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.



CHAPTER XII.

A WEDDING.

"I shan't buy any more brothers as long as I live—now you see if I do," said Dotty Dimple, with quivering lips.

"Come here, little one, and sit on my knee," said Colonel Augustus Allen. "Can't you think of something next as good as a baby brother? How would you fancy a grown-up uncle!"

Dotty looked wonderingly into Colonel Allen's face.

"Who's got any to sell?" said she.

"Possibly the minister may have," said Colonel Allen, laughing. "You wait till this evening, and very likely he may be here. Then you can go up to him and say, 'Please, Mr. Hayden, will you sell me an uncle?'"

"But he'll cheat me—he will," said Dotty, shaking her finger.

"O, no, never fear. Just try him, and see. Here's a sealed envelope which Susy may keep for you till night."

"And shan't I have to spend the money in my porkmonnaie?"

"Not a cent of it, chickie."

Something was going on which was called a wedding; though what a wedding might be, Miss Dimple had no idea, having never attended one in all her life. But it was something remarkable, no doubt, for the parlors ware glowing with flowers, and everybody was in a flutter. The three children, dressed in their very best, were allowed to sit up for the whole evening, or, at any rate, as long as they pleased.

It was as lovely out of doors as "a Lapland night." The full moon and the gay lamplight tried to outshine one another.

"Do look at that great moon dripping down the juniper tree," cried Prudy, growing poetical as she gazed. "Let me tell you, Susy, when the moon is young and little, it makes me think of a smile, and when it's a grown-up, full moon, it makes me think of a laugh."

Just as Dotty was beginning to wonder whether she felt sleepy or not, the door-bell rang; and after that it kept ringing every few minutes for an hour. By that time the fragrant parlors were almost filled with guests. Everybody had a few kind words for the children, and Prudy listened and answered with timid blushes: but Dotty Dimple was, as usual, very fearless, and perfectly at ease.

Presently Colonel Allen, and Miss Margaret, and Miss Louise entered the room. Dotty had been wondering where they were.

"Now," whispered aunt Louise, "now's the time to ask Mr. Hayden for that new uncle."

Dotty stepped briskly up to the minister.

"Here's a letter for you," said she, "and it says, 'Will you please sell me an uncle, sir?'"

Mr. Hayden smiled, and asked the little maiden what sort of an uncle she would like.

"A new one," she replied, bending her head one side, and peeping up in his face like a tame canary, "and a soldier, too, if you've got any to sell."

Mr. Hayden said he certainly had, and laughed when he spoke, though Dotty could not imagine why. Dr. Gray took her up in his arms, and declared he would like to carry her home in his pocket. Such an idea! And Dr. Gray was the man who had cheated her! When he set her down again she stood on her dignity, and carried her head like a queen.

She had hardly crossed the room, and taken her station beside Prudy, when a hush fell upon the company. Dotty was inclined to think people had paused in conversation to watch her. Colonel Allen and aunt Madge were standing together, and Mr. Hayden in front of them. The guests were looking at them, not at Miss Dotty Dimple!

Mr. Hayden began to talk very solemnly—almost like preaching. No one else spoke; no one smiled. Before Dotty could ask what they were doing, Mr. Hayden was praying; and after the prayer, which was so hearty and simple that Dotty could almost understand it, the whole room was in motion again. Everybody seemed suddenly bent on kissing aunt Madge, though what that young lady had been doing which was better than usual Dotty could not exactly make out. But this, she concluded, was in some way connected with the entertainment called a wedding.

"Come, now, little lady," said Mr. Hayden, taking Dotty's hand, and leading her up to Colonel Allen, "here is the uncle you have bought. He is new, and a soldier too. So you see I have done my best for you."

"That?" said Dotty, pointing her index-finger at the bridegroom in surprise. "I know him; he isn't new. He is Mr. Colonel. He isn't my uncle a bit, sir."

"True, he was not, five minutes ago, Miss Dimple; but the few little words you heard me say to him have made a wonderful change. He is now your uncle Augustus, and your aunt Margaret is Mrs. Allen."

Dotty looked up bewildered. Her newly-married aunt was engaged in talking to the guests; but Colonel Allen was gazing down upon his new niece with an arch smile.

"The minister did not cheat you, you see?" said he. "He has really given you what he promised."

"I didn't want you to marry my good auntie," was all Dotty's answer.

"Ah, my dear, that is very sad! I was not aware that you had any dislike for me."

"O, I love you," exclaimed Dotty, "'cause you carry me pickaback; but I wish you knew your letters skippin' about!"

The minister and the bridegroom smiled at this absurd little speech, and it was repeated to everybody in the room. Prudy felt very guilty, and blushed like a damask rose, for she knew where Dotty had caught the idea of Colonel Allen's extreme ignorance.

"I am very sorry, little Miss Dimple, that you object to me," said the new uncle; "but by and by you and I will take the big dictionary, and you may point out the letters to me. I think you will find I know them 'skippin' about.' Is there anything else you have against me?"

"Yes, sir," replied the child, earnestly; "you're a lawyer—my father says so. You wrote to him once."

"Did I? What did I write?"

"A letter."

"And where was the harm in that?"

"O, it looked like turkeys' tracks—he said it did. You wrote the letter with a fly. You dipped him in the inkstand, and stuck him on a pin, and wrote with him. My father says so."

"You surprise me, Dotty. I really don't remember it. Have you any other reason for not wishing me to be your uncle?"

"I wanted you to marry somebody else."

"Indeed! You ought to have mentioned it before! What young lady had you chosen for me, Miss Dimple?"

"Abby Grant, the little girl that went behind the tree and let me lose myself. I'd as lief she'd go to New York as not. If you'd only waited for her she'd have growed up."

By this time Mrs. Parlin, though somewhat amused by her little daughter's sharp speeches, thought it best to put an end to them by taking her away into a corner. She was too much inclined to pertness.

The evening was very delightful; but like everything else in this world it could not last always. After the guests had departed, and before the doors were closed or the lights put out, the three tired children slowly wound their way up stairs.

"I'm glad it's over and done," said Prudy, resignedly. "I've cried just all I'm going to."

"I only wish Grace Clifford had been here," murmured Susy, clutching hold of the baluster.

"Well, I don't wish nothing so there," said Dotty Dimple, dreamily.

And this is the last word we are to hear from her. She is nearly asleep. Let us bid her and her two older sisters a Good Night and Pleasant Dreams.

THE END