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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24711-h.zip b/24711-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..04c6d1f --- /dev/null +++ b/24711-h.zip diff --git a/24711-h/24711-h.htm b/24711-h/24711-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08d1d34 --- /dev/null +++ b/24711-h/24711-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4038 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Prudy, by Sophie May + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + a[name] { position: static; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none; } + a:hover { color:#ff0000; } + ul {list-style:none; margin-left:25%;} + .f1 { margin-left:80%; } +.f2 { margin-left:10%; } +.f3 { margin-left:15%; } +.f4 { margin-left:20%; } +.f5 { font-size:smaller; } +.f6 { font-size:smaller; } + + table { width:80%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .tocch { text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.img1 { border-color:#000000; border-style:solid; border-width:0.1em; } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + background-color:#FFFFFF; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style:normal; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; + font-size: smaller; + } + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Prudy, by Sophie May + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Prudy + +Author: Sophie May + +Release Date: February 28, 2008 [EBook #24711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE PRUDY *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="500" height="749" alt="The A. B. C. Scholars. Page 22 ." /> +<span class="caption">The A. B. C. Scholars. <a href="#Page_22">Page 22 .</a></span></div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>Little Prudy Stories</h4> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h1>LITTLE PRUDY</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>SOPHIE MAY</h2> +<h4> + Author of "Little Prudy Stories," "Dotty Dimple Stories,"<br /> + "Flaxie Frizzle Stories," "Little Prudy's Flyaway Series,"<br /> + "Little Prudy's Children Series," "Pauline Wyman," "Joy Bells," etc.<br /> +</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/seal.jpg" width="150" height="259" alt="Seal" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>BOSTON</h3> +<h2>LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1891, by Rebecca S. Clarke.</span></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DEDICATION" id="DEDICATION"></a>DEDICATION</h2> + + +<h3>TO THE LITTLE PUBLIC</h3> +<h4>A Merry Christmas, dear Children</h4> +<p>You who have read of Prudy Parlin, in the "Congregationalist" and +"Little Pilgrim," and have learned to love her there, may love her +better in a book by herself with pictures.</p> + +<p>To you who never saw her before, we will introduce her now. It is easy +to feel acquainted with Prudy; for she is, as you will find, a very +talkative little lady.</p> + +<p>There is no end of things which might be told of Susy, Grace, and +Horace; and if you wish to hear more about them, you have only to wait +a little while.</p> + +<p>God is sending us another year as fresh and clean as the purest paper. +Let us thank Him for it, and try to write it over with kind thoughts +and good deeds; then it will be for all of us</p> + +<h4><i>A HAPPY NEW YEAR!</i></h4> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tocch f6">CHAP.</td> + <td></td> + <td></td><td class="tocpg f6">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">I.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Prudy's Patchwork,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">II.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Prudy going up to Heaven,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">III.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Prudy's Knitting-Work,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Prudy's Picnic</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">,</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">V.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Prudy in the Pines,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Prudy Sick,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Prudy's Present,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VIII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Prudy Fishing,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IX.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Hatchet Story,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">X.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">More Stories,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Prudy's White Tea,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Prudy Trying to Help,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Gypsy Supper,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The Angel-Baby,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Going Home,</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LITTLE_PRUDY" id="LITTLE_PRUDY"></a>LITTLE PRUDY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY'S PATCHWORK</h2> + + +<p>I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always +saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble.</p> + +<p>Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years +older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer +they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother.</p> + +<p>At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, and +Prudy was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> between three and four. Susy could sew quite well for a +girl of her age, and had a stint every day. Prudy always thought it +very fine to do just as Susy did, so she teased her mother to let +<i>her</i> have some patchwork, too, and Mrs. Parlin gave her a few calico +pieces, just to keep her little fingers out of mischief.</p> + +<p>But when the squares were basted together, she broke needles, pricked +her fingers, and made a great fuss; sometimes crying, and wishing +there were no such thing as patchwork.</p> + +<p>One morning she sat in her rocking-chair, doing what she thought was a +"<i>stint</i>." She kept running to her mother with every stitch, saying, +"Will that do?" Her mother was very busy, and said, "My little +daughter must not come to me." So Prudy sat down near the door, and +began to sew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> with all her might; but soon her little baby sister came +along, looking so cunning, that Prudy dropped her needle, and went to +hugging her.</p> + +<p>"O, little sister," cried she, "I wouldn't have a horse come and eat +you up for any thing in the world!"</p> + +<p>After this, of course, her mother had to get her another needle, and +then thread it for her. She went to sewing again till she pricked her +finger, and the sight of the wee drop of blood made her cry.</p> + +<p>"O, dear! I wish somebody would pity me!" But her mother was so busy +frying doughnuts that she could not stop to talk much; and the next +thing she saw of Prudy she was at the farther end of the room, while +her patchwork lay on the spice box.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Prudy, Prudy, what are you up to now?"</p> + +<p>"Up to the table," said Prudy. "O, mother, I'm so sorry, but I've +broke a crack in the pitcher!"</p> + +<p>"What will mamma do with you? You haven't finished your stint—what +made you get out of your chair?"</p> + +<p>"O, I thought grandma might want me to get her <i>speckles</i>. I thought I +would go and find Zip too. See, mamma, he's so tickled to see me he +shakes all over—every bit of him!"</p> + +<p>"Where's your patchwork?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. You've got a double name, haven't you, doggie? It's Zip +Coon, but it isn't a <i>very</i> double name,—is it, mother?"</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Parlin had finished her doughnuts, she said, "Pussy, you +can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> keep still two minutes. Now, if you want to sew this patchwork +for grandma's quilt, I'll tell you what I shall do. There's an empty +hogshead in the back kitchen, and I'll lift you into that, and you +can't climb out. I'll lift you out when your stint is done."</p> + +<p>"O, what a funny little house," said Prudy, when she was inside; and +as she spoke, her voice startled her—it was so loud and hollow. "I'll +talk some more," thought she, "it makes such a queer noise.—'Old Mrs. +Hogshead, I thought I'd come and see you, and bring my work. I like +your house, ma'am, only I should think you'd want some windows. I +s'pose you know who I am, Mrs. Hogshead? My name is Prudy. My mother +didn't put me in here because I was a naughty girl, for I haven't done +nothing—nor nothing—nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> nothing. Do you want to hear some singing?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O, come, come away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From labor now reposin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let <i>busy Caro, wife of Barrow</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, come away!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Prudy, what's the matter?" said mamma, from the next room.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you hear somebody singing?" said Prudy; "well, 'twas me."</p> + +<p>"O, I was afraid you were crying, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll stop," said the child. "Now, Mrs. Hogshead, you won't hear +me singing any more,—it <i>mortifies</i> my mother very much."</p> + +<p>So Prudy made her fingers fly, and soon said, "Now, mamma, I've got it +done, and I'm ready to be <i>took out</i>!"</p> + +<p>Just then her father came into the house. "Prudy's in the hogshead," +said Mrs. Parlin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> "Won't you please lift her out, father? I've got +baby in my arms."</p> + +<p>Mr. Parlin peeped into the hogshead. "How in this world did you ever +get in here, child?" said he. "I think I'll have to take you out with +a pair of tongs."</p> + +<p>Prudy laughed.</p> + +<p>"Give me your hands," said papa. "Up she comes! Now, come sit on my +knee," added he, when they had gone into the parlor, "and tell me how +you climbed into that hogshead."</p> + +<p>"Mother dropped me in, and I'm going to stay there till I make a +bedquilt, only I'm coming out to eat, you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Parlin laughed; but just then the dinner bell rang, and when they +went to the table, Prudy was soon so busy with her roasted chicken and +custard pie that she forgot all about the patchwork.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY GOING UP TO HEAVEN</h2> + + +<p>Prudy soon tired of sewing, and her mother said, laughing, "If grandma +Read has to wait for somebody's little fingers before she gets a +bedquilt, poor grandma will sleep very cold indeed."</p> + +<p>The calico pieces went into the rag-bag, and that was the last of +Prudy's patchwork.</p> + +<p>One day the children wanted to go and play in the "new house," which +was not quite done. Mrs. Parlin was almost afraid little Prudy might +get hurt, for there were a great many loose boards and tools lying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +about, and the carpenters, who were at work on the house, had all gone +away to see some soldiers. But at last she said they might go if Susy +would be very careful of her little sister.</p> + +<p>I dare say Susy meant to watch Prudy with great care, but after a +while she got to thinking of something else. The little one wanted to +play "catch," but Susy saw a great deal more sport in building block +houses.</p> + +<p>"Now I know ever so much more than you do," said Susy. "I used to wash +dishes and scour knives when I was four years old, and that was the +time I learned you to walk, Prudy; so you ought to play with me, and +be goody."</p> + +<p>"Then I will; but them blocks is too big, Susy. If I had <i>a axe</i> I'd +chop 'em: I'll go get <i>a axe</i>." Little Prudy trotted off, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> Susy +never looked up from her play, and did not notice that she was gone a +long while.</p> + +<p>By and by Mrs. Parlin thought she would go and see what the children +were doing; so she put on her bonnet and went over to the "new house." +Susy was still busy with her blocks, but she looked up at the sound of +her mother's footsteps.</p> + +<p>"Where is Prudy?" said Mrs. Parlin, glancing around.</p> + +<p>"I'm 'most up to heaven," cried a little voice overhead.</p> + +<p>They looked, and what did they see? Prudy herself standing on the +highest beam of the house! She had climbed three ladders to get there. +Her mother had heard her say the day before that "she didn't want to +shut up her eyes and die, and be all deaded up—she meant to have her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +hands and face clean, and go up to heaven on a ladder."</p> + +<p>"O," thought the poor mother, "she is surely on the way to heaven, for +she can never get down alive. My darling, my darling!"</p> + +<p>Poor Susy's first thought was to call out to Prudy, but her mother +gave her one warning glance, and that was enough: Susy neither spoke +nor stirred.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin stood looking up at her—stood as white and still as if +she had been frozen! Her trembling lips moved a little, but it was in +prayer; she knew that only God could save the precious one.</p> + +<p>While she was begging Him to tell her what to do, a sudden thought +flashed across her mind. She dared not speak, lest the sound of her +voice should startle the child; but she had a bunch of keys in her +pocket,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> and she jingled the keys, holding them up as high as +possible, that Prudy might see what they were.</p> + +<p>When the little one heard the jingling, she looked down and smiled. +"You goin' to let me have some cake and 'serves in the china closet, +me and Susy?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin smiled—such a smile! It was a great deal sadder than +tears, though Prudy did not know that—she only knew that it meant +"yes."</p> + +<p>"O, then I'm coming right down, 'cause I like cake and 'serves. I +won't go up to heaven till <i>bime-by</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then she walked along the beam, and turned about to come down the +ladders. Mrs. Parlin held her breath, and shut her eyes. She dared not +look up, for she knew that if Prudy should take one false step, she +must fall and be dashed in pieces!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Prudy was not wise enough to fear any thing. O, no. She was only +thinking very eagerly about crimson jellies and fruit cake. She crept +down the ladders without a thought of danger—no more afraid than a +fly that creeps down the window-pane.</p> + +<p>The air was so still that the sound of every step was plainly heard, +as her little feet went pat,—pat,—on the ladder rounds. God was +taking care of her,—yes, at length the last round was reached—she +had got down—she was safe!</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" cried Mrs. Parlin, as she held little Prudy close to her +heart; while Susy jumped for joy, exclaiming,—</p> + +<p>"We've got her! we've got her! O, ain't you so happy, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"O, mamma, what you crying for?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> said little Prudy, clinging about +her neck. "Ain't I your little comfort?—there, now, you know what you +<i>speaked</i> about! You said you'd get some cake and verserves for me and +Susy."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY'S KNITTING-WORK</h2> + + +<p>Susy felt as if she had been sadly to blame, and for a long time was +very watchful of her little sister.</p> + +<p>"Your name is Susy," said the child; "and your middle name is <i>Sister +Susy</i>, and you take the care o' me!"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," thought Susy to herself. "If I had taken any care of +you at all, you wouldn't have climbed those ladders."</p> + +<p>When Prudy was four years old, she teased to go to school, and her +mother decided to let her go until she grew tired of it.</p> + +<p>"O, dear!" sighed Susy, the first day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> she took her; "she'll talk out +loud, I just about know she will, she's such a little chatter-box."</p> + +<p>"Poh; no I shan't," said Prudy. "I ain't a <i>checker-box</i>, Susy Parlin; +but you are! I shan't talk in school, nor I shan't whisper, never in +my world!"</p> + +<p>When they got home that night, Mrs. Parlin asked if Prudy had +whispered in school.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. I never done such a thing—I guess. Did I, Susy? How much +I <i>didn't</i> talk to you, don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"O, she was <i>pretty</i> good, mother," said Susy; "but she cried once so +I had to go out with her."</p> + +<p>"Now, Susy Parlin, you <i>told</i> me to cry! She <i>did</i>, mamma. She said if +I'd cry she'd give me a piece of her doughnut."</p> + +<p>Susy blushed; and her mother looked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> her, and said, "I would like +to see you alone a little while, Susy."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Parlin had a talk with Susy in the parlor, and told her how +wrong it was to deceive, and how she must take the care of her little +sister, and set her good examples.</p> + +<p>Susy said she would do as well as she could.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, if you are willing, I'd rather not sit with Prudy, now, +certainly. She says such queer things. Why, to-day she said she had +grandma's rheumatism in her back, and wanted me to look at her +<i>tongue</i> and see if she hadn't. Why, mother, as true as I live, she +shut up her eyes and put out her tongue right there in school, and of +course we girls couldn't help laughing!"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps she'd better sit by herself,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> replied Mrs. Parlin, +smiling. "I will speak to the teacher about her carrying her +knitting-work—that may keep her out of mischief."</p> + +<p>Now it happened that grandma Read had taken a great deal of pains to +teach Prudy to knit;—but such a piece of work as the child made of +it!</p> + +<p>The first time she carried the thing which she supposed was going to +be a stocking, the A B C scholars looked very much surprised, for none +of them knew how to knit.</p> + +<p>Prudy said, "Poh, I know how to do it just as easy!"</p> + +<p>But in trying to show them how smart she could be, she knit so fast +that she dropped a stitch every other moment.</p> + +<p>"There, now, you are dropping stitches like every thing," said Lottie +Palmer, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> much pleased. "I guess I know how to do <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Poh, them's nothing but the <i>loops</i>," said Prudy.</p> + +<p>But it was not long before she broke the yarn short off, and got her +work into such a fix that she had to take it home and ask grandma to +"fix it out."</p> + +<p>"Why, child, where's the ball?" said her grandmother. "And here's two +needles gone!"</p> + +<p>"O, I left 'em to school, I s'pose," said Prudy. "I'm sure I never +noticed 'em."</p> + +<p>"I found the ball under the teacher's desk <i>once</i>," said Susy.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'tain't there now," replied Prudy; "it's all <i>wounded</i> now, and +I put it where it b'longs."</p> + +<p>"Where's that?" asked grandma, laughing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," answered Prudy, trying to think; "but I guess +it's <i>somewhere</i>."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin began to think it was a foolish plan to let Prudy take her +knitting-work. I was going to mention something she did the last day +she carried it. She got tired of knitting, tired of twisting her +pretty curls round her finger, and tired of looking at pictures.</p> + +<p>"Let's guess riddles," she whispered to Nancy Glover, who sat on the +bench beside her. "I can make up riddles just as easy! There's +something in this room, in Miss Parker's watch-pocket, goes +<i>tick—tick</i>. Now guess that:—that's a riddle."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd behave, Prudy Parlin," said Nancy. "Here I am trying to +get my spelling lesson."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Nancy turned her head a little to one side, and went to studying +as hard as she could, for it was almost time for her class to be +called.</p> + +<p>All at once Prudy happened to look at Nancy's ear, and thought, "What +funny little holes folks have in their ears! I s'pose they go clear +through. I guess I'll put my knitting-needle right through Nannie's +ear while she's a-studyin'. The needle will look so funny stickin' out +at the other end!"</p> + +<p>So Prudy was very sly about it, and said not a word, but began to push +in the needle with all her might.</p> + +<p>O, such sharp screams as Nannie gave! The teacher was frightened; but +when she found that Nannie was not so <i>very</i> badly hurt after all, she +felt easier about her, and began to talk to little Prudy, asking her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +"why she didn't sit still, like a lady, and <i>mind</i>?"</p> + +<p>Prudy began to cry. "I <i>was</i> a-mindin'," said she; "of course I was. I +never knew 'twas a-goin' to hurt her."</p> + +<p>Miss Parker smiled, and said, "Well, you needn't bring that +knitting-work here any more. The next thing we should have somebody's +<i>eyes</i> put out."</p> + +<p>When Miss Parker called out the next class in spelling, Nannie sat +with her head down, feeling very cross. "I don't like you, Prudy," +said she. "You 'most killed me! I'll pay you for this, now you see!"