one; and it would be long before the three little girls would settle into their usual quiet habits again.
"Prudy," said Dotty, "you needn't say that word 'wherrying' to me any more. Mamma said there mus'n't anybody tease me about that, because I've—I've repented it all up."
"O, I'm so glad!" replied Prudy.
"I'll never take another bird into the window," continued Dotty; "it's almost as bad as a ghost."
"You never saw a ghost, Dotty. Nobody ever did."
"Yes, indeed; Angeline has seen 'em as thick as spatter! They come when you're asleep, and there don't anybody know it.I shouldn't dare open my eyes in the night. They're wrapped in a sheet, all white, and their eyes snap like fire. Angeline says they do."
"I don't believe it," said Prudy, stoutly; "my mother told me 'twasn't true."
"P'r'aps mamma doesn't wake up in the night," said Dotty, "and p'r'aps the ghosts never come where she is. Why, Prudy, they're made out o' nothing! If you stick a knife into 'em it goes right through, and don't touch their blood, for they haven't got any blood. They don't care for knives—they're just like bubbles."
"I don't believe it," replied Prudy, again. "I think it's wicked. My mother wouldn't like it if she knew how much you sat in Angeline's lap and talked about ghosts.Idon't want to see any or hear any."
"I do, though!" cried Dotty. "I shouldn'tbe afraid—the leastest speck. I'd go right up to 'em, and, said I, 'How do you do, sir?' And then they would melt like a wink. It blows 'em right out the moment you speak."
"Does it, though?" said Johnny, who had been listening at the door. "You don't say so! Call me when you see your ghostses, and let me talk to 'em too."
"Andme!Whatisum?" said wee Katie, toddling in with her mouth full of candy.
"There, there!" cried Dotty Dimple, "you've been a-listening, Johnny Eastman."
"Don't care! 'Tisn't so bad as being a tell-tale, Miss!" said Johnny, ending the sentence in a naughty tone.
"Why, Johnny, you mus'n't say that!"
"Why, Johnny," echoed Katie, "youmussersaythat!"
"Say what?"
"SayMiss."
The children all laughed at this.
"Come, little ones," said Mr. Parlin, appearing at the door, "put on your hats; we are ready to start."
Prudy clapped her hands—an action which cousin Percy did not consider very polite.
"It shows," said he, "how glad you are to leave us."
"O, but we are goinghome, you know, Percy! Only think of having a home to go to!"
"It isn't the burnt one, though," remarked Dotty, as she danced off the door-step; "and I 'spect I'll never see that darling little tea-set any more."
The new house was not in the least like the old one. Susy was always bewailingthe contrast. She did not like the wallpaper; the carpets were homely; the rooms were, some of them, too large, and the door-yard, certainly, too small.
"But it's better than nothing," said Prudy, who, for one, was heartily tired of visiting.
"I think," said Mrs. Parlin, smiling, "this is a very good opportunity for my little daughters to learn to make the best of everything. We cannot have the old house, so we will try not to long for it. We never wish for the moon, you know."
"Katie does," laughed Susy.
"We cannot have the old home again, so we will make the new one as happy as we can. Isn't that the best way?"
"Of course it is, mamma," replied all the children.
"'Course, indeed, it is!" said Katie, trying to pull up the carpet in her search for a lost three-cent piece.
"I'm glad father's dressing-gown and slippers didn't get scorched," said Prudy; "and the piano sounds as sweetly as ever it did. It sounds to me just as if there was a family in there, living inside."
"Like what?"
"O, you know there are four parts playing at once, and it seems as if it was a man and his wife, and two children, all singing together!"
"I'm glad we brought so many flowers from aunt Eastman's," said Susy, brightening; "now we'll trim all the rooms."
"That is right," said Mrs. Parlin. "This is the first night in the new house: let us make it as cheerful as we can for dear papa. Susy, you may as well practise that new tune he likes so well."
"O, mamma," said Prudy, "I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll make some vinegar candy!—if you'll boil it, you know, and pull it."
"A very brilliant idea, my daughter. Your part will be the looking on, I suppose."
