Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple Part 3

"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path."

Dotty listened to this, and Miss Carlisle's remarks upon it, with the most solemn earnestness, hoping to learn why it was that people should sit with a lamp s.h.i.+ning on their feet. She thought she could now see why Prudy loved to go to "Sabber school;" it was because she heard so many funny things.

Soon all the little girls had repeated their texts; but, to her great surprise, Dotty had not been called upon to say or do a single thing. It was a marked slight. She hardly knew whether to be angry or not. "I guess the lady didn't see me," thought Dotty. So she cleared her throat with a loud noise, which echoed across the room. Then Miss Carlisle looked at her and smiled. She was off the seat, standing on her tiptoes, Prudy tried to draw her back; but so much the more Dotty persisted. She shook off her sister's hand.

"I wasn't a 'peakin' to you," said she.

"Never mind her, Prudy," said Miss Carlisle, for the poor girl was crimson with shame; "let your little sister come to me; perhaps she wishes to tell me something."

Miss Carlisle bent forward, and let Dotty place her rosy lips close to her face.

"Now, what do you wish, little one?"

"You didn't hear me say my _werse_," whispered Dotty, in a tone of pique.

"Your verse? Did you learn one, child?"

"Yes, 'm, I did. I learned it all day yes'day."

"O, very well! then say it, by all means, dear."

Prudy's face expressed perfect despair. She tried to hush Dotty; but one might as well coax the wind to stop blowing. The child's thoughts had been like caged birds, and now out they must fly.

"Shall I _whisper_?" asked Dotty.

"No, say your verse aloud."

The child planted herself in front of the cla.s.s, and recited, in a high key, and with the greatest delight,--

"What you thpose um had for supper?

B'ack-eyed beans, un bread un b.u.t.ter."

It was not possible to help smiling. Prudy in spite of her shame and distress, shook with laughter; but it was a laughter just ready to tremble into tears.

"I'll never ask mother to let her come again, if I once _do_ get her safe home," thought outraged Prudy.

Dotty was not allowed to attend Sabbath school again that year; but it was a long time before she forgot some of the things she had heard Miss Carlisle say. Many of the strange words rang in her ears for weeks after wards, though she said nothing about them.

One day she rushed into the nursery out of breath. Prudy was kneeling before her little trunk, putting in order the paper dolls, which Dotty had scattered over the floor. They were a sad sight. Some of them had lost their heads, and some had lost their fine clothes, which are worth as much as heads any day--to dolls.

But Dotty did not stop to look at the mischief she had made. Her thoughts were of other matters. She had brought from the kitchen a "Tom Thumb lamp" and a bunch of matches.

Without a word she seated herself on the floor, behind her sister, and drew off her shoes and stockings. She looked for a moment at her little pink toes, then rubbed the whole bunch of matches on the carpet, saying to herself, "A lamp to my feet."

But, somehow, the lamp would not light itself. Dotty did not know how to turn back the chimney, and, though there was certainly blaze enough in the matches, it did not catch the wick. It leaped forward and caught the skirt of Prudy's dress.

"You're burnin' afire! You're burnin' afire!" shouted Dotty, dancing around her sister. Prudy now felt the heat, and screamed too, bringing her mother and Norah to the spot at once. The flames were soon smothered in a rug, and so Prudy's life was mercifully saved.

It was sometime before any one understood what Dotty had been trying to do with a light.

"I was just only a-puttin' a lamp to my feet," sobbed she. "I learned it to Sabber school."

But the little one's rare tears were soon dried by a romp with Zip out of doors.

"It's queer how things always happen just right," said Prudy, still trembling from her fright. "You said, if I'd been wearing my calico, mother, I'd have been scorched. And you know it was only the littlest while ago I put on this blue delaine, to go to auntie's in!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE NESTLINGS.

An hour or two after this, Mrs. Parlin, Susy, Prudy, and Zip went to visit Mrs. Eastman, who now lived a little way out of town.

Dotty was driving ducks, and did not see her mother and sisters when they started.

"Where is they, Nono? And where's Prudy?"

"Gone walking. Your mamma told you they were going," replied Norah, setting a basin of water and a brush and comb on the stand.

"Well, Prudy's runned away," cried Dotty, "Naughty girl; made out o'

dirt!"

"Come here, Miss Dimple, and let me brush your hair."

"Well, here's my hair, Nono, but you mustn't pull it; 'tisn't _your_ hair! O, I want to kiss my mamma, I do!"

"Your mamma will be back again this evening."

"Don't want to kiss her in the evening--want to kiss her now!"

"What makes you in such a hurry to kiss your mother?"

"O, I just only want to tell her to whip Prudy. Naughty Prudy runned away! Made out o' dirt!"

Dotty always looked very low-spirited while her long hair was being curled over a stick, and now was more unhappy than usual, for it was one of her "temper days."

But at last cousin Percy Eastman happened to call in, and declared he must take his pretty cousin home with him in the carriage.

"I'll get her ready," said Norah; "but you're sure to be sorry if you take her, for she's br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with mischief to-day."

Dotty danced like a piece of thistledown. "There, Nono," said she, "I's goin' to auntie's my own self; Prudy'll have to give up."

All this time Mrs. Parlin and the two older children were having a fine walk. It was a bright June day. Prudy said she had to sing to herself for all the things she saw looked as happy as if they were alive. As Prudy talked, she flew from flower to flower, like a honey-bee.

"I can't wait for Prudy to walk so zigzag," said Susy.