</p> + +<p>Miss Parker had to call Nannie by name before she would go to her +class. She was three or four years older than Prudy, and ought to have +known better than to be angry with such a little child. She should +have forgotten all about it: that would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> have been the best way. But +instead of that, she kept thinking,—</p> + +<p>"O, how that knitting-needle did hurt! Prudy ought to be ashamed! I'll +pay her for it, now you see!"</p> + +<p>You may be sure Prudy did not worry her little brains about it at all.</p> + +<p>Her mother was brushing her hair next morning for school, and Mr. +Parlin said,—</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she's too little to go to school, mother? I don't +care about her learning to read yet awhile."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin smiled in a droll way. "I should be very sorry myself to +have Prudy learn to read," replied she; "but she won't keep still long +enough: you needn't be a bit afraid."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Prudy," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, "can you spell any words?"</p> + +<p>"Poh! yes, sir, I guess I can," replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> Prudy, her eyes looking very +bright, "I can spell 'most all there is to spell."</p> + +<p>"O, ho," laughed Mr. Parlin. "Let's hear you spell your own name. +Can't do it, can you?"</p> + +<p>"Poh! yes, I can! That ain't nothin'. Pre-ed, Prood, Pre-i-eddy, +Prudy. There!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" cried papa. "You're getting ahead, I declare! Now can you +spell Susy's name?"</p> + +<p>"Spell Susy? Why, I can do it just as easy!" replied Prudy, her eyes +shining very bright indeed. "C-ez, Sooz, C-i-ezzy, Susy. There! Can't +I spell?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I should think you could," said papa, laughing. "I can't begin +to spell the way you do. Now can you spell <i>Cat</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Cat? <i>Cat?</i>" repeated Prudy, looking puzzled. "Well, I guess I've +forgot how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> to spell cat. But I can spell <i>Kitty</i>. You just hear! +Kee-et, kit, kee-i-etty, kitty! I can spell the big words the best."</p> + +<p>"What think now?" said Mrs. Parlin. "The truth is, Prudy knew eight +letters when she began to go to school, and now she knows but four."</p> + +<p>"Glad of it," returned Mr. Parlin. "Are you ready for school, little +one?" And he held out his arms, saying,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now, my own dear little girl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is no way but this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put your arms about my neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And give me one sweet kiss."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So Prudy hugged and kissed her father "just as hard." Then she and +Susy trudged along to school, and they met Nancy Glover, who was +carrying something in her apron.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I see what you've got?" said little Prudy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not till I get ready," said Nancy. "Who stuck that knitting-needle +into my ear?"</p> + +<p>"You know she didn't mean to," said Susy.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," cried Nancy, "it <i>hurt</i>!"</p> + +<p>Prudy felt very sorry. "I wish I hadn't hurt you, Nanny," said she, +"'cause I want to see what you've got in your apron."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you'll see it soon enough. I brought it to school <i>to +purpose</i> for you."</p> + +<p>"O, did you?" cried the child. "How good you are, Nanny. I love you +'most as well as I do Susy."</p> + +<p>When little Prudy spoke so sweetly, Nancy didn't know what to say; so +she said nothing. They went into the school-house and took their +seats, Nancy keeping the corner of her apron rolled up all the while.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>By and by, when Miss Parker was hearing the third class, Nancy +whispered,—</p> + +<p>"Look here, Prudy Parlin, you wanted to know what I had in my apron: +shall I show you now?"</p> + +<p>"O, goody!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," continued Nanny,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Open your mouth and shut your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll give you something to make you wise!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So Prudy opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and squeezed her +eyelids together very hard.</p> + +<p>Then what should Nancy do, but take out of her apron <i>a wee bit of a +toad</i>, and drop it in Prudy's mouth! I can't see how she dared do such +a thing; but she did it. She had found the toad in the street, and +picked it up to frighten little Prudy.</p> + +<p>The moment the toad was dropped on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> the child's tongue of course it +began to hop. Prudy hopped too. She seized her tongue with one hand +and the toad with the other, screaming at the top of her voice.</p> + +<p>The scholars were all frightened to hear such a scream, and to see +Prudy running out to the teacher so fast.</p> + +<p>"Do tell me what ails you?" said Miss Parker.</p> + +<p>By that time Prudy had got rid of the toad, and could speak.</p> + +<p>"O, dear, dear, <i>dear</i>," cried she, "I didn't know it was a toad till +it hopped right up!"</p> + +<p>"A <i>toad</i> here in the house!" cried Miss Parker.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," said Prudy, trembling and sobbing. "It wasn't in the +house,—it was in my mouth,—right here on my tongue."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>Prudy showed Miss Parker her tongue. Miss Parker laughed, thinking her +a very funny child.</p> + +<p>"I've heard, before now, of little folks having frogs in their +throats," said she. "Is that what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so," sobbed Prudy. "And it was alive—just as alive as could +be! O, O!—Nancy, she told me to shut up my eyes, you know, and I +didn't see the toad till it hopped right up in my mouth,—and <i>then</i> I +didn't see it! O, O!"</p> + +<p>"Nancy, come here," said Miss Parker, sternly. "What have you been +doing to this little child?"</p> + +<p>Nancy came out, with her fingers in her mouth, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Answer me; did you drop a toad into Prudy's mouth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Nancy, sulkily; "but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> she stuck a knitting-needle into +my ear <i>fust</i>!"</p> + +<p>"For shame, you wicked child," said Miss Parker. "Take up that toad, +Nancy, and carry it out of doors; then come to me, for I must punish +you."</p> + +<p>"Now, Prudy," added Miss Parker, "what do you think I ought to do to +Nancy for being so naughty?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Prudy, crying still. "I don't s'pose my +mother would be willing to have folks put toads in my mouth."</p> + +<p>"But what do you think I ought to do to her?" said Miss Parker, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Was you goin' to whip her?" asked Prudy, looking up through her +tears.</p> + +<p>"I think I must, my child."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope you won't hurt her," said dear little Prudy. "Please to +don't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Miss Parker struck Nancy with a piece of whalebone, and hurt her a +good deal. It was the only way to make Nancy remember not to do such a +cruel trick again.</p> + +<p>When Prudy saw how much Nancy was hurt, it was more than her tender +heart could bear. She ran up to Miss Parker, and caught hold of the +skirt of her dress, hiding her head in it.</p> + +<p>"O, Miss Parker!" said she, "I've got to cry. Nanny won't do so no +more. The toad was just as alive as could be, but it never bit a bit! +O, <i>won't you please to don't!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY'S PICNIC</h2> + + +<p>This was about the last of Prudy's going to school. In the first place +she was very tired of it, in the second place it was vacation, and in +the third place the whole family were going to Willowbrook on a visit.</p> + +<p>It was very pleasant at grandpa Parlin's at any time. Such a stout +swing in the big oil-nut tree! Such a beautiful garden, with a +summer-house in it! Such a nice cosy seat in the trees! So many "cubby +holes" all about to hide in!</p> + +<p>But this summer I speak of was pleasanter than ever; for the Western +cousins,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> Grace and Horace Clifford, had come from Indiana to visit +their friends in Maine. The Parlin children had not seen them for two +years; but Grace and Susy became fast friends in a very short time, +while little Prudy was thrown one side for Horace to take care of when +he could stop.</p> + +<p>"O dear suz," said she, one morning, "I'm so glad there happened to be +a world, and God made me!"</p> + +<p>"What, you here, Prudy?" said grandma Parlin. "What made you get up so +early?"</p> + +<p>"O, the flies waked me, I s'pose. I was dreaming about my <i>pignig</i>. I +thought I had it on top o' the trees."</p> + +<p>"Ah, it's the day for Grace's party, sure enough," said her +grandmother, sighing a little, and stirring faster at her drop-cake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You mean <i>my</i> party," said Prudy, dancing around the table. "The +party b'longs to me. You didn't know that, <i>did</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"You'd better go and talk to your aunt Madge," said grandma, "I'm +busy."</p> + +<p>"O," said Prudy, "I guess you ain't glad I got up. I tried to keep +asleep, grandma, but the flies waked me."</p> + +<p>Prudy was going out of the room, but turned and came back.</p> + +<p>"Grandma," said she, "if you love me, why don't you hug me?"</p> + +<p>"O, I can't stop, dear," said grandma, laughing; "we can't hug little +girls all the time."</p> + +<p>But she did it.</p> + +<p>After a while Grace, and Horace, and Susy came down stairs, and then +there was a great time. As soon as breakfast was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> over, kind aunt +Madge promised to make out a list of the little folks to be invited.</p> + +<p>"First of all," said she, "are you going to have boys and girls, or +only girls?"</p> + +<p>"O, we don't want any boys," said cousin Grace, tossing her head; +"they race round, and act so."</p> + +<p>"Of course we don't want 'em," said Susy. "I'd laugh if we'd got to +have a lot of noisy boys."</p> + +<p>"Poh! we don't want boys," echoed Prudy. "They are pickin' fusses all +the time."</p> + +<p>Cousin Horace stood by aunt Madge's chair, looking quite forlorn, but +too proud to say a word.</p> + +<p>"See here, Horace," said Grace, very grandly, "we think you'd better +go a-strawberrying to-day."</p> + +<p>"I reckon I won't if I don't want to,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> said Horace, working the flag +out of his cap. He knew the girls thought he was almost always in the +way.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you something, Horace," said aunt Madge, stroking his +hair. "Mr. Allen is going out to North Pond with some other gentleman, +fishing, and I begged him to let you go; and he said he would, though +he wouldn't take the girls for any thing."</p> + +<p>"There, girls," cried Horace, with beaming face. "Did Mr. Allen truly +say so, auntie? Of course he wouldn't have girls go. If we caught a +fish, how they would scream; wouldn't they, though?"</p> + +<p>Horace darted off to find Mr. Allen, and so he was out of the girls' +way.</p> + +<p>"Now," said aunt Madge, smiling, "tell me what girls you want to ask, +Grace."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>So they gave several names—Grace and Susy—which Prudy repeated after +them.</p> + +<p>"But where is Abby Grant?" said aunt Madge. "Don't you want her?"</p> + +<p>Grace and Susy looked at each other without speaking. Prudy looked at +them.</p> + +<p>"I don't go with such poor girls when I'm home," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Nor I don't," said Susy.</p> + +<p>"Nor me neither," chimed in little Prudy, glad to know what to say.</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge shook her curly head. "I guess you mustn't have a party," +said she, "if you slight good little girls because they are poor. Why, +I should ask her a great deal quicker, because it isn't often she has +any thing nice to eat at home."</p> + +<p>"So would I," said Grace, looking ashamed. "You may put her name down, +auntie."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, put her name down, auntie," said Prudy.</p> + +<p>Such a time as there was to get ready for that party! Aunt Madge and +aunt Louise worked with all their might, cooking nice things, and the +children were too happy to keep still. Susy's mother had gone back to +Portland.</p> + +<p>When the first little girl arrived, Grace and Susy hadn't the +slightest idea what to do with her, and aunt Madge had to go in and +set them to playing "Puss in the corner."</p> + +<p>The next girl that came was Abby Grant.</p> + +<p>"I s'posed ye wouldn't come," said Prudy. "We never asked you."</p> + +<p>"Why, child," said Grace, blushing, "yes we did ask her, too."</p> + +<p>"O, so we did," said foolish little Prudy. "We asked you, Abby, 'cause +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> don't get any thing nice to eat to your house!"</p> + +<p>Grace didn't shake Prudy, only because she didn't dare to. In a few +minutes all the little girls had come, and the whole party went into +the front yard to play. Aunt Madge made believe she was a little girl, +and played "Ring Round Rosy," "Catch," and "Button," as hard as any +body. When they had played till they were all out of breath, aunt +Louise sent them to the summer-house in the garden to rest, while she +and aunt Madge set the table in the front yard. O, the apple puffs, +and lemon tarts, and little seed cakes, and frosted cake, and candy, +looked so good to poor little Abby Grant! Then the raspberries, like +red coral, and the white currants, like round pearls! Then the +flowers, fresh from the garden!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>The children sat on the double steps of the long piazza to eat their +supper. They had plenty of room, and it was nice fun to peep round the +great white pillars at their neighbors' plates, and whisper to one +another, "I'm having a grand time, ain't you?" "What splendid cake!" +"Don't you wish you lived here?"</p> + +<p>And the two aunties smiled, and said to each other,—</p> + +<p>"It is worth all our trouble to see these children so happy."</p> + +<p>After the table was cleared away they sang several pieces, and Prudy's +sweet little voice filled all the pauses with some funny little chorus +of her own.</p> + +<p>When the party broke up, the children were quite tired out, and glad +to go to bed.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Grace, as they went slowly upstairs, "didn't my picnic go +off nicely?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> pignig?" said Prudy; "why it b'longs to <i>me</i>! I had it +myself."</p> + +<p>"Hush," said Susy. "Cousin Grace came two thousand miles to see us, +and grandma promised her this party, and she had it."</p> + +<p>"There, now, Susy," said Prudy, much grieved, "I've got a cent, and I +<i>was</i> goin' to buy you some shiny shoes, but now I shan't."</p> + +<p>Grace and Susy could not help laughing, and poor tired little Prudy +could not bear that.</p> + +<p>"There," cried she, "don't you do that again! If you'll say 'twas <i>my</i> +pignig, Susy Parlin, then I'll kiss you; but if you say it isn't, I +won't speak to you again—never in my world!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it wasn't your picnic—so there," said Susy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Prudy settled her cheek to the pillow.</p> + +<p>"Susy Parlin," said she, drowsily, "I ain't a-goin' to speak to you +again—till—you—say—'twas—my—pig——"</p> + +<p>But in the middle of a word Prudy made a mistake and dropped off to +sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY IN THE PINES</h2> + + +<p>"No, my dears," said grandma. "I couldn't consent to let you go +strawberrying 'up by the Pines' as you call it. It is Mr. Judkins's +mowing-field."</p> + +<p>"But, grandma," said Grace, "Johnny Gordon went there yesterday, and +there wasn't any fuss about it."</p> + +<p>"Then you may be sure Mr. Judkins did not know it," said grandma. "If +he should catch any children in his field, he would be sure to give +them a severe scolding."</p> + +<p>"Besides," chimed in aunt Madge,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> "Prudy isn't fit to walk so far—she +isn't very well."</p> + +<p>"No, she is quite out of sorts," said grandma. "So if you must go +somewhere, you may take your little baskets and go out in the meadow +on the other side of the cornfield. Only take good care of Prudy; now +remember."</p> + +<p>"Grandma always says that over," said Susy, as the three children were +on their way to the meadow; "and aunt Madge always says it too—'take +care of Prudy!' As if she were a little baby."</p> + +<p>"That is all because she cries so much, I presume," said Grace, +looking at poor Prudy rather sternly. "I did hope, Susy, that when +Horace went down to the 'crick' fishing, you and I might go off by +ourselves, and have a nice time for once. But here is 'little Pitcher' +right at our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> heels. We never can have any peace. Little Miss Somebody +thinks she must follow, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the way it is," said Susy. "Some folks are always round, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Now, Susy," said Prudy, forcing back her tears as well as she could, +"I guess you don't love your little sister, or you wouldn't talk that +way to me."</p> + +<p>They gathered strawberries for a while in silence, Prudy picking more +leaves than berries, and sometimes, in her haste to keep up with the +others, pulling up grass by the roots.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think much of this," said Grace; "there ain't more than +ten strawberries in this meadow, and those ain't bigger than peas."</p> + +<p>"O, I know it," said Susy, in the tone of one who has made up her mind +for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> worst. "I suppose we've got to stay here, though. We could go +up in the Pines now if it wasn't for Prudy, and they are real thick up +there."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Grace, "but grandma knew we couldn't without she would be +sure to follow. Do you think Mr. Judkins would be likely to scold, +Susy?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Susy, eating a dry strawberry. "He keeps sheep, and +goes round talking to himself. I ain't a bit afraid of him. What could +we little girls do to his grass, I'd like to know? It isn't as if we +were great, rude boys, is it, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Grace, thoughtfully. "Now if we could only get rid of +Prudy——"</p> + +<p>Little Prudy pushed back her "shaker," and looked up, showing a pair +of flushed cheeks damp with tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't think you are very polite to me," said the child. "Bime-by I +shall go to heaven, and I shan't never come back any more, and then I +guess you'll cry."</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" said Grace, looking at Susy; "we mustn't take her, +and we can't go without her."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm a-goin' right straight home, right off—that's what I'm +goin' to do," said Prudy, "and when I say my prayers, I shall just +tell God how naughty you be!"</p> + +<p>Prudy turned short about, and the girls went toward the Pines, feeling +far from happy, for a "still, small voice" told them they were doing +wrong.</p> + +<p>They had got about half way up the hill, when, looking back, there was +Prudy, puffing and running for dear life.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had gone home," said Susy, quite vexed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't," said Prudy, who had got her smiles all back again; +"I couldn't get home—'cause—I got my feet 'most damp and some wet. I +won't be no trouble, Susy."</p> + +<p>So the girls made the best of it, and helped little "Mother Bunch" up +the long, steep hill. Prudy had one hearty cry before the long walk +was over. "Her nose fell on a rock," she said; but as it was only +grazed a little, she soon forgot about it.</p> + +<p>"This is something worth while, now," said Grace, after they had at +last reached the field, and were seated in the tall grass. "The +strawberries are as thick as spatter."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Susy, "and grandma and aunt Madge will be so glad to see +our baskets full they'll certainly be glad we didn't stay in the +meadow. Big as your thumb, ain't they?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_01.jpg" width="500" height="706" alt="Flying From The Field. Page 54 ." /> +<span class="caption">Flying From The Field. <a href="#Page_54">Page 54 .</a></span></div> +<p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>You see the girls were trying to stifle that still, small voice, and +they tried to believe they were having a good time.</p> + +<p>Grace and Susy had got their baskets nearly half full, and Prudy had +covered the bottom of hers with leaves, stems, and a few berries, when +a man's voice was heard muttering, not far off.</p> + +<p>"O Grace," whispered Susy, "that's Mr. Judkins!"</p> + +<p>He carried a whetstone, on which he was sharpening his jackknife.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said he, talking to himself, and not appearing to notice the +girls, "I never would have thought that these little children—ah, +would have come into my field—ah, and trampled down my grass! I shall +hate—ah, to cut off their little ears—ah, and see the blood running +down!