"And what'llIdo?" queried Dotty, twisting the inevitable lock of front hair; "if papa would only give me some money, I'd go and buy him a present."
"The wisest thing you can do just now, dear, is to wash that berry-stain off your lips; then you may bring me a fresh ruffle to baste in the neck of this dress."
Dotty obeyed at once. She was always glad to wear that white delaine with the scarlet spots.
The whole family were so very busyduring the afternoon, that they forgot to feel any regrets for the old home. The furniture had been brought and arranged some time before, and the most Mrs. Parlin expected to do to-day was to make the house as pleasant as possible. Susy was allowed to attend to the flowers; the three others looked on, and watched Mrs. Parlin, while she made vinegar candy, filled some tarts with jelly, and helped Norah set the supper-table.
"How nice!" said Prudy, rubbing her hands. "Sometimes I don't much care if our house was burnt up."
"Nor I either," said Dotty. "This house has got a good deal the best places to hide in."
Mrs. Parlin smiled, in her sweet, contented way. She was thinking how many blessings we can all find in our lot if weonly look for them. Not that she would ever have known about the "nice places to hide in" if the children had not mentioned them.
"Dotty," said she, "you may run up and ask grandmother if she will dare drink any coffee to-night."
Prudy and Dotty tripped up the broad staircase, which wound about so much that Prudy said it twisted her like a string. Katie ran after them, catching her breath.
There sat the dear grandmamma, knitting some winter stockings for Prudy. There were no curtains at the windows, and the August sunshine fell on her calm face, bathing it with warm light. The carpet had not been put down yet, and the children's feet made a hollow sound on the bare floor.
"Why, grandma," said Prudy, "itwouldn't be nice here a bit, only the room has gotyouin it!"
"Bless thy little heart, Prudence! It will be nice enough here to-morrow night. I wouldn't have thy mother touch it to-day."
"I've got a gamma to my house," said Katie, passing her little fingers over Mrs. Read's white kerchief; "but um don't have hang-fiss on um neck."
"Yes," said Mrs. Read, in reply to the children's question, "tell your mother I will take some coffee to-night, and she is very kind to inquire."
On the whole, the supper that evening was quite a success. Mr. Parlin had come home from business, tired and sad. It was not pleasant for him to turn his steps towards that part of the town: he missed his old home more than ever. But whenhe entered the strange house, the lonely look left his face; for there in the hall stood his wife and children, awaiting him with smiles of welcome.
"O, papa!" said Dotty, springing into his arms, while her sisters seized him by the coat-sleeves, "you ought to have a birthday to-night, we've got such a splendid supper!"
"Sthop!" cried Katie. "I's talking. Cake, and verjerves, and f'owers, and butter!"
"And Susy's been practising the 'Blue Violet's Carol,'" said Prudy.
"Yes, her packus, uncle Ed'ard!"
"And I'll read the paper to you if your eyes ache," went on Prudy; "and we are going to be just as happy, papa!"
"An' vindegar canny," struck in Katie.
"O, hush, now!" whispered Dotty, covering the child's mouth with her handkerchief.
The whole house was fragrant with flowers, and had such a festive appearance, that Mr. Parlin kept exclaiming, "Ah, indeed!" and stroking his beard. Prudy said she always knew when papa was pleased, for then he always "patted his whiskers."
The table was very attractive, and everybody had a fine appetite. After Mr. Parlin had drank a cup of delicious coffee, he no longer remembered that he was tired. He looked upon the merry group around him, and said to his wife,—
"I see, my dear, you are disposed to make the best of our misfortunes. But, after all, you are not quite as meek as one old lady I heard of once."
"Please tell it, if it's a story, papa," said the children.
"Not much of a story; only there were two old women who lived by themselves, and were so very poor that they had nothing in the world to eat but potatoes and salt. One day a friend went to see them, and when he sat down to their humble meal of roasted potatoes, he was moved with pity, and told them he was very sorry to see them so poor.
"Then one of the old ladies rolled up her eyes, and said, 'I was just a-thinkin', neighbor, that this meal is altogether too good for us, we'resounworthy! I only wish the potatoes was froze!'"
