Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple Part 4

Mrs. Parlin suggested that Susy should keep on, and tell her aunt Eastman they were coming. Then she allowed Prudy to walk as "zigzag" as she pleased; for Mrs. Parlin had long patience with her children.

"O, mamma," said Prudy, suddenly stopping short, and standing on one foot; "if there isn't a cow!"

"I see, my dear, she is eating the sweet gra.s.s."

"Yes, 'm; but don't its horns flare out like a pitchfork? Do you s'pose he knows how easy he could toss folks right up in the air?"

"I hope my little daughter is not afraid of a gentle cow."

"No, indeed," cried Prudy, clinging fast to her mother's hand. "Poh! if I was afraid of a cow I'd be a cow--ard. I'd as lief he'd see me as not, if you'll shake your parasol at him, mamma."

Prudy breathed more freely when the cow was out of sight.

Soon she saw something which caused her to forget her terror. Peeping in among the branches of a small tree, she espied what she called a "live bird's nest." Never having seen any young birds before, she wondered at first "who had picked off their feathers." The wee things seemed to be left to themselves while their mother was away providing supper.

"Haven't they very big stretchy mouths, for such small birdies?" said Prudy. "Aren't you afraid they'll crack their mouths in two, gaping so, mamma?"

"They are only hungry, child. Suppose you feed them with a bit of a berry."

Prudy nipped a strawberry into three parts with her thumb and forefinger, and dropped the pieces into their mouths.

"O, mamma, they swallowed it whole! they swallowed it whole! Their teeth haven't come!"

Prudy's fresh delight and surprise were so pleasant to witness that her mother allowed her to linger for a while, mincing berries for the nestlings supper.

When, at last, they reached Mrs. Eastman's, Prudy eagerly described the young wonders she had found.

"It was like a story," said she, "of little widow-children,--how the mother was dead, and the children had to stay alone."

"Children are never widows," said Susy, laughing; "it isn't possible!

But if their parents die, they are orphans sometimes."

"That's just what I meant," exclaimed Prudy, looking crestfallen. "I should think you might know what I mean, 'thout laughing at me, either."

Before long Dotty Dimple arrived, in great triumph. She threw her chubby arms about her mother's neck, saying, "Is I your little comfort, mamma?

I camed in the hoss and carriage. S'an't give Prudy no supper--will you?

'Cause Prudy runned away!"

"I should not have allowed this child to come," said Mrs. Parlin, at the tea table; "but cousin Percy always picks up the stray babies, and gives them a ride."

Dotty looked as if she could easily forgive her cousin Percy. But there was one thing that made her nice supper taste like "spoiled nectar," and that was the sight of Prudy enjoying her strawberries and cream.

If she had runned away, as Dotty insisted upon believing, why was she not shut up in the closet? Strange to say, dearly as Dotty loved this kind sister, she enjoyed seeing her punished. She was vexed because Prudy was allowed, after all, to sit at the table with the rest of the family. The little creature was very tired, for she had driven ducks all the long summer day. She was also a little sleepy; and, more than all, it was one of her "temper days," when everything went wrong.

After tea she had a serious quarrel with her little cousin Johnny, over a dead squirrel, which they both tried to feed with sugared water, from a teaspoon.

"Johnny," cried she, "don't you touch his mouf any more! If you do, I s'an't w'ip you, Johnny, but I'll sp'inkle some ashes on your head! Yes, I will."

Johnny, heedless of the threat, tried again to force open Bunny's stiff mouth, Dotty's beautiful eyes blazed.

Without a word she walked off proudly to the kitchen, and came back with a handful of cold ashes, which she freely sifted into Johnny's flaxen hair. Mrs. Parlin saw that it was high time to take her youngest daughter home.

"O, mother," said Prudy, who always felt herself disgraced by her little sister's bad conduct, "sometimes Dotty pretty nearly makes you cry!

Don't you almost wish you hadn't any such little girl?"

"My dear child, I am her _mother_, and she could hardly do anything so naughty that I should cast her out of my heart. When she has these freaks of temper, I think, 'G.o.d bears with me, and I will try to bear with my little one. I will wait. One of these days, when her reason grows, she will be a real blessing to us all.'"

Mrs. Parlin proceeded to put on Dotty's outer wrappings, saying she must be taken home. The child struggled and screamed, and declared she "_would_ be good, she _would_ be a comfort;" but her mother was firm, though her sweet temper never for a moment forsook her. Susy and Prudy looked on, and learned a lesson in patience which was worth twenty lectures.

Percy Eastman was as glad to carry his spirited little cousin back as he had been to bring her to his house. Mrs. Parlin rode too; but Susy and Prudy walked.

When they came to the tree which contained the birds' nest, Prudy parted the branches, but the nestlings were not to be seen; the mother-bird had gathered them under her wings, out of sight.

"Hus.h.!.+" whispered Susy; "hear them peep! Let's go; we'll frighten the old birdie out of her wits."

"I wish you could see them, Susy; then you'd know how cunning they are; and now you never'll know. But it doesn't seem a bit like orphan children since their mother's got home."

"Makes me think of _our_ mamma, and _her_ three little children," said Susy, taking her sister's hand.

"Yes," said Prudy, her face radiant with a glow of love, warm from her heart; "how good our mother always is, and always was, before ever our _reasons_ grew! Think what we'd do this night, Susy Parlin, if there wasn't any _mother_ to our house!"

CHAPTER V.

f.a.n.n.y HARLOW'S PARTY.

"Kiss me, little sister," said Prudy, "and let me go, for I must get ready for the party."

"I know where you're goin'," said Dotty; "why can't I go too?"

Little did innocent Prudy dream of the queer thoughts which were chasing one another in her little sister's brain. After she and Susy had gone, and the house was quite still, Dotty stood at the window, looking down street. It was a lovely day; the clouds were "softer than sleep."

"O, my suz!" said Dotty Dimple; "there they go, way off, way off, Susy and Prudy. Bof of 'em are all gone. n.o.body at home but me. Didn't ask me to her party, f.a.n.n.y Harlow didn't."

Dotty heaved a deep sigh, took her black baby out of its cradle, and shook it with all her might.

"What you lookin' to me for, Phib? I wasn't a 'peakin' to you. I'm goin'

to cover you all up, Phib, so you won't hear me think."

Then Dotty looked out of the window again. "What a good little girl I am," thought she, "not to be a cryin'! Prudy'd cry! There goes the blacksmif's shop." Dotty meant the blacksmith. "His mother lets him go everywhere. Everybody's mother lets 'em go everywhere."

A prettily dressed little girl pa.s.sed the window.

"How do you do, little girl?" whispered Dotty, in a voice so low that even the cat did not hear. "O, what a booful hat you've got! Would your mamma make you wear a _rainy_ dress, like mine? No, she wouldn't. Your mamma lets you go to parties all the days only Sundays. My mamma has sticked me into the nursery, and nothin' but a dar'needle to sew with!

O, hum! And I haven't runned away since forever'n ever! They don't 'low me to run away. Wish f.a.n.n.y Harlow'd asked me to her party. I know why she never! 'Cause she forgot I was born."