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>I suppose it was not two minutes before the children had left that +field, pulling the screaming Prudy through the bars as roughly as if +she had been a sack of wool instead of flesh and blood,—their hair +flying in the wind, and their poor little hearts pounding against +their sides like trip-hammers. If the field had been on fire they +could not have run faster, dragging helpless Prudy, who screamed all +the way at the very top of her voice.</p> + +<p>Susy and Prudy had thrown away their pretty little baskets. Grace had +pushed hers up her arm, and her sleeve was soaking in the red juice of +the bruised strawberries, while little streams of juice were trickling +down her nice, buff-colored dress, ruining it entirely.</p> + +<p>"You hadn't ought to have took me up there," sobbed Prudy, as soon as +she could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> find her voice; and these were the first words spoken.</p> + +<p>"O, hush, hush right up!" cried Susy, in terror. "He's after us, to +take us to jail."</p> + +<p>The family were really frightened when the panting children rushed +into the house in such a plight.</p> + +<p>"It was a crazy drunk man," cried Prudy, "and he had a axe——"</p> + +<p>"No," said Grace, "it was that wicked Mr. Judkins, and it was his +jackknife."</p> + +<p>"And he snips off your ears and nose," broke in Prudy, "and blood +comes a-runnin' down, and he kills you dead, and then he puts you in +jail, and then he chased us—don't you hear him comin'?"</p> + +<p>"What does all this mean?" cried grandma and aunt Madge in one +breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> "Have you been in that mowing-field, children?"</p> + +<p>Grace and Susy hung their heads.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they did," said Prudy, "and I wasn't well, and they shouldn't +have gone and took me up there, and 'twas 'cause they were naughty."</p> + +<p>"What shall I do with children that disobey me in this manner?" said +grandma, much displeased.</p> + +<p>"Worst of all," said aunt Madge, pulling off Prudy's shoes, "this +child has got her feet wet, and is sure to be sick."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY SICK</h2> + + +<p>When aunt Madge went up stairs that night she found little Prudy +hiding her head under the pillow, and screaming with fright.</p> + +<p>"O, there I was!" cried the child, tossing up her arms, "all tumbled +out of the window! And the man got me, and I begun to be dead!"</p> + +<p>"Why no, darling!" said aunt Madge, "here is auntie close by you, and +here you are in your pretty white bed;—don't you see?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" screamed Prudy, "I'm up in the Pines, I ain't here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd like to have me sing to you," said aunt Madge; and she +began, in a low voice, a little ditty Prudy loved:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There was a little darling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I used to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they called her Prudy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long time ago."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Stop, Nancy," said Prudy, "you put a toad in my mouth!—I must have a +drink—dreffully!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge brought some water, but her fingers were not steady, and +the glass trembled against the child's hot lips. She watched till +Prudy dozed again, and then stole softly down stairs to get a "night +candle," and to tell her mother she was really afraid Prudy was going +to be sick.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Parlin said aunt Madge mustn't be nervous; that children were +very apt to be "out of their heads" in the night,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> and she was pretty +sure Prudy would wake up bright in the morning.</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge tried to hope so, but she hardly slept a wink, for Prudy +tossed and twisted all night. Sometimes she thought she was picking +berries on the tufted coverlet. Sometimes she cried out that "the +crazy man was coming with a axe."</p> + +<p>When grandma saw her purple cheeks by daylight she did not laugh at +aunt Madge. She brushed the soft curls away from the little one's hot +temples, and said softly,—</p> + +<p>"How do you feel, Prudy, darling?"</p> + +<p>A wild light burned in the child's eyes. "It isn't Prudy!" screamed +she, "I ain't her! Go 'way! You're goin' to snip off my nose! O, go +right off!"</p> + +<p>You may be sure that Grace and Susy were far from happy that day. When +they noticed that their grandmother grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> more and more uneasy, and +when they saw the doctor's gig at the gate, their hearts were very +heavy.</p> + +<p>"O Grace," said Susy, sobbing, "Prudy thought we didn't love her! We +kept saying she was always round. How much do you suppose she is +sick?"</p> + +<p>"O dear, I don't know," said Grace, wringing her hands; "but I'll tell +you one thing—we ought to have seen to her, Susy!"</p> + +<p>"O Grace," said Susy, "you don't begin to feel so bad as I do—you +can't, because you haven't got any little sister. Only think of my +scolding to such a darling little thing as she is!"</p> + +<p>"Come, you go up stairs and see what the doctor says," said Grace; +"you steal in easy."</p> + +<p>"O, I don't dare to," whispered Susy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> "I'm all of a tremble." But the +moment their grandmother's step was heard in the passage they flew to +her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin set her vial down on the hall table. "I don't like to tell +you," said she, shaking her head sadly; "the doctor calls her a very +sick child, and says he is afraid of brain fever."</p> + +<p>"Do they die with that?" cried Susy, seizing hold of her grandmother's +dress. "O, stop a minute; is she going to die?"</p> + +<p>"We hope not," said Mrs. Parlin, "but she is so sick that we shall +send a despatch for your mother. I want you to try and keep the house +still, girls, and coax Horace to stay out of doors."</p> + +<p>"Keep the house still? I guess we will!" said Grace. "O grandma, will +you forgive us for being so naughty yesterday?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can you forgive us?" said Susy. "I tell you we feel awfully about it, +grandma!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin took off her spectacles to wipe them. "My dear children," +said she, gravely, "I am ready to forgive you with all my heart; but I +hope that before this you have asked pardon of your dear Father in +heaven. That is the first thing, you know."</p> + +<p>Susy stole off into the nursery, and threw herself on the lounge.</p> + +<p>"O God," sobbed she, "I should think you would hate me, I have acted +so bad! O, can you forgive me, and not take Prudy? I never will do so +again! I didn't mean any thing when I said she was always round. O, +<i>don't</i> let her die and be put in the ground! Please don't, dear God! +Seems to me I love her the best of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> any body. When we have any fuss, +it's always me that's to blame."</p> + +<p>Here Susy's prayer was drowned in sobs; but her heart felt a little +lighter because she had told her kind Father just how she felt, and if +it was best for Prudy to get well, she was sure he would save her.</p> + +<p>Prudy's mother came in the cars that night, looking pale and troubled. +Prudy did not know her.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you bring my own mamma?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Look at me, darling," said her mother, "here I am, right here. Mother +won't leave her little Prudy again."</p> + +<p>"I ain't Prudy!" screamed the child; "Prudy's gone to heaven. God came +and helped her up the steps."</p> + +<p>One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her little +daughter's beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, sister Madge," said she, "you can't guess how it makes my heart +ache to have my child take me for a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she may know you to-morrow," said aunt Madge; though in her +heart she had very little hope of the child.</p> + +<p>But Prudy did not know any body "to-morrow," nor the next day, nor the +next. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! The +terrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks looked +as if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildly +her eyes shone like flames.</p> + +<p>A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sit +by the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> about dear little +Prudy. Horace had the heartache, too, and asked every day,—</p> + +<p>"<i>Do</i> you think she's going to die?"</p> + +<p>Nobody could answer him, and he had to wait, like all the rest.</p> + +<p>But God did not mean that Prudy should die. At last, after many days, +the fever died out like a fire when it has burned the wood all down to +cinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if a +breath would blow her away like white ashes. I think a little baby, +that tips over if you touch it, could not be weaker than Prudy was +when she began to get well.</p> + +<p>Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, though +never so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lips +like a note of music.</p> + +<p>Her father and mother, and the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> family, were full of joy, and +Grace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over the +pretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should be +well enough to enjoy them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY'S PRESENT</h2> + + +<p>"Well, dear," said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out of +breath, "what did you call me for? What do you want, little one?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Prudy, "but I guess <i>I shall</i> want somethin' by +and by."</p> + +<p>"There, there, darling," said grandma, "don't cry."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," said Prudy, trying to stop. "I was a-talkin' to myself, +and I said, 'I won't cry no more,' and then I cried. I don't like to +stay in this country,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!"</p> + +<p>"Of all things," said grandma, "I don't believe there's a little girl +any where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, and +oranges, and lemons, and——"</p> + +<p>"Well, if I wasn't sick, grandma, and you should ask me to eat some +<i>smashed potatoes</i>, and some <i>pie</i>, I'd eat 'em," said Prudy, smiling +through her tears.</p> + +<p>"Bless your little heart," cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek. +"Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shall +I bring you to look at?"</p> + +<p>"O, now I know what it is I want," replied Prudy, lifting her head +from the pillow, "I want to eat up the <i>old lady</i>!"</p> + +<p>Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out of +candy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, that's made to be looked at," said grandma. "Let's see—where do +you suppose your little Zip is nowadays? I guess he misses Prudy."</p> + +<p>"I don' know—I <i>ate</i> a little dog once," said Prudy, wiping her eyes. +"He was made out of a doughnut. Once when I lived to Portland—to my +mother's Portland—I used to eat things."</p> + +<p>Poor grandma herself could hardly keep from crying to see Prudy so +hungry.</p> + +<p>"Here is some nice arrow-root," said she. "You may have it all if you +like. You are a darling little girl not to tease for things you ought +not to have."</p> + +<p>"I believe," she went on, looking at patient little Prudy, as she +drained the bowl, "I should like to give such a good child a pretty +present."</p> + +<p>"O, dear me suz!" screamed Prudy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> "I'm glad I didn't go to heaven +yet.—Will it be a little wee doll that can live in a thimble?—made +out of sugar?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said grandma, "I don't know, You may be thinking all day what +you would like best. Not to <i>eat</i>, dear, but to <i>keep</i>, remember. Now +I must go down stairs—but here come Grace and Susy, so you won't be +lonesome."</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to see how softly the little girls entered the room, +and how the glad smiles came and went on Prudy's face when they tried +to amuse her.</p> + +<p>They were dressed in a very funny rig. Susy looked a great deal wiser +than an owl, out of a pair of spectacles without any eyes, and a +flaring cap. Grace had stuck some false hair on her head, and a bonnet +that looked as if a wagon wheel had rolled over it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fine day, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace; "how have you been, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I've been a-thinkin'," said Prudy, smiling, "about my present."</p> + +<p>"You see we've come a-visiting, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace. "Very sorry, +ma'am, to see your doll looking so sick. Has she got the smallpox?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," answered Prudy, delighted, "she's got the measles!"</p> + +<p>"Deary me," said Susy, pushing back her cap, and trying to look +frightened, "how was she taken, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Taken?" repeated Prudy, "taken <i>sick</i>! She's got it all over her."</p> + +<p>"Poor little creeter!" cried Grace, rolling up her eyes, "how she must +suffer! I hope she's out of her head. Does she have her senses, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Her <i>what</i>?" said Prudy. "O, yes'm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> she's got 'em. I laid 'em up on +the shelf, to keep 'em for her."</p> + +<p>Here the two visitors turned away their heads to laugh. "What do you +s'pose my present will be?" said Prudy, forgetting their play. "Look +here, Susy, I could take that vase now, and smash it right down on the +floor, and break it, and grandma wouldn't scold—'cause I'm sick, you +know."</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't do it," said Grace. "O, here come Mr. Allen and aunt +Madge. Now, Mrs. Prudy, you're going to have a ride."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen laughed to see aunt Madge bundle Prudy so much, and said the +child would be so heavy that he could not carry her in his arms; but I +think he found her only too light after all.</p> + +<p>Prudy almost forgot how hungry she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> was when she was seated in her +little carriage and wheeled about the pleasant yard. She had an idea +that the trees and the flowers in the garden were having good times, +and the open windows of the house looked as if they were laughing. But +she did not say much, and when aunt Madge asked her what made her so +quiet, she said she was "a-thinkin'." And the most of her small +thoughts were about her present.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Mr. Allen, "I'm going to hold you up so you can peep over +into the pig-pen. There, do you see that little mite of a white +piggy?"</p> + +<p>"O, dear, dear, dear!" cried Prudy, clapping her hands, "what a +cunning little piggy-wiggy! He looks nice enough to eat right up! I +never did see such a darling! O, he winks his eyes—see him! He ain't +dead, is he? Not a mite?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, my little dear, he's alive enough, if that's all," said Mr. +Allen.</p> + +<p>"O, my stars!" said Prudy, sighing with delight. "Don't you wish you +had such a pretty pink nose, and such little bits of shiny eyes?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen laughed.</p> + +<p>"O, so white and nice!" added Prudy. "He hasn't got a speck of red +cheeks, 'cept his nose and little toes. Mayn't he have one of my +oranges? I never did see any thing look so much like a sugar pig."</p> + +<p>It did Mr. Allen and aunt Madge a world of good to see the child so +pleased.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said she, eagerly, "who that piggy b'longs to?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to grandpa, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"O," said Prudy, very sadly, while the bright color died out of her +cheeks at once,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> "I didn't know but it b'longed to grandma."</p> + +<p>"Well, you little pet," said aunt Madge, laughing, "what do you care +who it <i>b'longs</i> to? You can look at it all the same, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"But," said Prudy, "do you s'pose——"</p> + +<p>"S'pose what?"</p> + +<p>"Do you s'pose if grandpa thought I was a darlin'——" Prudy could get +no farther.</p> + +<p>"Of course he <i>knows</i> you're a darling!" said aunt Madge.</p> + +<p>"Do you s'pose when I don't tease for things to eat, and grandma says +I may think what I want for a present, he'd be willing I should +have—she should give me that—<i>piggy</i>?"</p> + +<p>"O, what a Prudy!" said aunt Madge, laughing till she cried. "Isn't +there something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> nicer you would like for a present? You'd better +think again."</p> + +<p>"O, no, no," said Prudy, trembling with eagerness. "If grandma should +give me a house full of dolls and candy all rolled up, and every +single present in the world, I'd rather have that piggy."</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said Mr. Allen, "I guess the folks that wouldn't give +their pigs away to Prudy don't live here. Let's go and see."</p> + +<p>They went into the house to see grandpa. Of course he said Yes.</p> + +<p>"Of all the funny presents!" said grandma;—but Prudy was happy, and +that was enough.</p> + +<p>Grandpa was very kind, but there was one thing he would not consent +to—he would not let the pig come into the house. But as he said he +would be sure to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> good care of it, and give it sweet milk to +drink, Prudy did not mind so much.</p> + +<p>When she grew stronger she fed it herself, and the pretty creature +knew her, and was glad to see her, Prudy thought. Now she had a great +many presents that summer, but none that pleased her half so well as +the little pet pig.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY FISHING</h2> + + +<p>One morning, after Prudy was quite well, aunt Madge told her she might +go into the garden and get some currants. While she was picking with +all her might, and breathing very fast, she saw Horace close by, on +the other side of the fence, with a pole in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I thought you was to school!" cried Prudy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't," said Horace, pulling his hat over his eyes, and +looking ashamed. "The teacher don't keep no order, and I won't go to +such a school, so there!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They don't want <i>me</i> to go," said Prudy, "'cause I should know too +much. I can say all my letters now, right down straight, 'thout +looking on, either."</p> + +<p>"O, ho!" cried Horace, trailing his long pole, "you can't say 'em +skipping about, and I shouldn't care, if I was you. But you ought to +know how to fish, Miss. Don't you wish you could drop in your line, +and catch 'em the way I do?"</p> + +<p>"Do they like to have you catch 'em?" said Prudy, dropping her little +dipper, and going to the fence; "don't it hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Hurt? Not as I know of. They needn't bite if they don't want to."</p> + +<p>"No," returned Prudy, looking very wise, "I s'pose they want to get +out, and that's why they bite. Of course when fishes stay in the water +much it makes 'em drown."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, my stars!" cried Horace, laughing, "you ought to live 'out west,' +you're such a cunning little spud. Come, now, here's another fish-pole +for you. I'll show you how to catch one, and I bet 'twill be a +pollywog—you're just big enough."</p> + +<p>"But grandma didn't say I might go down to the river. Wait till I go +ask her."</p> + +<p>"Poh!" said Horace, "no you needn't; I have to hurry. Grandma <i>always</i> +likes it when you go with me, Prudy, because you see I'm a boy, and +she knows I can take care of you twice as well as Grace and Susy can."</p> + +<p>"O," cried Prudy, clapping her little hands, "they won't any of 'em +know I can fish, and how they'll laugh. But there, now, they don't let +me climb the fence—I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Well, give us your bonnet, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> you 'scooch' down, and I'll pull +you through."</p> + +<p>"There," said the naughty boy, when they had got down to the river, +"now I've been and put a bait on the end of your hook, and I plump it +in the water—so. You just hold on to the pole."</p> + +<p>"But it jiggles—it tips me!" cried Prudy; and as she spoke she fell +face downwards on the bank.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's smart!" said Horace, picking her up. "There, you sit +down next time, and I'll prop up the pole with a rock—this way. +There, now, you hold it a little easy, and when you feel a nibble you +let me know."</p> + +<p>"What's a nibble?" asked Prudy, shaking the line.</p> + +<p>"A nibble? Why, it's a bite."</p> + +<p>They sat quite still for some minutes, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> hot sun glaring on Prudy's +bare head with its rings of soft golden hair.</p> + +<p>"Now, now!" cried she suddenly, "I've got a nibble!"</p> + +<p>Horace sprang to draw up her line.</p> + +<p>"I feel it right here on my neck," said the child; "I s'pose it's a +fly."</p> + +<p>"Now, look here," said Horace, rather vexed, "you're a little too bad. +You made me drop my line just when I was going to have a nibble. Wait +till you feel the string wiggle, and then speak, but don't scream."