The children laughed.
"But I shouldn't like that old lady, though. I know how she looked: it was just this way," said Prudy, drawing down her mouth, and looking cross-eyed.
"She didn't want the potatoes frozed,"added Dotty; "for if she did, she might have laid 'em out doors all night, and they'd have freezed as hard as a stick."
Grandma Read had a thought just then, though she did not express it. She was thinking what a contrast this cheerful family presented to another "burnt-out" family, who had this very day moved into a house across the street. The mother she had seen from the window, and she looked perfectly discouraged. The children were fretful, and it seemed as if they were all trying, with one accord, to see which could do most to make the new home disagreeable.
"I should say they freeze their potatoes," thought Mrs. Read.
She meant that, instead of trying to improve matters, they only made them worse.
After supper, just as the Parlins weresitting down for a quiet evening, the door-bell rang furiously, and shook for a minute afterwards, as if it were in an ague-fit. Who had come to break up the family harmony?
I will tell you in the next chapter.
Norah went to the door, hardly expecting to find any one there; for when the bell pealed in that violent manner, it was often some roguish boy who rang it, and then ran away. But this time, to her amazement, there stood on the door-step and in the yard as many as twenty boys and girls.
"Is Miss Susy Parlin at home?" said one of them.
"And Miss Prudy?" added another.
"She is—I mean they are. Will you please walk in?"
As Norah spoke, she swung open theparlor door, too much "fluttered," as she afterwards said, to announce the arrival in due form. The guests poured in with all speed. Susy sprang up as suddenly as if the piano stool were exploding; but what to say she did not know, and stood still in dumb surprise. Prudy caught her by the skirts, and whispered, "Good evening;" but nobody heard it. Dotty Dimple, not in the least abashed, was about to do the honors, when Mr. and Mrs. Parlin came forward, and relieved her of the trouble. They greeted the little people very cordially, and gave them a pleasant welcome to the new house. Then Mrs. Parlin directed her daughters to carry away the hats and sacques of the young misses; and by the time this ceremony was over, the stiffness had somewhat worn away, and Susy and Prudy could breathe more freely.
Flyaway went up first to one, and then to another, with the question,—
"Did youcameto seeme?"
The two heads of the family retreated, Mr. Parlin saying to his wife as they went,—
"When you and I were children, we had our parties in the afternoon; but this is a new fashion, I suppose."
"It is the first time our little girls have ever received company in the evening," replied Mrs. Parlin. "I do hope these children will not stay late. It happens that I have made a large quantity of vinegar candy, but not enough, I think, for the whole company."
"Very well," said Mr. Parlin; "and now, as the little people seem to be doing very nicely, suppose we go out for a walk, and call at a confectioner's on our way home."
Susy felt very much flattered by this surprise party. It gave her an assurance that she was held in kind remembrance by her schoolmates, many of whom had been "burnt out," and knew exactly how to sympathize with her.
But Susy's satisfaction was by no means complete. In the first place, Katie would not go to bed, and could not be persuaded to leave the room any longer than just to bring in her ragged black Dinah, and the yellow-and-white kitten.
Dinah was passed around the room to be pitied. There was a mustard plaster on her chest, applied that day by Dotty, in order to break up a lung fever. Dinah's ankle, which was really broken, had been "set" and mended with a splinter, and was waiting for a new bone to grow. Percy Eastman, the oldest boy present, said,—
"Well, cousin Dimple, you and Flyaway do take extra care of Miss Dinah! If you should lose her, you can't have anything to reflect upon."
Susy did not so much mind the laughter at Dinah's expense; for, although such a hideous black baby was not suitable for genteel society, still it was Katie who was exhibiting it, and Katie was pardonable for the weakness. The trying question was, What would the child do next? There was nothing certain about Flyaway except her uncertainty. Susy was about to appeal to her mother to take the little one away, when she heard the hall door open and shut; her father and mother had gone out for their walk.
It did occur to Susy that this was a great pity; and, indeed, it is quite probable, Mrs. Parlin would not have left thehouse if she could have foreseen how much her presence would be needed.
