Dotty Dimple at Play | Page 7

was not possible to take an observation.
"It is two bells," said she: "the wind is out; there will be a fearful storm.
I would advise the passengers to turn into their berths."
The children lay down upon the floor. "There, there," said Miriam Lake,
who was playing Jennie Holiday; "my poor little kitty is just as seasick!
Her head keeps going round and round."
"My head has did it too," chimed in Katie, rolling herself into a ball; "it
keeps yocking yound and yound."
"I pitch about so in my berth," said Octavia, who was Rollo, "that next
thing I shall be out on the floor. Hark! How the water is pouring in! I'm
afraid the ship has sprung a leak; and if it has I must call the
chambermaid."
Mrs. Clifford, who stood looking on, was quite amused at the idea of
calling the chambermaid to stop a leak in the ship.

"Man the pumps!" said the captain. The girls tugged away at a pole in
one end of the wagon, moving it up and down like a churn-dash.
"I do hope this wind will go down," sighed Emily.
"Well, it will," said simple Flyaway; "I hear it going."
"It is head wind and a heavy sea," remarked the captain; "but never fear;
we shall weather the storm. We are now on the southern coast of
Ireland. I don't think," added she, in a different tone, "it is best to be
shipwrecked, children--do you? We will hurry into Liverpool, and then
I think it likely your little visitors may enjoy keeping house with your
dolls, or having a nice swing."
"I wish I could eat something," said Dotty, with a solemn face; "but I'm
too sick."
"So'm I," groaned Flyaway. "I couldn't eat noffin'--'cept cake."
"If you are in such a condition as that," said the captain, "it is certainly
high time we landed. And here comes a pilot boat with a signal flying.
We will take the pilot on board," added she; drawing in another little
girl. "And look! here we are now in Liverpool."
"We must go to the Adelphi," said Octavia; "that is where Rollo went,
and found his father, and mother, and Thannie. But the kitten didn't
ever get there--did it, Miss Percival?"
The voyage being ended, and with it the fearful seasickness, the
children went to swinging, with their teacher to push them.
"Miss Percival," said aunt Maria, shaking hands with that excellent
young lady, "I wish you joy of your noble employment. It is a blessed
thing to be able to give so much pleasure to these dear little children."
"So it seems to me," replied Miss Percival. "They are always grateful,
too, for every little kindness."
"They look very good and obedient," said Mrs. Clifford, in a low voice.
"So they are. Sometimes I think they are better than children who have
eyes; perhaps because they cannot see to get into so much mischief,"
added Miss Percival, pinching Emily's cheek.
"Aunt 'Ria," said Dotty, in raptures, "_don't_ they have good times
here?"
"Yelly good times," said little Flyaway, clutching at her mother's dress.
"Mamma, I wish I was blind-eyed, too."
"You, my darling baby! Mother hopes that will never be. But if you
cannot be blind-eyed yourself, perhaps you may make some of these

little ones happy. Is there anything you would like to give away?"
Flyaway winked slowly, trying to think what she had at home that she
no longer wished to keep.
"Yes, mamma," said she at last, with a smile of satisfaction, "I've got a
old hat."
"O, fie, Katie! I dare say you would be very glad to part with that, for I
remember you cried the other day when I asked you to wear it. Your
old hat would not be a pretty present."
"Then I can't fink of noffin' else," said Katie, shaking her head; at the
same time having a guilty recollection of several beautiful toys, and
"'most a hunnerd bushels of canny;" that is to say, a small box of
confectionery her uncle Edward had given her.
Mrs. Clifford had observed of late that her little daughter was not as
generous as she could wish. Both Katie and Dotty were peculiarly
liable to become selfish, as they were much petted at home, and had no
younger brothers or sisters with whom to share their treasures. Mrs.
Clifford did not insist upon Katie's making any sacrifice. The little one
did not pity the blind children at all. They seemed so happy that she
almost envied them. So did Miss Dimple. It was not, after all, very
grievous to be blind, she thought, if one could live at this Institute and
have such nice plays.
"Aunt 'Ria thinks I ought to give them something, I s'pose. When