</p> + +<p>The children sat still for a few minutes longer, and no sound was +heard but now and then a wagon going over the bridge. But they might +as well have dropped their lines in the sand for all the fish they +caught. Horace began to wish he had gone to school.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O dear!" groaned Prudy, getting tired, "I never did see such fishes. +I guess they don't want to be catched."</p> + +<p>"There, now you've spoke again, and scared one away," said Horace. "If +it hadn't been for you I should have got, I don't know how many, by +this time."</p> + +<p>Prudy's lip began to tremble, and two big round tears rose to her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poh! crying about that?" said Horace; "you're a nice little girl if +you do talk too much, so don't you cry."</p> + +<p>Horace rather enjoyed seeing Grace and Susy in tears, but could never +bear to have Prudy cry.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," said Horace, when Prudy's eyes were clear +again, "I don't think I make much playing hookey."</p> + +<p>"I don't like playing 'hookey' neither,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> returned Prudy, "'cause the +hooks won't catch 'em."</p> + +<p>"O, you don't know what I mean," laughed Horace. "When we boys 'out +west' stay out of school, we call <i>that</i> playing hookey."</p> + +<p>"O, do you? But I want to go home now, if we can't catch any nibbles."</p> + +<p>"No, I'll tell you what we'll do—we'll walk out on that log, and try +it there."</p> + +<p>The river was quite high, and this was one of the logs that had +drifted down from the "Rips." Prudy was really afraid to walk on it, +because it was "so round," but not liking to be laughed at, she crept +on her hands and knees to the very end of the log, trembling all the +way.</p> + +<p>Horace took the two poles and followed; but the moment he stepped on +the log it rolled quite over, carrying Prudy under.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>I do not know what Horace thought then, but he had to think fast. If +he had been older he might have plunged in after Prudy, but he was +only a little boy, seven years old, so he ran for the house. O, how he +ran!</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge was ironing in the back kitchen. She heard heavy breathing, +and the quick pattering of feet, and the words gasped out, "Prudy's in +the river!"</p> + +<p>"Prudy!" screamed aunt Madge, looking wildly at the boy's face, which +was as white as death.</p> + +<p>"Run, tell grandpa!" cried she, and flew down the steps, and out +across the field towards the river, as if she had wings on her +slippers, though it seemed to her they were clogged with lead.</p> + +<p>"Has she just been saved from death only to be drowned?" was one of +the quick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> thoughts that rushed across aunt Madge's dizzy brain. "I +shall be too late! too late! And her mother gone! God forgive me! It +is I who should have watched her!"</p> + +<p>Poor aunt Madge! as if any one was to blame but Horace.</p> + +<p>There was a child crying down by the river.</p> + +<p>"Not Prudy," thought aunt Madge. "It sounds like her voice, but it +can't be. She has sunk by this time!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid, Prudy!" cried Mr. Allen, who was just behind aunt +Madge, "we are running to you."</p> + +<p>The cry came up louder: it was Prudy's voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen leaped the fence at a bound, and ran down the bank. The +child was out of the water, struggling to climb the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> bank, but +slipping back at every step. She was dripping wet, and covered with +sand.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen lifted her in his arms, and there she lay, sobbing as if her +heart would break, but not speaking a word.</p> + +<p>When she was lying, clean and warm, in soft blankets, and had had a +nap, she told them how she got out.</p> + +<p>"The log kept jiggling," said she, "and I couldn't hold on, but I did. +I thought my father would say I was a nice little girl not to get +drowned, and let the fishes eat me up, and so I kept a-holdin' on."</p> + +<p>"Only think," said grandma, shuddering, and looking at Horace, "if +Prudy hadn't held on!"</p> + +<p>Horace seemed very sad and humble, and was still quite pale.</p> + +<p>"It makes you feel mortified, don't it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> 'Race?" said Prudy, smiling; +"don't you feel as if you could cry?"</p> + +<p>At these first words little Prudy had spoken to him since she fell +into the water, the boy ran out of the room, and hid in the green +chamber, for he never would let any one see him cry.</p> + +<p>"O, won't you forgive him?" said Prudy, looking up into Mrs. +Clifford's face; "won't you forgive him, aunt 'Ria? he feels so bad; +and he didn't catch a fish, and he didn't mean to,—and—'twas the log +that jiggled."</p> + +<p>So Horace was forgiven for Prudy's sake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h2>THE HATCHET STORY</h2> + + +<p>One night the children clustered about their aunt Madge, begging for a +story.</p> + +<p>"Fairy, you know," said Susy.</p> + +<p>"A fairy story?" repeated aunt Madge. "I don't know about that. I told +a little boy a fairy story once, and he went right off and whispered +to his mother that I was a very wicked lady, for that story wasn't +true, not a bit; and if a baby six months old should hear it, he +wouldn't believe a word of it!"</p> + +<p>"Poh! he was a smart boy," cried Horace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So I am afraid to tell fairy stories since that, for I don't like to +be called a wicked lady, you know."</p> + +<p>"There, now, auntie," said Susy, "don't you s'pose we know they're +only play-stories? Just as if we hadn't a speck of sense!"</p> + +<p>"Well, let me see," said aunt Madge, covering her eyes with her +fingers. "Once upon a time when the moon was full——"</p> + +<p>"Full of what?" said Prudy, who was leaning on the arm of her auntie's +chair, and peeping up into her face, "full of fairies?"</p> + +<p>"When the moon was round, my child," said auntie, stroking the little one's +hair. "But wait. I'll tell a story Prudy can understand—wouldn't you, my +dears? When I was a little girl——"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_02.jpg" width="500" height="679" alt="Aunt Madge telling a Story. Page 90 ." /> +<span class="caption">Aunt Madge telling a Story. <a href="#Page_90">Page 90 .</a></span></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's right," cried the children. "O, tell about that."</p> + +<p>"Was you about as big as me?" said Prudy, "and was your name <i>little +Madge</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they called me little Madge sometimes, and sometimes Maggie. +When I was about as old as our Susy, I happened to go into the +back-room one day, and saw uncle Edward's hatchet lying on the +meat-block. I knew I had no right to touch it, but it came into my +head that I would try to break open the clams. The hatchet, instead of +cracking the shells, came down with full force on my foot! I had on +thick boots, but it cut through my right boot deep into the bone. O, +how I screamed!"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought you would, auntie," cried Grace, fairly turning +pale. "Did it bring the blood?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! Why, when I went into the kitchen, my footsteps were +tracked with little pools of blood, oozing out of my boot. Sister +Maria screamed out,—'O, look at Maggie! She's cut her foot with that +hatchet!'"</p> + +<p>"'No, no, I haven't,' said I, for I was frightened almost to death, +and afraid of being punished for disobedience. You see father had +forbidden us little ones ever to touch the hatchet."</p> + +<p>"Why, you told a right up and down——fib," said Susy, looking +shocked.</p> + +<p>"A real whopper," said Horace, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"So I did, children, and before my story is done you shall see what +misery my sin caused me."</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. 'Gustus Allen know about it?" asked little Prudy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guess not," replied aunt Madge, blushing. "He lived ever so far off +then."</p> + +<p>"O dear," sighed Prudy, "I wish he hadn't gone to the wars. How it +made you cry!"</p> + +<p>"Hush up, please, can't you, Prudy?" said Susy. "Aunt Madge is telling +a story."</p> + +<p>"Well, they sent for the doctor in great haste, and then tried to pull +off my boot; but my foot was so badly swollen, and bleeding so fast, +that it took a great while. I can't tell how long, for I fainted. When +the doctor saw the wound they said he looked very sober."</p> + +<p>"'So, so, little girl,' said he (that was after I came to myself), +'you thought you'd make me a good job while you were about it. There's +no half-way work about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> you. You are the child that had the tip of a +finger clipped off in the corn-sheller, hey?'"</p> + +<p>"I was always afraid of Dr. Foster, so I only buried my face in my +apron, and cried."</p> + +<p>"'She must have brought the hatchet down with a great deal of force,' +said the doctor. 'See, Mrs. Parlin, how deep it went into the bone.'"</p> + +<p>"'I fell and hit my foot,' I sobbed out. 'I never <i>touched</i> the +hatchet!'"</p> + +<p>"I knew well enough that the doctor didn't believe me."</p> + +<p>"'So, so,' said he. 'Very well, never mind how 'twas done, but keep +your foot still, little one, and we'll talk about the hatchet another +time. Mrs. Parlin, if it goes to bleeding again, be sure to send for +me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>"It was ever so long before I could walk a step. Every time any body +spoke of my hurt, I said, 'Why, I was just coming into the house with +those clams, and my foot slipped, and I fell and hit me on something. +I don't know whether it was a hatchet or a stick of wood; but I never +touched the hatchet!'"</p> + +<p>"There, I shouldn't have thought that of <i>you</i>, auntie," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Poh!" cried Horace, "they must have known you was a-foolin'; of +course they did!"</p> + +<p>"Well, every time the doctor came to see me, he laughed and asked me +how I cut my foot."</p> + +<p>"'Just the same as I did in the first place, you know,' said I. 'I +don't know nothing about it, only I never touched the hatchet!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>"'Well,' he would answer, 'you remember the old saying, A lie well +stuck to, is better than the truth wavering.'"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know what that meant, but he laughed so that I knew he was +making sport of me. I knew nobody believed me. The hatchet had been +found red with blood, and mother looked, O, so sad! but I had told +that falsehood so many times that it did seem as if I hadn't any +courage left to tell the truth. It had grown to be very easy to keep +saying, I never <i>touched</i> the hatchet.'"</p> + +<p>"Makes me think of that play, 'My father's lost his hatchet,'" +whispered Susy to Grace.</p> + +<p>"Every one tried to amuse me while I was sick, but there was always a +thorn in my pillow."</p> + +<p>"A thorn?" said Prudy.</p> + +<p>"Not a real thorn, dear. I mean I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> told a wrong story, and I +couldn't feel happy."</p> + +<p>Here Susy turned away her head and looked out of the window, though +she saw nothing there but grandpa coming in from the garden with a +watering-pot.</p> + +<p>"Whenever father looked at me, I felt just as if he was thinking, +'Margaret doesn't tell the truth;' and when mother spoke my name +quick, I was afraid she was going to say something about the hatchet."</p> + +<p>"I got well, only I limped a little. Then it was almost time to think +of making presents for the Christmas tree. I didn't like to have +Christmas come while I was feeling so. People are so good that day, I +thought. That is the time when every body loves you, and spends money +for you. I wanted to confess, and feel <i>clean</i>; but then I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> told +that lie over so many times that I thought I <i>couldn't</i> take it back."</p> + +<p>"I talked it over with myself a great while though, and at last said +I, 'I <i>will</i>; I'll do it!' First, I asked God to forgive me and help +me, and when I had got as far as that, the thing was half done, +children."</p> + +<p>"I went into the parlor where your grandfather was—he wasn't deaf +then. I thought I should choke; but I caught hold of one of the +buttons on his coat, and spoke as fast as I could."</p> + +<p>"'O father,' said I, 'I've told more than a hundred thousand lies. I +<i>did</i> take that hatchet! Will you forgive me?'"</p> + +<p>"Did he?" asked Susy.</p> + +<p>"Forgive! I guess he did! My dear child, it was just what he had been +waiting to do! And, O, I can tell you he talked to me in such a way +about the awful sin of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> lying, that I never, never forgot it, and +shan't, if I live to be a hundred years old."</p> + +<p>"My father had forgiven me: I was sure God had forgiven me too; and +after that, I felt as if I could look people in the face once more, +and I had a splendid time Christmas.—I believe that's about all the +<i>story</i> there is to it, children."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Grace, "I'm much obliged to you, auntie; I think it's +just as nice as a fairy story—don't you, Susy?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Susy, looking confused. "See here, +auntie, I've lost your gold ring!"</p> + +<p>"My ring?" said aunt Madge. "I forgot that I let you take it."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know I asked you for it when you stood by the table making +bread? and it slipped off my finger this afternoon into the water +barrel!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Susy!"</p> + +<p>"And I was a coward, and didn't dare tell you, auntie. I thought maybe +you'd forget I had it, and some time when you asked for it, I was +going to say, 'Hadn't you better take a pair of tongs and see if it +isn't in the water barrel?'"</p> + +<p>"O, Susy!" said aunt Madge.</p> + +<p>"She isn't any worse than me, auntie," said Grace. "Ma asked me how +the mud came on my handkerchief, and I said Prudy wiped my boots with +it. And so she did, auntie, but I told her to; and wasn't I such a +coward for laying it off on little Prudy? I am ashamed—you may +believe I am."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have told me the whole truth now," replied aunt Madge, +"though it does make me feel sad, too, for it's too much like my +hatchet story. O, do remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> from this time, children, and never, +never, <i>dare</i> be <i>cowards</i> again!"</p> + +<p>Just then grandpa Parlin came to the door with a sad face, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Margaret, please come up stairs, and see if you can soothe poor +little Harry by singing. He is so restless that neither Maria nor I +can do any thing with him."</p> + +<p>This baby, Horace's brother, was sick all the time now, and once in a +while Margaret's sweet voice would charm him to sleep when every thing +else failed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h2>MORE STORIES</h2> + + +<p>"I move we have some more stories," said Horace the next evening, as +they were sitting in the twilight. "It's your turn, Gracie."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know but I'd as soon tell a story as not," replied +Grace, pushing back her curls; "I reckon Pincher wants to hear one, he +begins to wag his tail. I can't make up any thing as I go along, but I +can tell a sober, true story."</p> + +<p>"Certain true, black and blue?" asked Prudy, who always <i>would</i> have +something to say, whether she knew what she was talking about or not.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Didn't I ever tell you about our school-dog out West, aunt Madge? You +see it was so queer. I don't know where in the world he came from. He +had one of his eyes put out, and was 'most blind out of the other, and +only a stump of a tail, and didn't know how to get his living like +other dogs."</p> + +<p>"O dear, it was so funny he should take it into his head to come to +school, now wasn't it, auntie? He knew Miss All'n just as well as +could be, and used to go with the rest of the scholars to meet her +every morning; and when she patted him on the head, and said 'Good old +doggie,' it did seem like he'd fly out of his wits."</p> + +<p>"Then when she rang the bell he trotted in just as proud, hanging down +his head as meek as could be. He thought she rang the bell for him as +much as any of the rest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> of the scholars. His seat was right by the +stove on the floor—it <i>wasn't</i> a seat, I mean; and he just lay there +the whole living time, and slept and snored—you see he was so old, +auntie! But then we all loved him, we just loved him so! O dear me, +it's as much as I can do to keep from crying, and I don't know how +<i>any body</i> could help it!"</p> + +<p>"What was I talking about—O, he used to walk round under the seats +just as sly sometimes, and put his nose into the dinner baskets. I +tell you he liked cake, that dog did, and he liked meat and mince pie. +You see he could <i>smell</i>, for his nose was as good as ever it was, and +the girls used to cry sometimes when he picked out the nice things."</p> + +<p>"But then we just loved him so, you know, auntie! Why, we thought he +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> just as good as any body. He never bit nor growled, that dog +didn't, not a mite. There wasn't one of us but he loved,—'specially +Miss All'n."</p> + +<p>"Now wasn't it too bad Mrs. Snell made such a fuss? She didn't love +that dog one speck,—I don't know as she ever saw him,—and she didn't +care whether he was dead or alive. I just know she didn't."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how it was. Sometimes he got locked up all night. He'd +be asleep, you know, by the stove, or else under the seats, and Miss +All'n would forget, and suppose he was gone with the rest of the +scholars."</p> + +<p>"Well, he was a darling old dog, if he <i>did</i> chew up the books! I just +about know he got hungry in the night, or he never would have thought +of it. How did <i>he</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> know it was wrong? he didn't know one letter from +another. He spoiled Jenny Snell's spelling-book, I know, and lots of +readers and things; but what if he did, auntie, now what of it?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't crying any thing about that, I wouldn't have you to think! +But you see Mrs. Snell made a great fuss, and went to her husband and +told him he ought to be shot."</p> + +<p>"That Mr. Snell ought to be shot?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Susy, I shouldn't think you'd feel like laughing or making +fun.—The dog, of <i>course</i>; and they sent for the city marshal. You +know Mr. Garvin, Horace?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the man that scowls so, with the scar on his nose, and a +horse-whip in his hand."</p> + +<p>"Miss All'n cried. She lifted up the lid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> of her desk, and hid her +head, but we all knew she was crying. You see we had such a time about +it. We thought he was going to carry the dog off to some place, and +take care of him like he was his master, or may be shut him up, or +something that way; but, do you believe, he just <i>shot</i> that dog right +in the yard!"</p> + +<p>"How dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, auntie, I reckon it was! We all cried like we should kill +ourselves, and put our fingers in our ears; for we heard the man when +he fired the gun,—I mean we heard the gun when the man fired it,—and +<i>then</i> it was of no use; but we stopped our ears, and Miss All'n hid +her face, and cried—and cried—and cried!"</p> + +<p>"O dear me, it did seem like we didn't any of us want to go to school +any more, if we couldn't see our old dog coming to meet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> us, and rub +his head against our dresses. And it was just as lonesome,—now it was +<i>so</i>, auntie."</p> + +<p>"Poor old doggie!" sighed aunt Madge.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't you, was it, Pincher," cried Horace, seizing his dog by +both ears. "I reckon if they tried to shoot you they'd catch it."</p> + +<p>"Now, Susy, it's your turn," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"No, Horace's; he's the oldest."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" returned Horace, who had been the very first one to propose +stories, "I'd like to get shut of it. Pshaw! I can't think of +nothin'."</p> + +<p>"But you must, you know, Horace; so it's no use to grumble."</p> + +<p>"O shucks! Has it got to be true?"</p> + +<p>"Don't say 'shucks,' Horace," said Grace, gently. "You can tell a true +story,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> or make it up as you go along.—Come, hurry."</p> + +<p>"I know what <i>I'm</i> goin' to tell," whispered Prudy to Horace.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the boy, thinking a moment, "I'll tell my story double +quick, and be done with it."</p> + +<p>"You'd ought to see my pa's horse out West, auntie; there ain't a +Yankee horse can hold a candle to him; I'll leave it to Pincher. His +name is Sancho, and my ma sends him to market mornings, early, with +the basket, and puts some money in, and a note to the butcher, and +that horse comes back, sir, just as fast as he can trot, sir, and he +has the meat there all wrapped up, and just has the basket in his +teeth, this way."</p> + +<p>"Why, Horace Clifford!" cried Grace, in surprise; "why, what a story!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it's a story. You wanted me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> to tell a story, didn't you? I +was just a-blowin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, there, tell something nice, can't you, please?"