Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmothers | Page 8

a mystery to me."
"You don't say so," said Miss Whiting, looking relieved. "Well, I didn't more than half believe it myself; but the story is going that your Horace stole his Aunt Louise's breastpin, and sold it to a peddler for a rusty gun."
Miss Louise laughed merrily this time.
"I did lose my pearl brooch," said she, "but Prudy found it yesterday in an old glass candlestick."
"What an absurd report!" said Mrs. Clifford, quite annoyed. "I hope the children are not to be suspected every time their Aunt Louise misses anything!"
"They said you had decided to take Horace to the Reform School," added Miss Whiting, "but your friends begged you to leave him at Augusta in somebody's house locked up, with bread and water to eat."
"Now tell me where you heard all this," said Aunt Louise.
"Why, Mrs. Grant told me that Mrs. Small said that Mrs. Gordon told her. I hope you'll excuse me for speaking of it: but I thought you ought to know."
Miss Polly Whiting was a harmless woman, who went from family to family doing little "jobs" of work. She never said what was not true, did no mischief, and in her simple way was quite attached to the Parlins.
"I heard something more that made me very angry," said she, following Miss Louise into the pantry. "Mrs. Grant says Mrs. Gray is very much surprised to find your mother doesn't give good measure when she sells milk!"
Aunt Louise was so indignant at this that she went at once and told her mother.
"It is a little too much to be borne," said she; "the neighbors may invent stories about Horace, if they have nothing better to do, but they shall not slander my mother!"
The two little girls, who were the unconscious cause of all this mischief, were just returning from Mrs. Gray's.
"O, grandma," said Dotty, coming in with the empty pail; "she says she don't want any more milk this summer, and I'm ever so glad! Come, Prudy, let's go and swing."
"Stop," said Mrs. Parlin; "why does Mrs. Gray say she wants no more milk?"
"'Cause," replied Dotty, "'cause our cow is dry, or their cow is dry, or Mrs. Gordon has some to sell. I don't know what she told me, grandma; I've forgot!"
"Then, my dear, she did not say you brought too little milk?"
Dotty winced. "No, grandma, she never."
"Ruth," said Mrs. Parlin, "you are sure you have always measured the milk in that largest quart, and thrown in a gill or two more, as I directed?"
"O, yes, ma'am, I've never failed."
"Then I'm sure I cannot understand it," said Mrs. Parlin, her gentle face looking troubled.
"Unless the children may have spilled some," remarked Mrs. Clifford. "Dotty, have you ever allowed little Katie to carry the pail?"
"No, Dotty don't; her don't 'low me care nuffin--there now!" cried Katie, very glad to tell her sorrows.
"She's so little, you know, Aunt 'Ria," murmured Dotty, with her hand on the door-latch.
There was a struggle going on in Dotty's mind. She wished very much to run away, and at the same time that "voice" which speaks in everybody's heart was saying,--
"Now, Dotty, be a good girl, a noble girl. Tell about drinking the milk under the acorn tree."
"But I needn't," thought Dotty, clicking the door-latch! "it won't be a fib if I just keep still."
"Yes, it will, Dotty Dimple!"
"What! When I squeeze my lips together and don't say a word?"
"'Twill be acting a fib, and you know it, Alice Parlin! I'm ashamed of you! Take your fingers out of your mouth, and speak like a woman."
"I will, if you'll stop till I clear my throat.--O, Grandma," cried Dotty, "I can't tell fibs the way Jennie Vance does! 'Twas we two did it, as true as you live!"
"Did what, child? Who?"
"The milk."
"I don't understand, dear."
Dotty twisted the corner of her apron, and looked out of the window.
"Drank it--Katie and me--under the acorn tree."
"Yes, she did," chimed in Katie; "and 'twasn't nuffin but moolly's cow milk, and her 'pilled it on my shoe!"
Grandmamma really looked relieved.
"So this accounts for it! But Dotty, how could you do such a thing?"
"I telled um not to," cried Katie, "but her kep' a-doin' an' a-doin'."
"Ruthie gives too much measure," replied Dotty, untwisting her apron--"'most two quarts; and when Katie and I ask for some in our nipperkins, Ruthie says, 'No,' she must make butter. I was just as thirsty, grandma, and I thought Mrs. Gray never would care; I did certainly."
"Yes, gamma, we fought Mis Gay would care; did cerdily!"
"My dear Dotty," said Mrs. Parlin, "you had not the shadow of a right to take what belonged to another. It was very wrong; but I really believe you did not know how wrong it was."
Dotty began to breathe more freely.
"But you see, child," interposed Aunt Louise, "you have done a