And after all it was Dotty Dimple, and not Flyaway, who made the whole trouble. Flyaway was under every one's feet, it is true, and sat down in the middle of the floor to comb and brush the kitty's head; but then she never for a moment lost her temper: it was Dotty, the girl old enough to know better, who was cross and disagreeable.
I am sorry to record this of Dotty, and so I will try to make a little excuse for her. She was not well. She had hardly felt like herself since that unfortunate boat-ride. She was sleepy and tired, and ought to have gone to bed at eight o'clock—the usual hour. Then, again, the guests were nearly all older than herself, and paid very little attention to her. She thought shemight as well have worn her calico wrapper as this beautiful white delaine, for all the notice they took of her dress.
There was only one child present of Dotty's own age,—Johnny Eastman,—and if he would only have played cat's cradle with her, all might have gone well. But Johnny had not forgotten the severe correction his father had given him in the stable with a horsewhip. Every time he looked at his little cousin, the thought arose,—
"She was real mean to run and tell! I'll pay her for that—won't I, though?"
Percy had promised to aid him in his revenge; and you will presently learn what this was to be. Percy liked "cousin Dimple" very well; he was only putting a wicked scheme into his little brother's head "just for the fun of the thing."
The guests were talking of having a few tableaux and charades, like some they had seen arranged by their older sisters.
"I don't care anything about their old tolly-blows—do you, Johnny?" said Dotty. "Let's play 'I spy'—you and I."
"No, you don't catch me playing high spy with such a cross party as you are, Dot Dimple."
"I wish you'd stop calling me a 'cross party' the whole time, Johnny Eastman," replied Dotty, shaking her elbows.
Just then Susy came, and whispered a few words in her ear.
"No, I won't be hung! I'm sure I won't be hung!" cried Dotty, who was by this time very much out of sorts.
"O, Dotty! what makes you act so? We've got a charade, 'Crisis.' Half of us are going to play it for the other half toguess. We only want to weigh you, with a yardstick through an old shawl; that's all. Come, let us pin you up; there's a goody girl."
"I don't want to be a goody girl. I'm too big to be goody. If you want a baby to make believe with, why don't you take Flyaway? She's littler than me."
"There, there!" said Prudy, coming to the rescue, "you needn't do a single thing, Dotty, if you don't want to. We didn't know but you'd like to play be weighed, you can squeal so be-you-tifully!"
"I know I can squeal just like a rubber doll; but s'posin' they should let me fall off the yardstick—where'd I go to then?"
"O, but they wouldn't!"
"Of course they would, Prudy Parlin. And I should fall right into the tolly-blow—that's where I should fall to."
"O, pshaw!" exclaimed Percy, coming into the corner where his cousins stood; "if cousin Dimple has got into one of her contrary fits, it's of no use teasing. You might as well try to move the side of the house."
This cutting speech was all that was needed to complete Dotty's ill humor. Did she remember any longer her promise not to get angry, but to swallow her temper right down? No, indeed; she forgot everything but her own self-will.
"Don't you speak again, Percy, or I'll scream my throat right in two!"
"Girls, I advise you to let that child alone," said her cousin, with a look of supreme contempt. "Let's try Flyaway; she's a little darling. Here, Flyaway, are'n't you willing to be pinned up in a shawl if we'll give you a whole cent?"
"Course, indeed, so!" replied the little one, tossing her kitten across a chair, and into the fireplace. "But you mus' gi' me mucher'n that! Gi' me hunnerd cents!"
No answer was made to this, except to dress the child in a ruffled cap and long clothes, and pin her into a plaid shawl.
"Now cry," said Percy; "cry just as if you had soap in your eyes."
"Ee! Ee!" wailed Katie, loudly.
"No, cryweak; cry just as you did when you were a baby."
"I don't 'member when I was a baby, 'twas somanyyears ago," sighed Flyaway.
But she practised crying again, and succeeded very well, Dotty all the while looking on in grim displeasure.
Susy was the mamma; and when the folding-doors opened upon the scene "Cry,"she was sitting in a rocking-chair, admiring her child, a remarkably well-grown baby, two months old.