</p> + +<p>"I've told all the story I'm a-goin' to," said Horace, firmly. "Now +it's Susy's turn."</p> + +<p>"You talk about something else a while," replied Susy, "and let me be +a-thinkin'."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell one," cried Prudy, "let <i>me</i>, now."</p> + +<p>"Once there was goin' to be three balls, and Cindrilla didn't have no +mother, and her father didn't have no wife, so he married him one. And +there was goin' to be three great big balls, and Cindrilla asked her +mother if she couldn't go, and her mother said, No, indeed; she hadn't +nothin' to wear. And then they started off, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> her grandma came,—O, +I forgot, the woman was wicked, and she made her little girls sit in +the parlor, all dressed up spandy clean, and she made Cindrilla sit in +the coal-hod."</p> + +<p>"And then she told her to get a great punkin, and it turned into a +gold hack, and she went off into the back shed and got the rat-trap, +and it turned into two footmens,—and the king's son—O, no——"</p> + +<p>"And then there was some bugs round there, and they was six horses, +and she got in and rode on to the ball, and her shoes come off, and +then the king married her, and she had the other shoe in her pocket, +and he married her right off, and they're all safe now."</p> + +<p>"All safe?" said aunt Madge, laughing; "what do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"O, now she'll have a good father and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> good mother, and won't sit in +the coal-hod no more.—Now it's your turn, Susy."</p> + +<p>"O dear suz! I was going to tell a story, a fairy story. It was going +to be a real good one, about 'The Bravest of Lion's Castle,' and I +couldn't think of a thing to say, and now Prudy has drove it all out +of my head."</p> + +<p>"Well, children," said aunt Madge, "suppose we give Susy a little more +time, and excuse her for to-night? It's time for pleasant dreams now, +and kisses all 'round."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY'S WHITE TEA</h2> + + +<p>"Blessings on the blessed children!" said aunt Madge, one morning soon +after this. "So we little folks are going out to spend the day, are +we?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," replied Grace, "all but Horace."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Prudy, dancing in high glee, "grandma wants <i>me</i> to go, +and I'm goin'. I mean to do every single thing grandma wants me to."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could go with us, aunt Madge," said Grace, almost pouting; +"we don't have half so good times with aunt Louise."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, we don't," cried Prudy; "she wants us to 'take care' all the +time. She don't love little girls when she has 'the nervous.'"</p> + +<p>Almost while they were talking, their aunt Louise came into the room, +looking prettier than ever in her new pink dress. She was a very young +lady, hardly fifteen years old.</p> + +<p>"Come, Prudy," said she, smiling, "please run up stairs and get my +parasol—there's a darling."</p> + +<p>But Prudy was picking a pebble out of her shoe, and did not start at +once.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said aunt Louise, drawing on her gloves, "I see Prudy isn't +going to mind me."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you see me getting up out of my chair?" said Prudy. +"There now, don't you see me got clear to the door?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O dear," said poor aunt Louise to her sister, "what shall I do all +this long day with three noisy children? I'm afraid some of them will +get drowned, or run over, or break their necks. You see if something +awful doesn't happen before we get back."</p> + +<p>"O, I hope not," replied sister Madge, laughing. "I think there is +nothing so very wicked about our little nieces."</p> + +<p>"Here is your parasol, auntie," said Prudy, coming back. "I know who I +love best of any body in this house, and it ain't the one that's got +her bonnet on—it's a-r-n-t, aunt, M-i-g, Madge."</p> + +<p>"Well, you ought to love your aunt <i>Mig</i>, all of you," said aunt +Louise, laughing, "for I do believe she thinks you children are as +lovely as little white rose-buds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>—Come, are you all ready? Then run +along, and I'll follow after."</p> + +<p>"O, I'm so glad I'm alive!" cried little Prudy, hoping on one foot; "I +do hope I shall never die!"</p> + +<p>"I just mean to be careful, and not get a speck of dirt on my clean +apron," whispered Susy to Grace. "Aunt Madge ironed it this morning."</p> + +<p>They had such a pleasant walk through the streets of the beautiful +village, in the "sunshine, calm and sweet!" Grace thought the trees +met overhead just as if they were clasping hands, and playing a game +of "King's Cruise" for every body to "march through."</p> + +<p>When they had almost reached aunt Martha's house, aunt Louise stopped +them, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Now, tell me if you are going to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> good children, so I shan't be +ashamed of you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, auntie," said Grace, looking quite grieved and surprised.</p> + +<p>"O, auntie," said Susy, "did you think we were going to be naughty?"</p> + +<p>"No, you'll mean to be good, I dare say," answered aunt Louise, +speaking more kindly,—"if you don't forget it. And you'll be a nice, +dear little girl, won't you, Prudy?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Prudy, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>know</i>? Why, do you think I should have taken you visiting if I +hadn't supposed you'd try to be good?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't," said Prudy, with some dignity, "I +said 'I don't know,' and when I say that, I mean '<i>yes</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure I hope you'll do the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> very best you can," sighed aunt +Louise, "and not make any body crazy."</p> + +<p>By this time they had gone up the nice gravel walk, and aunt Martha +had come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embrace +them all at once.</p> + +<p>"Dear little souls," said she, "come right into the house, and let me +take off your things. I've been looking for you these two hours. This +is my little nephew, Lonnie Adams.—Shake hands with the little girls, +my dear."</p> + +<p>Lonnie was a fair-haired, sickly little boy, seven years old. The +children very soon felt at ease with him.</p> + +<p>It was so pleasant in aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the children +took such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they were +all sorry when aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> Louise "got nervous," and thought it was time +they went off somewhere to play.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the house +and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie."</p> + +<p>So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, and +at last came to a stand-still in Bridget's chamber over the kitchen, +tired enough to sit down a while—all but Prudy, who "didn't have any +kind of <i>tiredness</i> about her."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Prudy Parlin," said Grace, "you mustn't open that drawer."</p> + +<p>"Who owns it?" said Prudy, putting in both hands.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bridget does, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, she doesn't," said Prudy, "God owns this drawer, and he's willing +I should look into it as long as I'm a mind to."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell aunt Louise, you see if I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> don't. That's the way +little Paddy girls act that steal things."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a stealer," cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you +once, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. <i>You're</i> a +Paddy!—O, here's <i>a ink-stand</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Put it right back," said Susy, "and come away."</p> + +<p>"Let me take it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Prudy's hand, "I'm +going to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback," said +he, jumping up on a stand. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'O yes! O yes! O yes! +Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'"</p> + +<p>"Please give it to me," cried Grace; "it isn't yours."</p> + +<p>"'Fresh ink, red as a lobster!'"</p> + +<p>"This minute!" cried Grace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'As green as a pea! Who'll bid? Going! Going!'"</p> + +<p>"Now, do give it to me, Lonnie," said Susy, climbing into a chair, and +reaching after it; "you ain't fair a bit."</p> + +<p>"'Do you say you bid a <i>bit</i>? That's a ninepence, ma'am. It's yours; +going, gone for a ninepence. Knocked off to Miss Parlin.'"</p> + +<p>Somehow, in "knocking it off," out came the stopper, and over went the +ink on Susy's fair white apron. Lonnie was dreadfully frightened.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell that I did it!" cried he. "You know I didn't mean any +harm. Won't you promise not to tell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will," said Susy; but she ought not to have promised any such +thing.</p> + +<p>"O, dear, O dear! What is to be done?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>Little black streams were trickling down the apron on to the dress. +Grace pulled Susy to the washing-stand, and Prudy thought she meant to +lift her into it, and tried to help.</p> + +<p>"I guess this honey soap will take it out," said Susy; but with all +their washing and rinsing they could not make black white any more +than the poor negro who scoured his face.</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute!" cried Grace. "Soap makes it worse—ma puts on milk."</p> + +<p>"O dear! I wish we had some," said Susy; "how can we get it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Grace; "we'll send Prudy down +stairs to Bridget, to ask for some milk to drink."</p> + +<p>"I like milk and water the best," said Prudy, "with sugar in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, get that," said Grace, "it's just as good; and come right back +with it, and don't tell about the ink."</p> + +<p>Aunt Martha and Bridget were taking up the dinner when Prudy went down +into the kitchen, calling out,—</p> + +<p>"O, Bridget, may I have some white tea?"</p> + +<p>"White <i>tay</i>!" said Bridget; "and what may that be now?"</p> + +<p>"O, some white tea, in a cup, you know, with sugar. They let me have +it every little once in a while."</p> + +<p>"Milk and water, I suppose," said aunt Martha. "Can't you wait till +dinner, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"But the girls <i>can't</i> wait," replied Prudy; "they want it now."</p> + +<p>"O, it's for the girls, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but when they've washed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> apron I can drink the rest—with +white sugar in."</p> + +<p>"The apron!" said aunt Martha, "<i>what</i> apron?"</p> + +<p>"O, nothing but Susy's. I told grandma I'd be good, and I did be good; +it wasn't <i>me</i> spilled the ink."</p> + +<p>"Ink spilled?" cried aunt Martha, and she stopped beating the turnip.</p> + +<p>"O, I ain't goin' to tell!" cried Prudy, beginning to tremble; "I +didn't, did I? they won't '<i>low</i> me to tell."</p> + +<p>Aunt Louise, passing through the kitchen, caught some of the last +words, and rushed up stairs, two steps at a time.</p> + +<p>"O, Susy Parlin, you naughty, naughty child, what <i>have</i> you been +into? Who spilled that ink?"</p> + +<p>"It got tipped over," answered Susy, in a fright, but not forgetting +her promise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course it got tipped over—but not without hands, you careless +girl! Do you get your shaker, and march home as quick as ever you can! +I must go with you, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Lonnie ought to have come forward now, like a little gentleman, and +told the whole story; but he had run away.</p> + +<p>"O, auntie," said Grace, "she wasn't to blame. It——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say a word," said aunt Louise, briskly. "If she was my little +girl I'd have her sent to bed. That dress and apron ought to be +soaking this very minute."</p> + +<p>Bridget listened at the foot of the stairs in a very angry mood, +muttering,—</p> + +<p>"It's not much like the child's mother she is. A mother can pass it by +when the childers does such capers, and wait till they get more +sinse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor little Susy had to go home in the noonday sun, hanging down her +head like a guilty child, and crying all the way. Some of the tears +were for her soiled clothes, some for her auntie's sharp words, and +some for the nice dinner she had left.</p> + +<p>"O, aunt Madge," sobbed she, when they had got home, "I kept as far +behind aunt Louise as I could, so nobody would think I was her little +girl. She was ashamed of me, I looked so!"</p> + +<p>"There, there! try not to cry," said aunt Madge, as she took off +Susy's soiled clothes.</p> + +<p>"But I can't stop crying, I feel so bad. If there's any body gets into +a fuss it's always <i>me</i>! I'm all the time making some kind of trouble. +Sometimes I wish there wasn't any such girl as me!"</p> + +<p>Tears came into aunt Madge's kind gray eyes, and she made up her mind +that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> poor child should be comforted. So she quietly put away the +silk dress she was so anxious to finish, and after dinner took the +fresh, tidy, happy little Susy across the fields to aunt Martha's +again, where the unlucky day was finished very happily after all.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Louise," said aunt Madge that night, after their +return, "<i>Lonnie</i> spilled that ink, and Susy was not at all to blame. +You scolded her without mercy for being careless, and she bore it all +because she would not break her promise to that cowardly boy."</p> + +<p>"O, how unjust I have been!" said aunt Louise, who did not mean to be +unkind, in spite of her hasty way of speaking.</p> + +<p>"You <i>have</i> been unjust," said aunt Madge. "Only think what a trifling +thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> it is for a little child to soil her dress! and what a great +thing to have her keep her word! Susy has a tender heart, and it +grieves her to be unjustly scolded; but she would bear it all rather +than tell a falsehood. For my part I am proud of such a noble, +truthful little niece."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h2>PRUDY TRYING TO HELP</h2> + + +<p>Prudy awoke one morning full of mischief. At the second table she +split her johnny-cake, and spread it open, saying it was a +singing-book, and began to sing out of it,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Little drops of water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little <i>grains</i> of sand."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Grandma heard her from the next room, and came in very much surprised.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do with such a little girl as this?" said she, shaking +her finger at Prudy.</p> + +<p>"I think," answered the child, "you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> ought to call me to you and say, +'You been a-singin' to the table, Prudy.' Then I'll say 'Yes'm;' and +you'll say, 'Prudy, go right out in the kitchen, and don't let me see +you till you come back pleasant.'"</p> + +<p>Grandma put her head out of the window a moment, for she didn't want +any body to see her smile.</p> + +<p>"This is one of Prudy's days," thought she. "I'm really afraid I shall +have to punish her before it's over."</p> + +<p>Very soon after breakfast the doorbell rang, and a little boy left a +note directed to Miss Grace Clifford. It said,—</p> + +<p>"Miss Grace Clifford, the Misses Parlin, and Mr. Horace Clifford, are +respectfully invited to a gypsy supper in the Pines."</p> + +<p>The children hardly knew what it meant.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> jispies?" asked Prudy, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> little frightened. "Be they up in +the Pines?"</p> + +<p>"It means a picnic, that's all," said aunt Madge, "and a very nice +time you will have."</p> + +<p>"A picnic!" screamed all the voices in chorus. It was almost too good +to believe. Grace clapped her hands and laughed. Susy ran about the +room like a crazy thing. Prudy hopped up and down, and Horace tried to +stand on his head.</p> + +<p>"Now scamper, every one of you," said aunt Madge, "for I must go right +to cooking.—Let's see, you shall have some cunning little sandwiches, +some hard-boiled eggs; and what else can you think of, Louise?"</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute," said aunt Louise, drawing on a long face, "I hope +Susy and Prudy——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tarts and plum-cake!" cried Susy and Grace.</p> + +<p>"Oranges, dates, and figs!" said Horace.</p> + +<p>"And them little cookies you cut out of a thimble, you know," added +Prudy, anxious to put in a word.</p> + +<p>"Hear me speak," said aunt Louise. "I hope Susy and Prudy don't think +they are going to this picnic, for the truth is, they haven't been +invited."</p> + +<p>"Not invited?" gasped Susy.</p> + +<p>"The note says, 'the Misses Parlin,'" said aunt Louise, gravely. "That +might mean your grandmother, but it doesn't! I take it to mean <i>the +young ladies</i>, Madge (or Mig) and Louise, your beautiful aunties, who +are often called 'the Misses Parlin.' Of course it <i>can't</i> mean two +little slips of girls in short dresses!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>Susy burst into tears, and tried to talk at the same time, but nobody +could understand her.</p> + +<p>"O, O!" moaned Prudy, burying her face in the roller-towel, "if I +can't go I shall just lay down my head and cry!"</p> + +<p>"It's not true, children, not one word; she's only joking," said aunt +Madge, laughing and shaking the egg-beater at her sister. "I'm really +ashamed of your aunt Louise for trying to tease you. What <i>do</i> you +suppose any body wants of old grown-up folks at your nice little +party? There, there, don't laugh <i>quite</i> so loud. Run away, and stay +away, if you want me ever to do any thing."</p> + +<p>In a few moments the children were playing out of doors in high +spirits, and Prudy had told the workmen, in her pretty, lisping way, +"that every one of we children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> were invited to a <i>jispy</i> supper; had +a ticket come a-purpose, so of course we should <i>have</i> to go!"</p> + +<p>The children were too much excited to do their morning work properly. +Grandma could not tell by the looks of the piazza whether Susy had +swept it or not, and had to go and ask.</p> + +<p>"She's swept it off," said Prudy, speaking for her, "but she didn't +sweep it <i>way off</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I should judge not," said grandma; "and here is Prudy, with her bib +on yet, and Grace hasn't made her bed. Do you think such children +ought to go to a party?"</p> + +<p>"O, grandma," cried Prudy, "you know we had a ticket come a-purpose!"</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed," said Grace, promptly. "Susy, you and I are too big to +act so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> Let's go and do up our work right nice, and then see if we +can't help grandma."</p> + +<p>And off went the two little girls, with beaming faces, trying to make +themselves useful.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?" thought Prudy, for every body was at work,—even +Horace, who was turning the grindstone for the men.</p> + +<p>"I'll dust the parlors, that's what I'll do. It does take aunt Madge +so long."</p> + +<p>So, with the big feather duster, Prudy made a great stir among the +books and ornaments, and at last knocked over a little pitcher and +broke its nose.</p> + +<p>"You little meddlesome thing," cried aunt Louise, as soon as she knew +it, "this is one of your <i>days</i>, I should think!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to," cried the child; "I was trying to help."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't say you didn't mean to; you hadn't any business to touch the +duster. I shall have to snip your fingers, I do believe."</p> + +<p>"Don't," begged the child, "<i>I'll</i> snip my hands, <i>you</i> needn't; +<i>I'll</i> snip my hands and get the naughty out."</p> + +<p>"They ought to be snipped from now till next Christmas," said aunt +Louise, laughing in spite of herself to see the little one set to work +with thumb and finger, trying to do her own punishing. "There, there, +go off, and be a good girl."</p> + +<p>Prudy's bright spirits rose again at these words, and she thought she +would keep on trying to make herself useful. It was aunt Madge she +wanted to help—good aunt Madge, who was so busy cooking for the gypsy +supper.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_03.jpg" width="500" height="695" alt="Prudy dusting. Page 135 ." /> +<span class="caption">Prudy dusting. <a href="#Page_135">Page 135 .</a></span></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll feed her bird," thought the child; "he sings as if he was +hungry."</p> + +<p>Now aunt Madge had fed little Daffy before sunrise, and he was as +yellow and happy as a canary can be. But silly little Prudy trotted +off after a piece of sponge cake, climbed into a chair, opened the +cage door, and swung the cake before his eyes.</p> + +<p>Of course Daffy flew out, and one might suppose that was the last of +him; but it so happened that the windows were not up.