Little Prudys Dotty Dimple | Page 8

he
knows how easy he could toss folks right up in the air?"
"I hope my little daughter is not afraid of a gentle cow."
"No, indeed," cried Prudy, clinging fast to her mother's hand. "Poh! if I
was afraid of a cow I'd be a cow--ard. I'd as lief he'd see me as not, if
you'll shake your parasol at him, mamma."
Prudy breathed more freely when the cow was out of sight.
Soon she saw something which caused her to forget her terror. Peeping
in among the branches of a small tree, she espied what she called a
"live bird's nest." Never having seen any young birds before, she
wondered at first "who had picked off their feathers." The wee things
seemed to be left to themselves while their mother was away providing
supper.
"Haven't they very big stretchy mouths, for such small birdies?" said
Prudy. "Aren't you afraid they'll crack their mouths in two, gaping so,
mamma?"
"They are only hungry, child. Suppose you feed them with a bit of a

berry."
Prudy nipped a strawberry into three parts with her thumb and
forefinger, and dropped the pieces into their mouths.
"O, mamma, they swallowed it whole! they swallowed it whole! Their
teeth haven't come!"
Prudy's fresh delight and surprise were so pleasant to witness that her
mother allowed her to linger for a while, mincing berries for the
nestlings supper.
When, at last, they reached Mrs. Eastman's, Prudy eagerly described
the young wonders she had found.
"It was like a story," said she, "of little widow-children,--how the
mother was dead, and the children had to stay alone."
"Children are never widows," said Susy, laughing; "it isn't possible!
But if their parents die, they are orphans sometimes."
"That's just what I meant," exclaimed Prudy, looking crestfallen. "I
should think you might know what I mean, 'thout laughing at me,
either."
Before long Dotty Dimple arrived, in great triumph. She threw her
chubby arms about her mother's neck, saying, "Is I your little comfort,
mamma? I camed in the hoss and carriage. S'an't give Prudy no
supper--will you? 'Cause Prudy runned away!"
"I should not have allowed this child to come," said Mrs. Parlin, at the
tea table; "but cousin Percy always picks up the stray babies, and gives
them a ride."
Dotty looked as if she could easily forgive her cousin Percy. But there
was one thing that made her nice supper taste like "spoiled nectar," and
that was the sight of Prudy enjoying her strawberries and cream.
If she had runned away, as Dotty insisted upon believing, why was she

not shut up in the closet? Strange to say, dearly as Dotty loved this kind
sister, she enjoyed seeing her punished. She was vexed because Prudy
was allowed, after all, to sit at the table with the rest of the family. The
little creature was very tired, for she had driven ducks all the long
summer day. She was also a little sleepy; and, more than all, it was one
of her "temper days," when everything went wrong.
After tea she had a serious quarrel with her little cousin Johnny, over a
dead squirrel, which they both tried to feed with sugared water, from a
teaspoon.
"Johnny," cried she, "don't you touch his mouf any more! If you do, I
s'an't w'ip you, Johnny, but I'll sp'inkle some ashes on your head! Yes, I
will."
Johnny, heedless of the threat, tried again to force open Bunny's stiff
mouth, Dotty's beautiful eyes blazed.
Without a word she walked off proudly to the kitchen, and came back
with a handful of cold ashes, which she freely sifted into Johnny's
flaxen hair. Mrs. Parlin saw that it was high time to take her youngest
daughter home.
"O, mother," said Prudy, who always felt herself disgraced by her little
sister's bad conduct, "sometimes Dotty pretty nearly makes you cry!
Don't you almost wish you hadn't any such little girl?"
"My dear child, I am her mother, and she could hardly do anything so
naughty that I should cast her out of my heart. When she has these
freaks of temper, I think, 'God bears with me, and I will try to bear with
my little one. I will wait. One of these days, when her reason grows,
she will be a real blessing to us all.'"
Mrs. Parlin proceeded to put on Dotty's outer wrappings, saying she
must be taken home. The child struggled and screamed, and declared
she "would be good, she would be a comfort;" but her mother was firm,
though her sweet temper never for a moment forsook her. Susy and
Prudy looked on, and learned a lesson in patience which was worth

twenty lectures.
Percy Eastman was as glad to carry his spirited little cousin back as he
had