Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmothers | Page 2

her thoughts wander when Mr. Preston was speaking to God.
When the services were over, and she was going to her Sabbath school class, she passed Jennie Vance in the aisle.
"Where are you going, Jennie?" said she.
"Going home. My mamma says I needn't stay to say my lessons and miss a warm dinner."
Jennie said this with such a toss of the head that Dotty longed to reply in a cutting manner.
"It isn't polite to have warm dinners on Sunday, Jennie Vance! But you said your father had a step-wife, and perhaps she doesn't know!"
"I didn't say my papa had a step-wife, Dotty Dimple."
But this was all Jennie had time to retort, for Dotty now entered the pew where her class were to sit. Miss Preston was the teacher, and it was her custom to have each of her little pupils repeat a half dozen verses or so, which she explained to them in a very clear manner. The children did not always understand her, however; and you shall see hereafter how Dotty's queer little brain grew befogged. The last clause of one of her verses to-day was this:--
"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver."
"Suppose," said Miss Preston, "there were two little girls living in a beautiful house, with everything nice to eat and wear, and there should come a poor man in rags, and beg for charity. One of the little girls is so sorry for him that she runs to her mamma and asks, as a favor, to be allowed to give him some of her Christmas money. The other little girl shakes her head, and says, 'O, sister what makes you do so? But if you do it I must.' Then she pours out half her money for the beggar, but scowls all the while.--Which is the 'cheerful giver?'"
"The first little girl. O, of course, Miss Preston." Then Dotty fell to thinking:--
"I don't have much to give away but just pieces of oranges; but I don't scowl when I do it. I'm a great deal more 'cheerful' than Jennie Vance; for I never saw her give away anything but a thimble after the pig had chewed it. 'There, take it, Lu Piper,' said she, 'for it pinches, and I don't want it.' I shouldn't think that was very cheerful, I am sure."
Thus Dotty treasured up the lesson for the sake of her friend. It was really surprising how anxious she was that Jennie should always do right.
Now it happened that before the week was out a man came to Mr. Parlin's back door begging. Dotty wondered if it might not be the same man Miss Preston had mentioned, only he was in another suit of clothes. She and Jennie were swinging, with Katie between them, and Susy and Prudy were playing croquet. They all ran to see what the man wanted. He was not ragged, and if it had not been for the green shade over his eyes and the crooked walking-stick in his hand, the children would not have thought of his being a beggar. He was a very fleshy man, and the walk seemed to have taken away his breath.
"Little maidens," said he, in gentle tones, "have you anything to give a poor tired wayfarer?"
There was no answer, for the children did not know what to say. But the man seemed to know what to do; he seated himself on the door-step, and wiped his face with a cotton handkerchief. Little Katie, the girl with flying hair, who was sometimes called 'Flyaway,' looked at him with surprise as he puffed at every breath.
"When um breeves," said she to Dotty, "seems's um whissils."
"Come here, little maiden," said the beggar, pointing to Dotty; "you are the handsomest of all, and you may take this document of mine. It will tell you that I am a man of great sorrows."
Dotty, very much flattered, took the paper from his hands. It was greasy and crumpled, looking as if it had been lying beside bread and butter in a dirty pocket. She gave it to Susy, for she could not read it herself. It was written by one of the "selectmen" of a far-away town, and asked all kind people to take pity on the bearer, who was described as "a poor woman with a family of children." Susy laughed, and pointed out the word "woman" to Prudy.
"Why do you smile, little ladies? Isn't it writ right? 'Twas writ by a lawyer."
"I will carry it in to my grandmother," said Susy; and she entered the house, followed by all the children.
"Who knows but he's a griller?" said Jennie.
"Lem me see paper," cried Katie, snatching at it, and holding it up to her left ear.
"O, dear!" sighed she, in a grieved tone; "it won't talk to me, Susy. I don't hear nuffin 'tall."
"She's a