</p> + +<p>Prudy ran, in great fright, to tell aunt Madge, and when she opened +the door, the cat got in; and such a time as there was, you may +imagine. Kitty rushed for the canary, aunt Louise rushed for the +kitty, and aunt Madge for the bird. At last, Daffy was caught, and +safe in his little home, with only the loss of a few tiny feathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'd give that child one sound whipping," said aunt Louise.</p> + +<p>"Let Madge attend to her," replied grandma; "she will do right, for +she knows how to keep her temper."</p> + +<p>Louise said nothing, but she felt the rebuke; and as she left the +room, there was a bright color in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Prudy," said aunt Madge, gently, "you didn't mean to open the cage +door, did you?"</p> + +<p>Prudy remembered that she had been scolded before for saying "I didn't +mean to."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I did," replied she, in a choked voice, "I meant to do it +a-purpose."</p> + +<p>"I'm really astonished," cried aunt Madge, raising both hands. "Then +it's surely my duty to punish you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You may," sobbed Prudy. "You may shut me up, and not let me have no +dinner, 'cause I ain't hungry. I've been eatin' cake!"</p> + +<p>"I think," said aunt Madge, "it would be a better punishment to keep +you home from the party."</p> + +<p>"O," cried Prudy, eagerly, "wouldn't you rather snip my hands? You can +snip 'em with a piece o' whalebone, you know, and switch me all over +with a switch, and do <i>every thing</i> to me, if you'll only let me go to +the party!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll forget, unless you're kept at home, Prudy."</p> + +<p>"O, no, no; I'll promise truly I won't try to help again, never, never +in my world."</p> + +<p>"Were you trying to help when you let out the bird?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I was. He was singin' for somethin' to eat."</p> + +<p>"O, I begin to understand," said aunt Madge, laughing heartily. "So +you didn't mean to be a naughty girl after all. I am very glad of +that, Prudy, for I couldn't tell what to make of you. But you must +never touch the cage again. Little girls that want to <i>help</i>, must ask +somebody to tell them what to do. There, now, kiss me, dear, and I'll +forgive you, and we won't say any more about your being naughty, if +you'll only remember next time."</p> + +<p>Prudy laughed, and twinkled off the tears. She was what aunt Madge +called a "bird-child," and was never unhappy but a little while at a +time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h2>THE GYPSY SUPPER</h2> + + +<p>After a great, great while, it was afternoon, and the children went up +to the Pines, carrying a small market basket half full of nice things.</p> + +<p>I don't know which felt most at home in those woods, the birds or the +children. It wasn't at all like having a party in a parlor, where +there are chairs and rugs in the way; and where you can't run and jump +without being afraid of hurting something. No, there wasn't any danger +of scratching the varnish off the trees, nor any danger of soiling the +soft carpet of the earth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>And if there hadn't been a party, it was enough to make any body happy +only to breathe the sweet air, and look away down at the white +village, and away off at the blue hills.</p> + +<p>Dr. Gray's daughter Ruth, a girl of fourteen, was to have the care of +Prudy; and at first she followed the child about like her shadow.</p> + +<p>"You dear little pet," said she, "don't walk so fast. There, now, my +sweet dovey, let me take your hand."</p> + +<p>Prudy looked down at her copper-toed shoes with something like a pout, +and slowly gave her hand to the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Now, you're a little pink of a dear," said Ruth. "Let's see," added +she, feeling anxious to say something, for she thought Prudy would +want to be amused,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> "do you love your aunt Madge any? <i>I</i> think she's +very good and nice."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Prudy, "I've kissed her so much that I love her a good +deal."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare," laughed Ruth, "that's a new way of learning to love +any body! I guess people call you a funny little monkey, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"No'm, they don't," replied Prudy, drawing away a little, "they think +I'm as cunning as I can be."</p> + +<p>"O, my! I know a little girl that thinks pretty well of herself. Ah, +here comes Dedy Roberts; does my little love know Dedy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I went to see her once; she lives in a dreadful <i>ragged</i> +house!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you two little lammies can sit right down here and pick +flowers, and if you find a strawberry I'll give you a cent."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As if we was babies," thought the little girls, for they were wise +enough to know that strawberries were gone long ago.</p> + +<p>"I don't like her," said Prudy to Dedy, when Ruth had turned away; +"she calls me names all the whole time. I guess she don't know my name +is Prudy."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't let her," said Dedy. "What did she call you?"</p> + +<p>"O, monkeys, and lammies, and pinkies, and things. Don't you s'pose +she's 'most an <i>April fool</i>?"</p> + +<p>After watching Prudy to the child's vexation for about two hours, Ruth +forgot all about her, and it so happened that the little thing strayed +off with Horace and his friend Gilbert, whom he called "Grasshopper," +to a little clearing in the wood.</p> + +<p>It is a sad fact that "Grasshopper" had a bunch of matches in his +pocket, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> boys meant to build a fire. Horace gathered the dry +sticks and crossed them, so all Grasshopper had to do was to strike a +match, and the fire was soon crackling briskly.</p> + +<p>"How it pops!" said Prudy, "just like corn."</p> + +<p>"I reckon this is <i>popple</i> wood," said Horace, "and they call it so +because it pops in the fire."</p> + +<p>Prudy did not doubt it. She never doubted any thing Horace said. She +stood looking on, with dumb surprise, as he took out of the inside +pocket of his raglan three small fishes.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "if we can cook these for our supper, won't we go +a-flyin'?"</p> + +<p>"Be they minnies?" asked Prudy. "O, I know; it's mack fishes!"</p> + +<p>"She means <i>mackerel</i>, you see," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> Horace, with a wise look at +Grasshopper. "No, Prudy, these are chubbs, nice chubbs, too; I caught +'em myself."</p> + +<p>How to cook a fish, Horace had no idea, but he was not a boy to give +up at trifles.</p> + +<p>"If I put 'em into the fire they'll burn up," said he; "but if I hold +'em over the fire they'll cook;—now won't they?"</p> + +<p>"Your hand will cook, too, I guess," said lazy Grasshopper, sitting +down and looking on.</p> + +<p>Horace said no more, but went quietly to work and whittled some long +splinters, on which he stuck the fish and set them to roasting. True, +they got badly scorched and dreadfully smoked, but that was not all +that happened. A spark flying out caught Prudy's gingham dress, and +set it in flames in a second.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whether the boys would have known what to do, I can't say; but just +then Sam Walker, a good-natured colored man, came up and put out the +flames before Prudy fairly knew there were any. Then he brought water +from a spring and drowned the bonfire, and gave the boys "a piece of +his mind."</p> + +<p>All the while poor Prudy was running off into the thickest part of the +wood, crying bitterly. Sam ran after her, and caught her up, as if she +had been a stray lamb; and though she struggled hard, he carried her +to the picnic ground, where the large girls were just spreading the +table for supper.</p> + +<p>"You'd better look out for these here young ones," said Sam. "This one +would have been roasted sure, if I hadn't a-happened along in the nick +of time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ruth Gray dropped the paper of candy she was untying, and turned very +pale. She had been too busy playing games to remember that she had the +care of any body.</p> + +<p>"O, you little ducky darling," cried she, seizing Prudy in her arms, +"don't you cry, and you shall have a pocket full of candy. You didn't +get burnt a mite, did you, honey?"</p> + +<p>"No'm, I ain't cryin'," sobbed Prudy. "I ain't crying any thing about +that;" and every word seemed to be shaken out, as if there was a +little earthquake at her heart—"<i>there—is—black folks!</i> O, he is +just as—<i>black</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Is that all," said Grace, stroking Prudy's hair. "Didn't she ever see +any negroes—any nice black negro men before, Susy?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought she had; why, we have 'em in the streets at Portland, lots +and lots of 'em."</p> + +<p>After much soothing, and a good deal of candy, Prudy was comforted, +and the supper went off famously. The children were all polite and +well-behaved, "even the boys," as Ruth said; and though they all had +keen appetites, nobody was greedy.</p> + +<p>By and by, when it would not do to stay any longer, they all started +for home, happy and tired.</p> + +<p>Ruth held Prudy's little hand in a firm grasp, and wished she had held +it so all the afternoon; "for," as she said, to herself, "she's a very +<i>slippery</i> child."</p> + +<p>This had been a trying day for Prudy, and when aunt Madge put her to +bed, her sweet blue eyes wouldn't stay shut.</p> + +<p>"Where do they grow, auntie?" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> she, "them black folks. Be <i>they</i> +the jispies?"</p> + +<p>"O, they grow any where," replied aunt Madge, laughing; "just like any +body. They are not gypsies, but negroes."</p> + +<p>"I should think they'd wash their faces."</p> + +<p>"O, they do, but our Heavenly Father made them black."</p> + +<p>"Did he?" cried Prudy, raising her head from the pillow. "And did he +know how they was goin' to look when he made 'em? That man that +catched me up, why, how he must feel!"</p> + +<p>"He was very kind," said aunt Madge, trembling as she thought of the +child's danger. "O Prudy, did you thank him?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't," replied Prudy. "I didn't know as he could hear any +thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> O, mayn't I go up to the jispy Pines to-morrow and thank him?"</p> + +<p>"We'll see; but now it's time you went to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will," said Prudy, "I'll go in a minute; but, auntie, he's +good, ain't he? He ain't black <i>all</i> through?"</p> + +<p>"He's quite a good man," answered aunt Madge, trying not to smile, +"and has had a great deal of trouble. I can't stop to tell you, and +you wouldn't understand; but I dare say he has cried ever so much, +Prudy, and felt worse than you can think, all because he is black; and +some people don't like black men."</p> + +<p>"I should think they'd be ashamed," cried the child. "Why, <i>I</i> love +him, 'cause he can't wash it off! Mayn't I put him in my prayer?"</p> + +<p>Then Prudy had to get out of bed and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> kneel down and say her prayer +over again. It followed the Lord's Prayer, and was in her own words:—</p> + +<p>"O God, please bless every body. Bless all the big children, and the +little children, and the little mites o' babies. And bless all the men +and ladies that live in the whole o' the houses."</p> + +<p>And now she added,—</p> + +<p>"And won't you please to bless that black man that catched me up, and +bless all the black folks, forever, amen."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h2>THE ANGEL-BABY</h2> + + +<p>The beautiful summer was passing away very fast. Only a few days more +till autumn. A little longer, and the cousins must separate; so, for +the time that was left, they clung all the more closely together.</p> + +<p>I have called it a beautiful summer; so it was, but there is one +sorrowful thing I have not said much about. There was one trouble +which always made the children feel sad when they stopped to think of +it.</p> + +<p>While they were playing in the hay-field, or taking supper "up in the +trees," now and then they would hear the tired cry of the darling sick +baby.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Grace would clasp her hands together in her quick way, and say,—</p> + +<p>"O dear, dear, I wish the doctor would get Harry well."</p> + +<p>"Poh!" said Horace, "the doctors they have East ain't no 'count, are +they, though, Gracie?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they don't know so much as Dr. De Bruler," replied Grace, +very decidedly.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how they make doctors," spoke up little Prudy; "they +take a man and put him in a bear's buffalo coat, and that makes a +doctor."</p> + +<p>"And a gig," said Horace, "and some sharp things, and lots of little +bottles."</p> + +<p>"What children!" said Grace, looking down upon them with a lofty +smile. "Why, Prudy, what <i>have</i> you got in your pocket?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, I don't know," said Prudy, throwing her hands behind her. +"<i>Goodness</i> won't hurt me, will it, Susy?"</p> + +<p>"I guess <i>you</i> ain't good enough to hurt."</p> + +<p>"Well, grandma says not to eat green apples," said the child, "but +she'd be willing I could chew 'em and get the <i>good</i> all out—don't +you s'pose she would?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Susy; "you must ask."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never teased for any. Horace gave 'em to me, and I shan't +swallow 'em."</p> + +<p>"O, what a little snipe," cried Grace, laughing, "your pocket is +stuffed so full it's going to burst open, and you'll be sick again, +now you see!"</p> + +<p>"Sick?" repeated Prudy, looking frightened, for she did not forget her +severe illness; "then I'll throw 'em away. I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> love such sour +things anyhow. I was only <i>hung-buggin</i>'."</p> + +<p>And Prudy went down the wooden stairs which led from the trees, and +walked slowly towards the house, dropping the green apples one by one +into the grass.</p> + +<p>At the kitchen door she met her aunt Madge, who was in tears.</p> + +<p>"O auntie," said she, "I'm going to wash my hands spandy clean, and +then are you willing there is any thing I can have to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Cookies, if you like, my dear."</p> + +<p>"O auntie," cried Prudy, eager with a new thought, "won't you tell me +where them raisins is—the ones you didn't put in the pudding? Tell +me, O, do, do! If you will, I won't touch 'em, true as the world."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you want to know where they are?" said aunt Madge, a +faint smile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> flitting across her face and then dying out again.</p> + +<p>"O, 'cause," said Prudy, "then I can tell Susy, and <i>she</i> can get +'em!"</p> + +<p>"You can each of you have a handful," said aunt Madge, reaching down +the box. "You may have some, for I know you wouldn't take them without +leave, and Susy wouldn't either, you funny child!"</p> + +<p>"Now," said she, putting the raisins in Prudy's apron, "I want you to +go out of doors and keep very still."</p> + +<p>"Why do you cry so, my dearest auntie in the world?" said Prudy, +climbing into a chair, and throwing her arms around her auntie's neck, +while the raisins dropped to the floor; "is Mr. 'Gustus Allen dead?"</p> + +<p>"No," said aunt Madge, hugging little Prudy as if she was good for the +heartache, "the baby is a <i>great deal worse</i>, darling!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> Tell the +children I will send them some dinner up in the trees, and don't let +Horace come into the house. You know he means to keep still, but his +boots make so much noise."</p> + +<p>Prudy gathered up the raisins, and went out quietly, her happy little +face looking very sober. But the "bird-child" could not be sad long at +a time, and she had hardly climbed the steps into the trees, and given +away the clusters of raisins, before the sick baby was almost +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"There," said Horace, suddenly, "I must go right into the house and +see Harry. I haven't seen him to-day."</p> + +<p>"O, no, no!" cried Prudy, holding him back, and speaking very fast, +"he's a great deal <i>wusser</i>, and auntie said your boots was so big +she'd send the dinner out here; and then she cried like every thing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O," said Grace, "I'm so afraid the baby won't get well! Aunt Madge +didn't say any thing about <i>dying</i>—about Harry's <i>dying</i>, did she, +Prudy?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Prudy, stopping a moment to think; "she said he was +wusser—a great deal wusser, darling. And then she talked about +Horace's boots, and that's all."</p> + +<p>"The darling little baby! He used to love me before he got so sick; +and all the way coming East I held him ever so much, you know, +Horace."</p> + +<p>"Well, he liked me, too," said Horace, looking very sober, "and I've +played with him the most, and let him spoil lots of my things."</p> + +<p>"So you have," said Grace. "I heard ma say the other day you'd always +been good to little brother. O Susy, you ought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> to have seen how Harry +used to jump when he'd hear Horace open the door; he always expected a +frolic!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't we have <i>times</i>!" cried Horace, dropping his eyes, which were +full of tears.</p> + +<p>"O Susy," said Grace, "do you suppose any one that's sick all summer +ever gets well?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," sighed Susy; "mother says if God is willing they'll +get well, and if he isn't they'll die. God knows what is best."</p> + +<p>"Yes," chimed in little Prudy, "God knows a great deal more'n I do!"</p> + +<p>And so the children chatted and played quietly all day long, sometimes +breaking off in the midst of a game to talk about the baby. It seemed +like a very strange day. The sky looked so calm and peaceful that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> you +could almost fancy it was keeping still to listen to something a great +way off. The quiet trees might have been dreaming of heaven, Susy +thought. Horace begged her now to tell that fairy story about "The +Bravest of Lion's Castle;" but Susy said it made her feel wicked to +think of fairy stories <i>that</i> day, though she couldn't tell why.</p> + +<p>When the children went into the house at supper-time it was very +still. Nobody was to be seen but aunt Madge, who gave them some bowls +of bread and milk, and said the family had taken tea.</p> + +<p>A kind of awe crept over Grace as she looked at the tearful face of +her auntie, and she dared not ask about the baby.</p> + +<p>After they had finished their supper, aunt Madge said, "You may all +follow me into the nursery; I have something to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> you.—Our dear +little pale baby, who has been sick day and night all this long +summer, will never feel sick or cry any more. God has taken him to +heaven to be a little angel."</p> + +<p>All but Prudy knew that she spoke of death. Grace flung herself on the +floor and wept aloud. Horace rushed up stairs into the back chamber, +without saying a word to any body; and Susy buried her face in the +sofa-pillows, whispering, "O God, don't let it be so; it isn't true, +is it?"</p> + +<p>But Prudy only opened her blue eyes in wonder. When she saw the pure +little form of the baby lying on the bed, in a soft crimson dress, she +smiled and said,—</p> + +<p>"O, he looks as if he was asleep, and he is asleep!"</p> + +<p>"But see, he doesn't breathe," whispered Susy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Prudy, "he don't breathe because he don't want to. He was +sick, and it made him too tired to <i>breathe</i> so much."</p> + +<p>Why every body should weep was more than Prudy could tell; but she +thought it must be right to do as the rest did, and by bedtime she was +sobbing as if her heart would break. She afterwards said to Susy,—</p> + +<p>"I tried as hard as I could to cry, and when I got to crying I cried +as tight as I could spring!"</p> + +<p>But when aunt Madge wanted to put Prudy to bed she was unwilling to +go. "O, no," said she, "I want to wait and see the baby go up!"</p> + +<p>"See what?" said aunt Madge.</p> + +<p>"See God take the baby up to heaven," sobbed the child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But he is in heaven <i>now</i>," replied aunt Madge.</p> + +<p>"O, no, he hasn't gone a single step. I saw him on the bed. They +haven't put his wings on yet!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge was puzzled, and hardly knew what to say, for it is not +easy to make such very little children know the difference between the +body, which goes back to dust, and the spirit, which goes to God who +gave it.</p> + +<p>She talked a long while, but I doubt if Prudy understood one word, for +when the casket which held the form of little Harry was buried in the +garden, she cried because the earth was heaped over it.</p> + +<p>"What makes 'em do it?" she asked, "he can't get to heaven through all +that dirt!"</p> + +<p>But by and by, when days passed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> there was no longer a baby in +the house, Prudy began to think of him as one of the angels. And one +morning she told a beautiful dream which she thought she had had, +though she sometimes called her <i>thoughts</i> dreams.