Dotty Dimple at Play | Page 8

"I must go home and get ready for Christmas."
"No, you musser," persisted Katie; "we've got a Santa Claw in our chimley; you musser go home."
"It isn't for Santa Claus at all, darling it is for my papa and mamma's wedding. To stand up, so they can be married over again. Now kiss me, and let me go."
"Her's goin' home to Kismus pie," remarked Katie, as she took her mournful way with her mamma to the house where they were visiting. She did not know what a wedding might be, but was sure it had pies in it.
"There goes a right smart little girl," said Horace, with a sweep of his thumb towards the Cleveland cars. "If it wasn't for Prudy, I should like her better than any other cousin I have in the world."
"She is an engaging child," replied his mother, "and really seems to be outgrowing her naughty ways."
Thus, you see, Dotty Dimple, in coming away from Indiana, had left in the minds of her friends only "golden opinions." Perhaps she was rather overrated. Everything had gone well with her during her visit; why should she not be pleasant and happy? I am inclined to think there was the same old naughtiness in her heart, only just now it was asleep. We shall see.
Nothing remarkable occurred on the homeward journey, except that Mr. Parlin bought some gold-fishes in Boston, and carried them home as a present to Mrs. Read. They travelled one night in a sleeping-car, and by that means reached Portland a day earlier than they were expected.
Dotty hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry for this. There was a great deal to be said on both sides of the question. She had anticipated the pleasure of being met at the depot by Susy and Prudy, and now that was not to be thought of; but it would be delightful to give the family a surprise. On the whole, she was very well satisfied.
As they drove up to the new home, however, what was their astonishment to find it closed! There was not even a window open, or any other sign that the house was inhabited. Dotty ran to every door, and shook it.
"Why, papa, papa, do you s'pose there's anybody dead?"
"The probability is, Alice, that they have gone away. I will run over to Mrs. Prosser's, and see if she knows anything about it."
Mrs. Prosser was the nearest neighbor on the left. Her little daughter came to the door in tears, having hurt herself against a trunk in the hall.
"Miss Carrie," said Mr. Parlin, "can you tell me where Mrs. Parlin and the rest of the family are gone?"
"Yes, Caddy Prosser, the house is shut up," added Dotty, "and I'm afraid they're dead."
"I don't know where they're gone, nor anything," sobbed Carrie. "I didn't know the trunk was in the entry, and I came so fast I fell right over it."
"I am very sorry you are hurt," said Mr. Parlin. "Is your mother at home?"
"No, sir, she isn't; her trunk came, but she didn't."
There was no information to be obtained at the Prossers'; so Mr. Parlin went to Mr. Lawrence's, the nearest neighbor on the right, making the same inquiries; but all he learned was, that a carriage had been seen standing at Mr. Parlin's door; who had gone away in it nobody could tell.
Dotty paced the pavement with restless steps, her mind agitated by a thousand wild fancies: Grandma Read never went anywhere; perhaps she was locked up in the house, and Zip too. Norah was at Cape Elizabeth; she had walked out to see her friend Bridget, the girl with red hair; and, just as likely as not, she didn't ever mean to come back again. Mother, and Susy, and Prudy had gone to Willowbrook, to grandpa Parlin's--of course they had,--and left grandma Bead all alone in the house, with nothing to eat. How strange! How unkind!
"Grandma!" she called out under Mrs. Read's window.
There was no answer. Dotty fancied the white curtain moved just a little; but that was because a fly was balancing himself on its folds. Grandma was not there, or, if she was, she must be very sound asleep. O, dear, dear! And here were Dotty and her father come home a day earlier than they were expected; and instead of giving the family a joyful surprise, they had a surprise themselves, only not a joyful one, by any means. How impolite it was in everybody, how unkind, to go away! At first, Dotty had been alarmed; but now her indignation got the better of her fears. When she did see Prudy again,--the sister who pretended to love her so much,--she wouldn't take the presents out of her trunk for ever so long, just to tease the naughty girl!
Meanwhile her father