"Just the image of his papa, Mrs. Pettibone!" cried Florence Eastman, rushing in, in the character of an old lady, her head adorned with a scoop bonnet. "Let me look at the precious little creature! Yes, just the image of his papa! I said so before I ever set eyes on him. He's two months of age, you say, and how many teeth?"
"She is a girl," replied Mrs. Susy, kissing the big bundle, "and weighs twenty-nine pounds, three inches."
Susy meant "ounces."
Then followed a chat between herself and a few little old ladies concerning catnip and "pep'mint" tea; after which the wonderful baby was held up by the yardstick to be weighed.
Flyaway had not expected to be suspended so high in the air. She forgot the baby-like cry she had been practising, and screamed out in terror,—
"I wish I didn't be to Portland! O, I wish I didn't be to Portland!"
As this was a very long speech for a baby two months old, the audience were taken by surprise, and laughed heartily. Poor little Flyaway was lifted out of the shawl, and kissed over and over again. She had not played properly, it is true, but she had intended to do right, and was applauded for her good intentions.
Dotty saw and heard the whole. She was sorry she had refused the part, and she put her fingers in her mouth, and sulked, because little Flyaway had been stealing the praise she might have received herself.
After both syllables of the charade had been acted and guessed, then the other half of the company took their turn, and attempted to arrange a tableau. There was a deal of confusion. No one knew exactly what ought to be done. They were to have a Goddess of Liberty, and finally decided to dress her in an embroidered window curtain, with a shield on her breast made of a blue box cover, striped with yellow silk. Dotty was selected as goddess, on account of her superior beauty.
"But my mamma never 'lows me to wear window curtains, and I sha'n't be a tolly-blow 'thout I can wear my white dress with red spots, and a big bosom-pin in!"
"And a shaker," suggested one of the girls. "I didn't know before that Susy Parlin had such a bad sister."
This was too much. Dotty's head wason fire. She caught the girl by the shoulder, and shook her as if she had been a breadth of dusty carpeting; then ran away.
Which way she went she did not heed, and never stopped till she came to a dark pantry, which had been made without any windows, on purpose to keep out flies. The unhappy child threw herself, out of breath, upon the floor of this closet, her heart beating high with rage and shame.
Dotty's cross behavior had entirely spoiled the pleasure of the evening for her two sisters. They felt, as they had felt years before, when they saw her, a mere baby, perched upon the wood-box, with her hands and feet tied—they felt that it was a family disgrace.
All these little boys and girls, who had never known before what Dotty's temper was, knew all about it now; they would talk of it to one another; they would go home and tell of it, and remember it forever and ever.
"And, O dear!" thought Susy, "theywon't know she was born so, and can't help it."
For that this was the case, Susy firmly believed.
"I've got it written in my journal," thought Prudy, "how she promised to swallow it down; but Dotty isn't well, and that's the reason she can't remember."
Both the sisters knew that Dotty had left the parlors, and they were very glad of it. They did not attempt to follow her. They did not know precisely where she had gone, but presumed she was pouting somewhere. That there could be danger of any sort for the poor child in that house they never dreamed. Neither did Mr. or Mrs. Parlin dream it, or they would have walked home a little faster from their visit to the white tents on Green Street.
The games went on as usual, and werequite as amusing to the guests as if they had not been very poor ones indeed. Susy and Prudy need not have feared that the little people would not have a good time; the "surprise party" was a perfect success, and Dotty's ill-humor made no one unhappy but her sensitive sisters. Meanwhile the wretched child was lying on the pantry floor, thinking very confused thoughts.
"I wish I was dead. No I don't. I'm too wicked. But I wasn't any wickeder 'n that girl. She said Susy Parlin had a bad sister. What made her say that? She knew I'd hear. I'm glad I shook her. No, I'm sorry. It was murder—the Bible says so. Johnny murdered too—murdered me. He called me a 'cross party.' That was a story. Johnny's wickeder 'n everIwas.
"Prudy thought I ought to be a baby. Percy thought so. He said, 'I devise youto let that child alone.' I'm going to lethimalone! All the time! Did I want to fall off that yardstick, right into the tolly-blow?