</p> + +<p>"O," said she, "I dreamed about my angel! He had stars all round his +head, and he <i>flowed</i> in the air like a bird. There was ever so many +little angels with him, and some of 'em sang. They didn't sing +<i>sorry</i>; they was singing, 'The Little Boy that died.' And, aunt 'Ria, +I guess you wouldn't cry if you could see how happy they were!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," sobbed poor aunt 'Ria, holding Prudy close in her arms, +which she said felt "<i>so</i> empty" now, "it can't be right to cry, can +it, Prudy, when I <i>know</i> my baby is so happy in heaven?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h2>GOING HOME</h2> + + +<p>It was now autumn. The trees couldn't keep green any longer, for their +time had come; so they just made the best of it, like sad faces +laughing through tears, and glowed and flushed in a perfect blaze of +glory, making believe they were having splendid times all by +themselves, and didn't care for what was coming.</p> + +<p>The Parlin children had stayed a great deal longer than their parents +at first meant they should stay, and now they must really go back to +Portland.</p> + +<p>The little cousins were sorry to part, for you know they had learned +to love one another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> dearly. Grace and Susy clung together till the +last moment.</p> + +<p>"O Susy," sobbed Grace, "don't you forget these good times! Remember +to write, no matter how it looks. I wish I hadn't got to go 'way off +out West. I never did have such times in any place as we've had here +at grandma's."</p> + +<p>"Nor I either," said Susy, looking sorrowfully at the barn, the seat +in the trees, and the clover patch. "Remember, you're coming back in +just two years. Won't it be splendid?—O dear, but two years is 'most +forever!" added Susy, suddenly breaking down.</p> + +<p>"Good by, Prudy," said Horace, climbing into the stage-coach, quite +out of breath. He had run all the way to the post office just for the +sake of seeing her again.</p> + +<p>"Good by, Prudy. You're the cunningest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> little spud! If you lived out +West I'd just go a-flyin'."</p> + +<p>Nobody knew whether Horace cried or not, for nobody saw him till +dinner time, but then he looked very sober indeed. He and Grasshopper +had been building a fort, he said; and after he had told so much, he +seemed not to care about talking. He felt captain of a little company, +and such a brave soldier that he would not even say he felt sorry +Prudy was gone.</p> + +<p>Grace talked a great deal about Susy, and asked her mamma if she might +not invite her to go out West some time.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford said she should be very glad, indeed, to have a visit +from both the children, and who knew but it might happen so? for Mr. +Parlin, Susy's father, often took journeys out West on business.</p> + +<p>This idea struck Grace very pleasantly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> and she had a strong hope of +the visit in a minute. In two minutes she had a firm belief in it; and +the last we see of Grace and Horace in this book, they are sitting on +the piazza, eagerly talking about the next winter, when they shall +both go to the cars to meet uncle Edward and the children.</p> + +<p>"They'll be there my birthday—what'll you bet?" said Horace.</p> + +<p>"I shall wear my tippet when we go to the depot, and have a new hood," +said Grace. "I don't know what my dress will be, though."</p> + +<p>"I'll make a bow-arrow, and a gun, and a steamboat for Prudy."</p> + +<p>"And I'll give Susy my large doll, and make a blue dress for it, with +flowing sleeves. She shall put all her things into my cabinet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What'll we have to eat? Pecans, and 'simmons, and raisins, and figs."</p> + +<p>"O, we shall have plenty to eat, Horace, we always do. We'll give 'em +canned peaches with cream. Susy likes cream as well as a cat."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see Prudy eat a 'simmon—a green one, I mean," cried +Horace, laughing aloud. "Seems like I can see her mouth puckering up +now."</p> + +<p>Susy and Prudy, all this while, were riding home in the cars, under +the care of the conductor.</p> + +<p>"O," sighed Susy, "I wish we were going backwards, just the other way. +Grandma is going to let Grace boil some candy to-night, and put +oilnuts in it."</p> + +<p>"I guess they'll want <i>me</i> to help 'em pull it," said Prudy.</p> + +<p>"There, now, we've got to Brunswick,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> murmured Susy. "I don't like to +get so far away from the folks at grandma's. Don't it seem real +lonesome?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," replied Prudy. "I'm glad we're goin' home to see mother +and the rest of 'em. What do you s'pose the baby'll say?"</p> + +<p>But their speech was cut short by some large pieces of sponge cake, +which the smiling conductor brought to them wrapped in a newspaper.</p> + +<p>Susy and Prudy reached home safely, and there is nothing more to be +said about them at present.</p> + +<p>I think I will copy the letter which Prudy wrote to her dear friend, +Mr. Allen, or which she got aunt Madge to write the next time she went +to Portland.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<div class="f1"><span class="smcap">Christmas Day.</span></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. 'Gustus Allen</span>:</p> + +<p>When you went off to the wars aunt Madge cried some, for I saw her +wiping her eyes. You asked me if I loved you for the candy, but I +didn't; I loved you for the nuts and oranges.</p> + +<p>I think you was real good to write me a letter. I had just as lief +kiss you as not if you <i>wasn't</i> my father; and aunt Madge says she'll +answer it, 'cause you couldn't read my writing; <i>but</i> I hain't got any +pig! He was a pinky winky little thing, but grandpa kept a keepin' him +eatin', and he got so big once when I was gone that they had to kill +him.</p> + +<p>But he didn't go to heaven, and I'm glad, for I don't ever want to see +<i>him</i> again. That was last summer, when I was a <i>little</i> girl. I don't +like pigs <i>now</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course I'm going on five, for if I wasn't most five my grandpa Read +wouldn't be dead most two years.</p> + +<p>I've got my presents, but they ain't took off the tree yet. Mother +gave me a tea-set. O, I wish you could see it, 'cause you wouldn't +break a single thing. And I had a doll, and lots of candy and books, +and a new dress, and a scarf, and some shiny shoes.</p> + +<p>I'm glad you wrote me that darling letter. I can't think of any thing +to think of. The skeeters bit me when I was to grandma's. I hate +<i>live</i> skeeters. They might be flies, and I wouldn't care then. They +used to get into my skin just as easy, and sting me all up.</p> + +<p>Won't you write me another letter? Please to.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>Susy fastened her tooth to the door-latch once. It got so loose it +shook in her mouth, and it hurt her so I had to cry. But <i>my</i> teeth +are drove in real hard. I mean it hurt her when 'twas pulled, that's +what I mean.</p> + +<p>I saw a cow the other day in the road, that wasn't hitched. Susy said, +"Go long goff, sir," but he didn't, and then a man shoo-brauded him, +and he went.</p> + +<p>We had a dear little toady in the garden, and when I talked to him he +winked. He had a nest in the flower-bed last summer.</p> + +<p>I like to stay at grandma's, so I can jump off of something. Mother +won't let us hunt for any eggs to Portland—'cause we haven't any +hens.</p> + +<p>Horace was a captain to his men. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> made me a sled. I had a new dress +on the Christmas-tree, and a sugar basket.</p> + +<p>I've got a bad cold, but Susy hasn't. My head is all snuffed up.</p> + +<p>When are you goin' to come home?</p> + +<p>I haven't seen Grace and Horace for so long! They went home after the +baby died. God has got the baby up in heaven, but the <i>tired part</i> of +him is in the garden.</p> + +<p>My father is 'most crazy to see me. He is, truly; and when I say +<i>truly</i>, I <i>can't</i> lie. He <i>said</i> he wanted to see me so he was 'most +crazy, and he's comin' to-night.</p> + +<p>I s'pose he'll bring me something, for I've been good. When I act +cross, it's 'cause I don't feel well.</p> + +<p>Aunt Madge says to me I've wrote enough, and I'm tired. She's wrote +the letter, but I made it up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>I wish you a Merry Christmas! She asked me if I forgot to wish it, but +I didn't.</p> + +<p class="f2">Good by.</p> + +<p class="f3">From</p> + +<p class="f4"><span class="smcap">Prudy Parlin.</span></p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h4>SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS</h4> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sophie May's excellent pen has perhaps never written +anything more pleasing to children, especially little girls, +than 'Dotty Dimple.' If the little reader follows Dotty +through these dozen chapters—from her visit to her +grandmother to the swing under the trees—he or she will +say: 'It has been a treat to read about Dotty Dimple, she's +so cunning.'"—<i>Herald of Gospel Liberty.</i></p></div> + +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE OUT WEST</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dotty's trip was jolly. In the cars, where she saw so many +people that she thought there'd be nobody left in any of the +houses, she offers to hold somebody's baby, and when it +begins to cry she stuffs pop-corn into its mouth, nearly +choking it to death. Afterwards, in pulling a man's hair, +she is horrified at seeing his wig come off, and gasps +out,'Oh, dear, dear, dear, I didn't know your hair was so +tender!' Altogether, she is the cunningest chick that ever +lived."—<i>Oxford Press.</i></p></div> + +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This little book is as full of spice as any of its +predecessors, and well sustains the author's reputation as +the very cleverest of all writers of this species of +children's books. Were there any doubt on this point, the +matter might be easily tested by inquiry in half the +households in the city, where the book is being revelled +over."—<i>Boston Home Journal.</i></p></div> + +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE AT SCHOOL</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Miss Dotty is a peremptory little body, with a great deal +of human nature in her, who wins our hearts by her comic +speeches and funny ways. She complains of being <i>bewitched</i> +by people, and the wind 'blows her out,' and she thinks if +her comrade dies in the snow-storm she will be 'dreadfully +'shamed of it,' and has rather a lively time with all her +trials in going to school."—<i>New York Citizen.</i></p></div> + +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE AT PLAY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'Charming Dotty Dimple,' as she is so universally styled, +has become decidedly a favorite with young and old, who are +alike pleased with her funny sayings and doings. 'Dotty at +Play' will be found very attractive, and the children, +especially the girls, will be delighted with her +adventures."—<i>Boston Express.</i></p></div> + +<h3>DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is the final volume of the 'Dotty Dimple' Series. It +relates how little Flyaway provisioned herself with cookies +and spectacles and got lost on a little hill while seeking +to mount to heaven, and what a precious alarm there was +until she was found, and the subsequent joy at her recovery, +with lots of quaint speeches and funny incidents."—<i>North +American.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A Little Red Riding-Hoodish story, sprightly and takingly +told."—<i>American Farmer.</i></p></div> + +<h3>LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is a book for the little ones of the nursery or +play-room. It introduces all the old favorites of the Prudy +and Dotty books, with new characters and funny incidents. It +is a charming book, wholesome and sweet in every respect, +and cannot fail to interest children under twelve years of +age."—<i>Christian Register.</i></p></div> + +<h3>PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"How she kept it, why she kept it, and what a good time she +had playing cook, and washerwoman, and ironer, is told as +only Sophie May can tell stories. All the funny sayings and +doings of the queerest and cunningest little woman ever +tucked away in the covers of a book will please little folks +and grown people alike."—<i>Press.</i></p></div> + +<h3>AUNT MADGE'S STORY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Tells of a little mite of a girl, who gets into every +conceivable kind of scrape and out again with lightning +rapidity through the whole pretty little book. How she +nearly drowns her bosom friend, and afterwards saves her by +a very remarkable display of little-girl courage. How she +gets left by a train of cars, and loses her kitten and finds +it again, and is presented with a baby sister 'come down +from heaven,' with lots of smart and funny +sayings."—<i>Boston Traveller.</i></p></div> + +<h3>LITTLE GRANDMOTHER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Grandmother Parlen when a little girl is the subject. Of +course that was ever so long ago, when there were no lucifer +matches, and steel and tinder were used to light fires; when +soda and saleratus had never been heard of, but people made +their pearl ash by soaking burnt crackers in water; when the +dressmaker and the tailor and the shoemaker went from house +to house twice a year to make the dresses and coats of the +family."—<i>Transcript.</i></p></div> + +<h3>LITTLE GRANDFATHER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The story of Grandfather Parlen's little-boy life, of the +days of knee breeches and cocked hats, full of odd +incidents, queer and quaint sayings, and the customs of 'ye +olden time.' These stories of Sophie May's are so charmingly +written that older folks may well amuse themselves by +reading them. The same warm sympathy with childhood, the +earnest naturalness, the novel charm of the preceding +volumes will be found in this."—<i>Christian Messenger.</i></p></div> + +<h3>MISS THISTLEDOWN</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"One of the queerest of the Prudy family. Read the chapter +heads and you will see just how much fun there must be in +it: 'Fly's Heart,' 'Taking a Nap,' 'Going to the Fair,' 'The +Dimple Dot,' 'The Hole in the Home,' 'The Little Bachelor,' +'Fly's Bluebeard,' 'Playing Mamma,' 'Butter Spots,' 'Polly's +Secret,' 'The Snow Man,' 'The Owl and the Humming-Bird,' +'Talks of Hunting Deer,' and 'The Parlen Patchwork.'"</p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE FRIZZLE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Flaxie Frizzle is the successor of Dotty Dimple, Little +Prudy, Flyaway, and the other charming child creations of +that inimitable writer for children, Sophie May. There never +was a healthy, fun-loving child born into this world that, +at one stage or another of its growth, wouldn't be +entertained with Sophie May's books. For that matter, it is +not safe for older folks to look into them, unless they +intend to read them through. 'Flaxie Frizzle' will be found +as bright and pleasant reading as the others."—<i>Boston +Journal.</i></p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE'S DOCTOR PAPA</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sophie May understands children. Her books are not books +about them merely. She seems to know precisely how they +feel, and she sets them before us, living and breathing in +her pages. Flaxie Frizzle is a darling, and her sisters, +brothers, and cousins are just the sort of little folks with +whom careful mothers would like their boys and girls to +associate. The story is a bright, breezy, wholesome +narrative, and it is full of mirth and gayety, while its +moral teaching is excellent."—<i>Sunday-School Times.</i></p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE'S LITTLE PITCHERS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Little Flaxie will secure a warm place in the hearts of all +at once. Here is her little picture: Her name was Mary Gray, +but they called her Flaxie Frizzle, because she had light +curly hair that frizzled; and she had a curly nose,—that +is, her nose curled up at the end a wee bit, just enough to +make it look cunning. Her cheeks were rosy red, 'and she was +so fat that when Mr. Snow, the postmaster, saw her, he said, +"How d'ye do, Mother Bunch?"'"—<i>Boston Home Journal.</i></p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE'S TWIN COUSINS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Another of those sweet, natural child-stories in which the +heroine does and says just such things as actual, live, +flesh children do, is the one before us. And, what is still +better, each incident points a moral. The illustrations are +a great addition to the delight of the youthful reader. It +is just such beautiful books as this which bring to our +minds, in severe contrast, the youth's literature of our +early days—the good little boy who died young and the bad +little boy who went fishing on Sunday and died in prison, +etc., to the end of the threadbare, improbable +chapter."—<i>Rural New Yorker.</i></p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE'S KITTYLEEN</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'Kittyleen'—one of the 'Flaxie Frizzle' series—is a +genuinely helpful as well as delightfully entertaining +story. The nine-year-old Flaxie is worried, beloved, and +disciplined by a bewitching three-year-old tormenter, whose +accomplished mother allows her to prey upon the neighbors. +'Everybody felt the care of Mrs. Garland's children. There +were six of them, and their mother was always painting +china. She did it beautifully, with graceful vines trailing +over it, and golden butterflies ready to alight on sprays of +lovely flowers. Sometimes the neighbors thought it would be +a fine thing if she would keep her little ones at home +rather more; but if she had done that she could not have +painted china.'"—<i>Chicago Tribune.</i></p></div> + +<h3>FLAXIE GROWING UP</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"No more charming stories for the little ones were ever +written than those comprised in the three series which have +for several years past been from time to time added to +juvenile literature by Sophie May. They have received the +unqualified praise of many of the most practical scholars of +New England for their charming simplicity and purity of +sentiment. The delightful story shows the gradual +improvement of dear little Flaxie's character under the +various disciplines of child-life and the sweet influence of +a good and happy home. The illustrations are charming +pictures."—<i>Home Journal.</i></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h4>PENN SHIRLEY'S BOOKS</h4> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3>PENN SHIRLEY'S STORIES</h3> +<h3>FOR THE LITTLE ONES</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Miss Penn Shirley is a very graceful interpreter of +child-life. She thoroughly understands how to reach out to +the tender chord of the little one's feelings, and to +interest her in the noble life of her young companions. Her +stories are full of bright lessons, but they do not take on +the character of moralizing sermons. Her keen observation +and ready sympathy teach her how to deal with the little +ones in helping them to understand the lessons of life. Her +stories are simple and unaffected."—<i>Boston Herald.</i></p></div> + +<h3>THE LITTLE MISS WEEZY SERIES</h3> +<p class="center">Three volumes Illustrated Boxed, each 75 cents</p> + +<h3>LITTLE MISS WEEZY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"One of the freshest and most delightful, because the most +natural, of the stories of the year for children is 'Little +Miss Weezy,' by Penn Shirley. It relates the oddities, the +mischief, the adventures, and the misadventures of a tiny +two-year-old maiden, full of life and spirit, and capable of +the most unexpected freaks and pranks. The book is full of +humor, and is written with a delicate sympathy with the +feelings of children which will make it pleasing to children +and parents alike. Really good child literature is not +over-plenty, despite the multitude of books that come daily +from the press; and it is pleasing to welcome a new author +whose first volume, like this one of Penn Shirley, adds +promise of future good work to actual present +merit."—<i>Boston Courier.</i></p></div> + +<h3>LITTLE MISS WEEZY'S BROTHER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is a good story for young children, bringing in the +same characters as 'Little Miss Weezy' of last year, and +continuing the history of a very natural and wide-awake +family of children. The doings and the various 'scrapes' of +Kirke, the brother, form a prominent feature of the book, +and are such as we may see any day in the school or home +life of a well-cared-for and good-intentioned little boy. +There are several quite pleasing full-page +illustrations."—<i>The Dial.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We should like to see the person who thinks it 'easy enough +to write for children' attempt a book like the 'Miss Weezy' +stories. Excepting Sophie May's childish classics, we don't +know of anything published as bright as the sayings and +doings of the little Louise and her friends. Their pranks +and capers are no more like Dotty Dimple's than those of one +bright child are like another's, but they are just as 'cute' +as those of the little folks that play in your yard or +around your neighbor's doorsteps."—<i>Journal of Education.</i></p></div> + +<h3>LITTLE MISS WEEZY'S SISTER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is one of the best of the series, and will please every +child who reads it. It is brought out just at the holiday +time, and is brimful of good things. Every character in it +is true to nature, and the doings of a bright lot of +children, in which Miss Mary Rowe figures conspicuously, +will entertain grown folks as well as little ones."