Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple Part 14

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. "G.o.d 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.

"G.o.d loves us all; but that's no sign we can't die! Little children, no older than Dotty, have their breath s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 G.o.d'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 s.h.i.+ning 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 G.o.d, 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 s.h.i.+ngle 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 gra.s.s, 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?"

"n.o.body, 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, sh.e.l.l 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 was.h.i.+ng and brus.h.i.+ng 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.