"There's Prudy: she can be good; it doesn't hurt her. It hurtsmeto be good; it tires me all up.
"And here it is, as dark as a pickpocket." (Dotty raised her head and took a survey.) "Why, the moon can't get here, nor the sun. Is this down cellar? No, I didn't see any stairs. Where did I go to when I came? I walked right on the floor. What floor? Was it the dining-room, or was it out doors? I didn't look at it to see.
"This is a 'cuddy.' There's ever so many 'cuddies' in this house to hide in. I've gone and hid. Nobody'll ever find me. My father'll say, 'Why, where's that child?' And my mother'll say, 'I don't know.' Andthey'll hunt all over the house; and I shall keep my head in my apron, and won't say a word.
"Then Prudy'll say, 'O, my darling sister Dotty! How sweet and good she was!'
"And they'll think I'm dead! And Susy'll cry out loud, and tell Percy, and he'll say, 'O, how sorry I am I said "I devise you to let that child alone"!'"
Dotty sighed as she pictured to herself Percy's conscience-stricken face.
"And that girl that called me a bad sister—howshe'llfeel! And Johnny—I guess Johnny won't say 'cross party' any more!
"Grandma—why, grandma'll read the Bible. And O, such a time!
"That Angeline girl will remember how she rocked that darling Dotty, and told me stories."
Dotty was seized with a sudden shivering.The stories came back to her mind vividly. If Angeline had told her simple little tales of every-day life, Dotty might have forgotten them; but, like all children, she had an active imagination, and anything marvellous or horrible made a deep impression.
The current of her thoughts was changed as soon as she remembered those unknown ghosts of Angeline's description.
"All white, wrapped in a sheet. Put a knife through, and they don't know it. No blood, no bones, no anything. Go through a keyhole. Will they, though? Prudy don't believe it. Am I anywhere near a keyhole? I don't know. I've gone and hid, and I can't find myself. I'm somewhere, but I don't know where."
Dotty began to feel very uncomfortable. There was no longer the slightest satisfaction in the thought of frightening the family.She was frightened herself, and with the worst kind of fear—the fear of the supernatural.
"I can't see the leastest thing, and I can't hear anything, either. Ghosts don't make any noise. May be there are some in this house: been locked up, and the man didn't know it."
The silence seemed to grow deeper. Dotty could hear her heart beat.
"My heart thumps like a mouse in the wall. I'm going to get out of this place. I feel as if there's a ghost in here. It creeps all over me. I can't get my breath."
Dotty rose cautiously; but she had been lying so long in a cramped position that both her feet were asleep. While trying to recover her balance she caught at something, which proved to be a glass jar of raspberry jam. The cover came off, andthe jam poured down her neck in a thick stream.
"My beautiful white dress with the red spots! Who put that dirty thing in my way? Smells like purserves. They ought to be ashamed!"
Dotty tried bearing her weight on both feet, and found she could walk.
"But I've whirled round three or four times. I didn't ever know which way to go, and now I'm sure I don't know so well as I did in the first place. If I step any more, perhaps I'll step into some molasses."
Dotty's meditations were becoming more confused than ever. Now it was not only ghosts, but jam and jelly which went to make up the terrors of the situation. But she was growing desperate. She groped right and left, saying to herself,—
"Where's theout?"
At last she came to the door, which she had unconsciously closed when she entered the pantry. She opened it, and her eyes were greeted with light. It was the moon shining in at the kitchen windows.
Her fears vanished. She was just wondering whether to return to the parlor in a forgiving spirit, or to stay away and make everybody unhappy, when a strange, horrible object met her view,—not white, but yellow.
Was it—was it—a truly, trulyghost?O, it must be a ghost on fire! It hadn't any sheet round it. Nothing was to be seen but a hideous head peeping in at the window. No man ever looked like that. No man ever had such a mouth. It was as deep as a cave, and all ablaze. Somebody had gone and swallowed a stove; somebody had come to do—do—O, what had he come to do?
"It's a yellow ghost!" thought Dotty. "I didn't know they had such a kind. Angeline never said so. But its eyes are just like her ghosts' eyes—going to burn you up!"
