Little Prudys Dotty Dimple | Page 2

have to go too, or there'll be a fuss," sighed Susy,
stroking the baby's hair, which was as soft as a mouse's fur.
Both children cast a lingering look at the bewitching little figure, so
daintily wrapped in a fleecy blanket. Prudy felt tempted to snatch her
up and give her a good hugging, but stood in mortal fear of the nurse.
There was something awful about Mrs. Fling: Prudy presumed it was
the wart on her nose.
When the children were outside the door, and grandma had closed it
gently, they seated themselves on the upper step of the staircase, and
began to talk over this strange affair.
"Don't you know what made me cry in there?" said Prudy. "The baby

isn't only a girl, and that's why I cried."
For the moment Prudy fancied she was telling the truth.
Susy laughed. "Just to think of our keeping a boy in THIS house, Prudy
Parlin!"
"O, no! course not!" returned her little sister, quickly; "we wouldn't
keep a boy."
"You see," argued Susy, "it's boys that fires all the popguns, and
whistle in your ears, and frighten you. Why, if this was a brother, we
couldn't but just live! What made you cry for a brother, Prudy?"
"Poh, I didn't! I wouldn't have him for nothin' in my world! I'm glad
God sended a girl, and that's what made me laugh."
"It seems so queer to think of it Prudy, I don't know what to do with
myself, I declare."
"Well, I know what _I'm_ goin' to do. I'll give her my red pocket-dress.
She's come clear down from God's house, and this is a drefful cold
world."
Susy knew that little Prudy's heart must be overflowing with sisterly
love to the baby, or she would not be willing to give her the
pocket-dress.
"She can tuck her candy in it," pursued Prudy; "'tisn't a believe-make,
you know; there's a hole clear through. She can tuck her candy in, and
her pyunes and pfigs, and teenty apples. Oho!"
"'Twill be as mother says about giving her your dress, Prudy; but we
shall be glad to see you kind to the new sister," said Susy, who was
fond of giving small lectures to Prudy. "We ought to be kind to her, for
God sent her down on purpose. Of course it will be ME that will take
the most care of her; but maybe they'll let you watch her sometimes
when she's asleep. Don't blow open her eyes any more, Prudy; that's

very naughty. If we do just as we ought to, and are kind to her, she'll be
a comfort, and grow up a lady!"
"O, will she?" asked Prudy, a little sadly. "I thought when she growed
up she'd be a gemplum, like papa."
"What an idea! But that's just as much sense as you little bits o' children
have! When you don't know about anything, Prudy, you may come and
ask _me_; I'm most six."
The new baby was very wonderful indeed. The first thing she did was
to cry; the next was to sneeze. Prudy wished "all the people down street,
and all the ladies that lived in the whole o' the houses, could see the
new sister." Her heart swelled with pride when admiring ladies took the
unconscious little creature in their arms, saying, "Really, it is a
remarkably pretty child. What starry eyes! What graceful little fingers!
Isn't her mouth shaped like Prudy's?"
Mrs. Parlin did not approve of cradles, and the nurse had a fashion of
rolling the baby in a blanket and laying her down in all sorts of places.
One day little Prudy flung herself into the big rocking chair, not
noticing the small bundle which lay there, under a silk handkerchief.
It was feared at first that the baby was crushed to death; but when she
was heard to cry, Mrs. Parlin said, "We have great cause for
thankfulness. So far as I can judge, it is only her nose that is broken!"
But the doctor pronounced the baby's bones as sound as ever.
"It is only little Miss Prudy whose nose is out of joint," added he.
Prudy ran to look in the glass, but could not see anything the matter
with her nose, or anything that looked like "a joint." But after this she
was as careful as a child of her heedless age can be, not to injure her
tender sister. She never again saw a silk handkerchief without shaking
it to make sure there was not a baby under it.
It was a long while before the friends could decide upon a name for this

beautiful stranger.
"For my part I have no choice," said Mr. Parlin, "and only one remark
to make; call the child by her right