Little Prudy Part 12

"Don't _know_? Why, do you think I should have taken you visiting if I hadn't supposed you'd try to be good?"

"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't," said Prudy, with some dignity, "I said 'I don't know,' and when I say that, I mean '_yes_.'"

"Well, I'm sure I hope you'll do the very best you can," sighed aunt Louise, "and not make any body crazy."

By this time they had gone up the nice gravel walk, and aunt Martha had come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embrace them all at once.

"Dear little souls," said she, "come right into the house, and let me take off your things. I've been looking for you these two hours. This is my little nephew, Lonnie Adams.--Shake hands with the little girls, my dear."

Lonnie was a fair-haired, sickly little boy, seven years old. The children very soon felt at ease with him.

It was so pleasant in aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the children took such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they were all sorry when aunt Louise "got nervous," and thought it was time they went off somewhere to play.

"Very well," said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the house and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie."

So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, and at last came to a stand-still in Bridget's chamber over the kitchen, tired enough to sit down a while--all but Prudy, who "didn't have any kind of _tiredness_ about her."

"Look here, Prudy Parlin," said Grace, "you mustn't open that drawer."

"Who owns it?" said Prudy, putting in both hands.

"Why, Bridget does, of course."

"No, she doesn't," said Prudy, "G.o.d owns this drawer, and he's willing I should look into it as long as I'm a mind to."

"Well, I'll tell aunt Louise, you see if I don't. That's the way little Paddy girls act that steal things."

"I ain't a stealer," cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you once, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. _You're_ a Paddy!--O, here's _a ink-stand_!"

"Put it right back," said Susy, "and come away."

"Let me take it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Prudy's hand, "I'm going to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback," said he, jumping up on a stand. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'O yes! O yes! O yes!

Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'"

"Please give it to me," cried Grace; "it isn't yours."

"'Fresh ink, red as a lobster!'"

"This minute!" cried Grace.

"'As green as a pea! Who'll bid? Going! Going!'"

"Now, do give it to me, Lonnie," said Susy, climbing into a chair, and reaching after it; "you ain't fair a bit."

"'Do you say you bid a _bit_? That's a ninepence, ma'am. It's yours; going, gone for a ninepence. Knocked off to Miss Parlin.'"

Somehow, in "knocking it off," out came the stopper, and over went the ink on Susy's fair white ap.r.o.n. Lonnie was dreadfully frightened.

"Don't tell that I did it!" cried he. "You know I didn't mean any harm. Won't you promise not to tell?"

"Yes, I will," said Susy; but she ought not to have promised any such thing.

"O, dear, O dear! What is to be done?"

Little black streams were trickling down the ap.r.o.n on to the dress.

Grace pulled Susy to the was.h.i.+ng-stand, and Prudy thought she meant to lift her into it, and tried to help.

"I guess this honey soap will take it out," said Susy; but with all their was.h.i.+ng and rinsing they could not make black white any more than the poor negro who scoured his face.

"Stop a minute!" cried Grace. "Soap makes it worse--ma puts on milk."

"O dear! I wish we had some," said Susy; "how can we get it?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Grace; "we'll send Prudy down stairs to Bridget, to ask for some milk to drink."

"I like milk and water the best," said Prudy, "with sugar in."

"Well, get that," said Grace, "it's just as good; and come right back with it, and don't tell about the ink."

Aunt Martha and Bridget were taking up the dinner when Prudy went down into the kitchen, calling out,--

"O, Bridget, may I have some white tea?"

"White _tay_!" said Bridget; "and what may that be now?"

"O, some white tea, in a cup, you know, with sugar. They let me have it every little once in a while."

"Milk and water, I suppose," said aunt Martha. "Can't you wait till dinner, my dear?"

"But the girls _can't_ wait," replied Prudy; "they want it now."

"O, it's for the girls, is it?"

"Yes, but when they've washed the ap.r.o.n I can drink the rest--with white sugar in."

"The ap.r.o.n!" said aunt Martha, "_what_ ap.r.o.n?"

"O, nothing but Susy's. I told grandma I'd be good, and I did be good; it wasn't _me_ spilled the ink."

"Ink spilled?" cried aunt Martha, and she stopped beating the turnip.

"O, I ain't goin' to tell!" cried Prudy, beginning to tremble; "I didn't, did I? they won't '_low_ me to tell."

Aunt Louise, pa.s.sing through the kitchen, caught some of the last words, and rushed up stairs, two steps at a time.

"O, Susy Parlin, you naughty, naughty child, what _have_ you been into? Who spilled that ink?"

"It got tipped over," answered Susy, in a fright, but not forgetting her promise.