These thoughts darted through Dotty's mind like lightning-flashes. At the same time she gave one loud, terrified scream, and fell forward upon the floor. She did not rise, she did not speak, she seemed scarcely to breathe. The shock had partially stunned her.
"Why, Dotty—Dotty Dimple!" exclaimed Percy, rushing in at the back door, and seizing his little cousin by the shoulders. "Look up here, darling! 'Twas nobody but me!"
No answer.
"Nobody but me and Percy," said Johnny, pulling Dotty's ears to attract her attention.
"Only a jack-o'-lantern, you dear little ducky," cried Percy.
"A pumpkin, you goosie," said Johnny.
No reply, but a sudden choking, followed by convulsive sobs. Whether the child heard and understood what was said to her, Percy could not determine. He was old enough to know that a sudden and powerful shock is always more or less dangerous. He redoubled his efforts.
"Look, dear, here's the pumpkin. Holes cut out for eyes. A gash for the mouth. A candle stuck in."
"Smart girl!" ejaculated Johnny, who was too young and ignorant to see anything but amusement in the whole affair. "Smart girl, scared of a pumpkin!"
"Johnny was angry with you," went on Percy, rather nervously; "he said he wanted to tease you. I brought the pumpkin fromour house. I'm sorry. Look up, Dimple, see what it is! Don't be afraid. Laugh, or if you can't laugh, cry. Here's my handkerchief."
Dotty continued to moan.
Percy caught her up in his arms. "Any pump in the house? Johnny, get some water somewhere, quick! and then run for the camphor bottle."
Percy was at his wit's end. He ran round and round, with the little girl in his arms. She had life enough to cling to his neck. Johnny saw a pail of water, dipped a tea-strainer into it, and dashed two drops in Dotty's face.
"That won't do, boy! Throw on a quartful! Hurry!"
Johnny promptly obeyed. Dotty gasped for breath, and uttered a scream. Percy felt encouraged.
"More, Johnny; the whole pailful. We'll have her out of this double-quick—"
Just as Percy had extended his little cousin on the floor, and Johnny had poured enough water over her to soak every thread of her clothing, there was a sound of foot-steps. Mr. and Mrs. Parlin were coming in at the back door.
"What does this mean?" they both exclaimed, very much alarmed, as might have been expected. There lay their little daughter, screaming and gurgling, her mouth full of water, her dress stained with the raspberry jam, which was easily mistaken for blood.
"Why, uncle Edward," stammered Percy, "'twas a—"
"Why, auntie," cried Johnny, "'twas only a pumpkin. She went and was afraid of a pumpkin!"
The cause of this direful affright, thelighted jack-o'-lantern, was lying face upward on the floor, the candle within it smoking and dripping with tallow. One glance explained the whole mystery.
But by this time there seemed to be no further cause for anxiety with regard to Dotty. She gathered herself together, sat upright, and began to scold.
"'Twas blazing a-fire, mamma. He lighted it to plague me—Johnny did."
"I'm ever so sorry, auntie," said Percy, and his regretful face said as much as his words.
"Johnny scared me to death," broke in Dotty; "and then he pumped water on me all over—Johnny did."
"I'll never do so again," said Percy, shamed by the look of reproach in his uncle's face.
"See that you remember your promise,my boy. You have run a great risk to-night."
No one supposed, at the time, that Dotty had received a serious injury; but she did not sleep off the effects of her fright. She was remarkably pale next morning, and declined her breakfast. She had not been well for some time, but she had not trembled as now at the opening and shutting of a door. It was plain that her nerves had been quite unstrung.
Days passed, and still she did not seem quite like herself. Her father told the family physician she was not well, and asked what it was best to do with her. The doctor said he thought she only needed time enough, and she would recover her "tone."
"I have an idea," said Mr. Parlin to his wife some days after this. "If you approve, I believe I'll take the child West with me,next time I go there on business. I took Prudy once, and it is no more than fair that the other children should have their turn."
"We will see," said Mrs. Parlin; and so it was left. The subject was never mentioned before Dotty; but here is what Prudy said of it in her journal:—