</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is a thoroughly clever and delightful story of +child-life, gracefully told, and charming in its blending of +humor and pathos. The children in the book are real +children, and the pretty plot through which they move is +fully in harmony with the characters. The young ones will +find it a storehouse of pleasant things pleasantly related, +and a book that will appeal at once to their sentiments and +sympathies."—<i>Boston Gazette.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A book that will hold the place of honor on the nursery +bookshelf until it falls to pieces from much handling is +'Little Miss Weezy's Sister,' a simple, yet absorbing story +of children who are interesting because they are so real. It +is doing scant justice to say for the author, Penn Shirley, +that the annals of child-life have seldom been traced with +more loving care."—<i>Boston Times.</i></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h2>Sophie May's Complete Works</h2> + + + +<h3>LITTLE FOLKS' BOOKS</h3> + +<h4>Illustrated. Per Volume, 75 cents</h4> +<h3><i>LITTLE PRUDY'S CHILDREN</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>Wee Lucy</li> +<li>Wee Lucy's Secret</li> +<li>Jimmy Boy</li> +<li>Jimmy, Lucy, and All</li> +<li>Kyzie Dunlee</li> +<li>Lucy in Fairyland</li> +</ul> + + +<h3><i>LITTLE PRUDY STORIES</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>Little Prudy</li> +<li>Little Prudy's Sister Susy</li> +<li>Little Prudy's Captain Horace</li> +<li>Little Prudy's Cousin Grace</li> +<li>Little Prudy's Story Book</li> +<li>Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple</li> +</ul> + + + +<h3><i>DOTTY DIMPLE SERIES</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmother's</li> +<li>Dotty Dimple Out West</li> +<li>Dotty Dimple at School</li> +<li>Dotty Dimple at Home</li> +<li>Dotty Dimple at Play</li> +<li>Dotty Dimple's Flyaway</li> +</ul> + +<h3><i>LITTLE PRUDY FLYAWAY SERIES</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>Little Folks Astray</li> +<li>Prudy Keeping House</li> +<li>Aunt Madge's Story</li> +<li>Little Grandmother</li> +<li>Little Grandfather</li> +<li>Miss Thistledown</li> +</ul> + +<h3><i>FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>Flaxie Frizzle</li> +<li>Doctor Papa</li> +<li>Little Pitchers</li> +<li>Twin Cousins</li> +<li>Flaxie's Kittyleen</li> +<li>Flaxie Growing Up</li> +</ul> + +<h3><i>THE QUINNEBASSET SERIES</i></h3> +<h4>Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume, $1.25</h4> +<ul> +<li>The Doctor's Daughter</li> +<li>Quinnebasset Girls</li> +<li>In Old Quinnebasset</li> +<li>Our Helen</li> +<li>The Asbury Twins</li> +<li>Janet; A Poor Heiress</li> +</ul> + +<p>HER FRIEND'S LOVER. Cloth, $1.00</p> +<p class="f2">PAULINE WYMAN. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25</p> +<p class="f3">JOY BELLS. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25</p> + +<h4>ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY</h4> +<h4>Illustrated Catalogue sent by mail postpaid</h4> +<h2>Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., Boston</h2> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Prudy, by Sophie May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE PRUDY *** + +***** This file should be named 24711-h.htm or 24711-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/1/24711/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Prudy + +Author: Sophie May + +Release Date: February 28, 2008 [EBook #24711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE PRUDY *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: THE A. B. C. SCHOLARS.] + + + Little Prudy Stories + + + + LITTLE PRUDY + + + + + + BY + + + SOPHIE MAY + + Author of "Little Prudy Stories," "Dotty Dimple Stories," + "Flaxie Frizzle Stories," "Little Prudy's Flyaway Series," + "Little Prudy's Children Series," "Pauline Wyman," "Joy Bells," etc. + + + + + + BOSTON + + LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1891, BY REBECCA S. CLARKE. + + * * * * * + + + + +DEDICATION + + +TO THE LITTLE PUBLIC + +A Merry Christmas, dear Children + +You who have read of Prudy Parlin, in the "Congregationalist" and +"Little Pilgrim," and have learned to love her there, may love her +better in a book by herself with pictures. + +To you who never saw her before, we will introduce her now. It is easy +to feel acquainted with Prudy; for she is, as you will find, a very +talkative little lady. + +There is no end of things which might be told of Susy, Grace, and +Horace; and if you wish to hear more about them, you have only to wait +a little while. + +God is sending us another year as fresh and clean as the purest paper. +Let us thank Him for it, and try to write it over with kind thoughts +and good deeds; then it will be for all of us + +_A HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAP. + +I. PRUDY'S PATCHWORK, + +II. PRUDY GOING UP TO HEAVEN, + +III. PRUDY'S KNITTING-WORK, + +IV. PRUDY'S PICNIC, + +V. PRUDY IN THE PINES, + +VI. PRUDY SICK, + +VII. PRUDY'S PRESENT, + +VIII. PRUDY FISHING, + +IX. THE HATCHET STORY, + +X. MORE STORIES, + +XI. PRUDY'S WHITE TEA, + +XII. PRUDY TRYING TO HELP, + +XIII. THE GYPSY SUPPER, + +XIV. THE ANGEL-BABY, + +XV. GOING HOME, + + * * * * * + + + + +LITTLE PRUDY + +CHAPTER I + +PRUDY'S PATCHWORK + + +I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always +saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble. + +Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years +older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer +they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother. + +At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, and +Prudy was between three and four. Susy could sew quite well for a +girl of her age, and had a stint every day. Prudy always thought it +very fine to do just as Susy did, so she teased her mother to let +_her_ have some patchwork, too, and Mrs. Parlin gave her a few calico +pieces, just to keep her little fingers out of mischief. + +But when the squares were basted together, she broke needles, pricked +her fingers, and made a great fuss; sometimes crying, and wishing +there were no such thing as patchwork. + +One morning she sat in her rocking-chair, doing what she thought was a +"_stint_." She kept running to her mother with every stitch, saying, +"Will that do?" Her mother was very busy, and said, "My little +daughter must not come to me." So Prudy sat down near the door, and +began to sew with all her might; but soon her little baby sister came +along, looking so cunning, that Prudy dropped her needle, and went to +hugging her. + +"O, little sister," cried she, "I wouldn't have a horse come and eat +you up for any thing in the world!" + +After this, of course, her mother had to get her another needle, and +then thread it for her. She went to sewing again till she pricked her +finger, and the sight of the wee drop of blood made her cry. + +"O, dear! I wish somebody would pity me!" But her mother was so busy +frying doughnuts that she could not stop to talk much; and the next +thing she saw of Prudy she was at the farther end of the room, while +her patchwork lay on the spice box. + +"Prudy, Prudy, what are you up to now?" + +"Up to the table," said Prudy. "O, mother, I'm so sorry, but I've +broke a crack in the pitcher!" + +"What will mamma do with you? You haven't finished your stint--what +made you get out of your chair?" + +"O, I thought grandma might want me to get her _speckles_. I thought I +would go and find Zip too. See, mamma, he's so tickled to see me he +shakes all over--every bit of him!" + +"Where's your patchwork?" + +"I don't know. You've got a double name, haven't you, doggie? It's Zip +Coon, but it isn't a _very_ double name,--is it, mother?" + +When Mrs. Parlin had finished her doughnuts, she said, "Pussy, you +can't keep still two minutes. Now, if you want to sew this patchwork +for grandma's quilt, I'll tell you what I shall do. There's an empty +hogshead in the back kitchen, and I'll lift you into that, and you +can't climb out. I'll lift you out when your stint is done." + +"O, what a funny little house," said Prudy, when she was inside; and +as she spoke, her voice startled her--it was so loud and hollow. "I'll +talk some more," thought she, "it makes such a queer noise.--'Old Mrs. +Hogshead, I thought I'd come and see you, and bring my work. I like +your house, ma'am, only I should think you'd want some windows. I +s'pose you know who I am, Mrs. Hogshead? My name is Prudy. My mother +didn't put me in here because I was a naughty girl, for I haven't done +nothing--nor nothing--nor nothing. Do you want to hear some singing? + + 'O, come, come away, + From labor now reposin'; + Let _busy Caro, wife of Barrow_, + Come, come away!'" + +"Prudy, what's the matter?" said mamma, from the next room. + +"Didn't you hear somebody singing?" said Prudy; "well, 'twas me." + +"O, I was afraid you were crying, my dear." + +"Then I'll stop," said the child. "Now, Mrs. Hogshead, you won't hear +me singing any more,--it _mortifies_ my mother very much." + +So Prudy made her fingers fly, and soon said, "Now, mamma, I've got it +done, and I'm ready to be _took out_!" + +Just then her father came into the house. "Prudy's in the hogshead," +said Mrs. Parlin. "Won't you please lift her out, father? I've got +baby in my arms." + +Mr. Parlin peeped into the hogshead. "How in this world did you ever +get in here, child?" said he. "I think I'll have to take you out with +a pair of tongs." + +Prudy laughed. + +"Give me your hands," said papa. "Up she comes! Now, come sit on my +knee," added he, when they had gone into the parlor, "and tell me how +you climbed into that hogshead." + +"Mother dropped me in, and I'm going to stay there till I make a +bedquilt, only I'm coming out to eat, you know." + +Mr. Parlin laughed; but just then the dinner bell rang, and when they +went to the table, Prudy was soon so busy with her roasted chicken and +custard pie that she forgot all about the patchwork. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +PRUDY GOING UP TO HEAVEN + + +Prudy soon tired of sewing, and her mother said, laughing, "If grandma +Read has to wait for somebody's little fingers before she gets a +bedquilt, poor grandma will sleep very cold indeed." + +The calico pieces went into the rag-bag, and that was the last of +Prudy's patchwork. + +One day the children wanted to go and play in the "new house," which +was not quite done. Mrs. Parlin was almost afraid little Prudy might +get hurt, for there were a great many loose boards and tools lying +about, and the carpenters, who were at work on the house, had all gone +away to see some soldiers. But at last she said they might go if Susy +would be very careful of her little sister. + +I dare say Susy meant to watch Prudy with great care, but after a +while she got to thinking of something else. The little one wanted to +play "catch," but Susy saw a great deal more sport in building block +houses. + +"Now I know ever so much more than you do," said Susy. "I used to wash +dishes and scour knives when I was four years old, and that was the +time I learned you to walk, Prudy; so you ought to play with me, and +be goody." + +"Then I will; but them blocks is too big, Susy. If I had _a axe_ I'd +chop 'em: I'll go get _a axe_." Little Prudy trotted off, and Susy +never looked up from her play, and did not notice that she was gone a +long while. + +By and by Mrs. Parlin thought she would go and see what the children +were doing; so she put on her bonnet and went over to the "new house." +Susy was still busy with her blocks, but she looked up at the sound of +her mother's footsteps. + +"Where is Prudy?" said Mrs. Parlin, glancing around. + +"I'm 'most up to heaven," cried a little voice overhead. + +They looked, and what did they see? Prudy herself standing on the +highest beam of the house! She had climbed three ladders to get there. +Her mother had heard her say the day before that "she didn't want to +shut up her eyes and die, and be all deaded up--she meant to have her +hands and face clean, and go up to heaven on a ladder." + +"O," thought the poor mother, "she is surely on the way to heaven, for +she can never get down alive. My darling, my darling!" + +Poor Susy's first thought was to call out to Prudy, but her mother +gave her one warning glance, and that was enough: Susy neither spoke +nor stirred. + +Mrs. Parlin stood looking up at her--stood as white and still as if +she had been frozen! Her trembling lips moved a little, but it was in +prayer; she knew that only God could save the precious one. + +While she was begging Him to tell her what to do, a sudden thought +flashed across her mind. She dared not speak, lest the sound of her +voice should startle the child; but she had a bunch of keys in her +pocket, and she jingled the keys, holding them up as high as +possible, that Prudy might see what they were. + +When the little one heard the jingling, she looked down and smiled. +"You goin' to let me have some cake and 'serves in the china closet, +me and Susy?" + +Mrs. Parlin smiled--such a smile! It was a great deal sadder than +tears, though Prudy did not know that--she only knew that it meant +"yes." + +"O, then I'm coming right down, 'cause I like cake and 'serves. I +won't go up to heaven till _bime-by_!" + +Then she walked along the beam, and turned about to come down the +ladders. Mrs. Parlin held her breath, and shut her eyes. She dared not +look up, for she knew that if Prudy should take one false step, she +must fall and be dashed in pieces! + +But Prudy was not wise enough to fear any thing. O, no. She was only +thinking very eagerly about crimson jellies and fruit cake. She crept +down the ladders without a thought of danger--no more afraid than a +fly that creeps down the window-pane. + +The air was so still that the sound of every step was plainly heard, +as her little feet went pat,--pat,--on the ladder rounds. God was +taking care of her,--yes, at length the last round was reached--she +had got down--she was safe! + +"Thank God!" cried Mrs. Parlin, as she held little Prudy close to her +heart; while Susy jumped for joy, exclaiming,-- + +"We've got her! we've got her! O, ain't you so happy, mamma?" + +"O, mamma, what you crying for?" said little Prudy, clinging about +her neck. "Ain't I your little comfort?--there, now, you know what you +_speaked_ about! You said you'd get some cake and verserves for me and +Susy." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PRUDY'S KNITTING-WORK + + +Susy felt as if she had been sadly to blame, and for a long time was +very watchful of her little sister. + +"Your name is Susy," said the child; "and your middle name is _Sister +Susy_, and you take the care o' me!" + +"No, I don't," thought Susy to herself. "If I had taken any care of +you at all, you wouldn't have climbed those ladders." + +When Prudy was four years old, she teased to go to school, and her +mother decided to let her go until she grew tired of it. + +"O, dear!" sighed Susy, the first day she took her; "she'll talk out +loud, I just about know she will, she's such a little chatter-box." + +"Poh; no I shan't," said Prudy. "I ain't a _checker-box_, Susy Parlin; +but you are! I shan't talk in school, nor I shan't whisper, never in +my world!" + +When they got home that night, Mrs. Parlin asked if Prudy had +whispered in school. + +"No, ma'am. I never done such a thing--I guess. Did I, Susy? How much +I _didn't_ talk to you, don't you know?" + +"O, she was _pretty_ good, mother," said Susy; "but she cried once so +I had to go out with her." + +"Now, Susy Parlin, you _told_ me to cry! She _did_, mamma. She said if +I'd cry she'd give me a piece of her doughnut." + +Susy blushed; and her mother looked at her, and said, "I would like +to see you alone a little while, Susy." + +Then Mrs. Parlin had a talk with Susy in the parlor, and told her how +wrong it was to deceive, and how she must take the care of her little +sister, and set her good examples. + +Susy said she would do as well as she could. + +"But, mamma, if you are willing, I'd rather not sit with Prudy, now, +certainly. She says such queer things. Why, to-day she said she had +grandma's rheumatism in her back, and wanted me to look at her +_tongue_ and see if she hadn't. Why, mother, as true as I live, she +shut up her eyes and put out her tongue right there in school, and of +course we girls couldn't help laughing!" + +"Well, perhaps she'd better sit by herself," replied Mrs. Parlin, +smiling. "I will speak to the teacher about her carrying her +knitting-work--that may keep her out of mischief." + +Now it happened that grandma Read had taken a great deal of pains to +teach Prudy to knit;--but such a piece of work as the child made of +it! + +The first time she carried the thing which she supposed was going to +be a stocking, the A B C scholars looked very much surprised, for none +of them knew how to knit. + +Prudy said, "Poh, I know how to do it just as easy!" + +But in trying to show them how smart she could be, she knit so fast +that she dropped a stitch every other moment. + +"There, now, you are dropping stitches like every thing," said Lottie +Palmer, very much pleased. "I guess I know how to do _that_!" + +"Poh, them's nothing but the _loops_," said Prudy. + +But it was not long before she broke the yarn short off, and got her +work into such a fix that she had to take it home and ask grandma to +"fix it out." + +"Why, child, where's the ball?" said her grandmother. "And here's two +needles gone!" + +"O, I left 'em to school, I s'pose," said Prudy. "I'm sure I never +noticed 'em." + +"I found the ball under the teacher's desk _once_," said Susy. + +"Well, 'tain't there now," replied Prudy; "it's all _wounded_ now, and +I put it where it b'longs." + +"Where's that?" asked grandma, laughing. + +"Well, I don't know," answered Prudy, trying to think; "but I guess +it's _somewhere_." + +Mrs. Parlin began to think it was a foolish plan to let Prudy take her +knitting-work. I was going to mention something she did the last day +she carried it. She got tired of knitting, tired of twisting her +pretty curls round her finger, and tired of looking at pictures. + +"Let's guess riddles," she whispered to Nancy Glover, who sat on the +bench beside her. "I can make up riddles just as easy! There's +something in this room, in Miss Parker's watch-pocket, goes +_tick--tick_. Now guess that:--that's a riddle." + +"I wish you'd behave, Prudy Parlin," said Nancy. "Here I am trying to +get my spelling lesson." + +Then Nancy turned her head a little to one side, and went to studying +as hard as she could, for it was almost time for her class to be +called. + +All at once Prudy happened to look at Nancy's ear, and thought, "What +funny little holes folks have in their ears! I s'pose they go clear +through. I guess I'll put my knitting-needle right through Nannie's +ear while she's a-studyin'. The needle will look so funny stickin' out +at the other end!" + +So Prudy was very sly about it, and said not a word, but began to push +in the needle with all her might. + +O, such sharp screams as Nannie gave! The teacher was frightened; but +when she found that Nannie was not so _very_ badly hurt after all, she +felt easier about her, and began to talk to little Prudy, asking her +"why she didn't sit still, like a lady, and _mind_?" + +Prudy began to cry. "I _was_ a-mindin'," said she; "of course I was. I +never knew 'twas a-goin' to hurt her." + +Miss Parker smiled, and said, "Well, you needn't bring that +knitting-work here any more. The next thing we should have somebody's +_eyes_ put out." + +When Miss Parker called out the next class in spelling, Nannie sat +with her head down, feeling very cross. "I don't like you, Prudy," +said she. "You 'most killed me! I'll pay you for this, now you see!" + +Miss Parker had to call Nannie by name before she would go to her +class. She was three or four years older than Prudy, and ought to have +known better than to be angry with such a little child. She should +have forgotten all about it: that would have been the best way. But +instead of that, she kept thinking,-- + +"O, how that knitting-needle did hurt! Prudy ought to be ashamed! I'll +pay her for it, now you see!" + +You may be sure Prudy did not worry her little brains about it at all. + +Her mother was brushing her hair next morning for school, and Mr. +Parlin said,-- + +"Don't you think she's too little to go to school, mother? I don't +care about her learning to read yet awhile." + +Mrs. Parlin smiled in a droll way. "I should be very sorry myself to +have Prudy learn to read," replied she; "but she won't keep still long +enough: you needn't be a bit afraid." + +"Look here, Prudy," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, "can you spell any words?" + +"Poh! yes, sir, I guess I can," replied Prudy, her eyes looking very +bright, "I can spell 'most all there is to spell." + +"O, ho," laughed Mr. Parlin. "Let's hear you spell your own name. +Can't do it, can you?" + +"Poh! yes, I can! That ain't nothin'. Pre-ed, Prood, Pre-i-eddy, +Prudy. There!" + +"Bravo!" cried papa. "You're getting ahead, I declare! Now can you +spell Susy's name?" + +"Spell Susy? Why, I can do it just as easy!" replied Prudy, her eyes +shining very bright indeed. "C-ez, Sooz, C-i-ezzy, Susy. There! Can't +I spell?" + +"Why, I should think you could," said papa, laughing. "I can't begin +to spell the way you do. Now can you spell _Cat_?" + +"Cat? _Cat?_" repeated Prudy, looking puzzled. "Well, I guess I've +forgot how to spell cat. But I can spell _Kitty_. You just hear! +Kee-et, kit, kee-i-etty, kitty! I can spell the big words the best." + +"What think now?" said Mrs. Parlin. "The truth is, Prudy knew eight +letters when she began to go to school, and now she knows but four." + +"Glad of it," returned Mr. Parlin. "Are you ready for school, little +one?" And he held out his arms, saying,-- + + "And now, my own dear little girl, + There is no way but this-- + Put your arms about my neck, + And give me one sweet kiss." + +So Prudy hugged and kissed her father "just as hard." Then she and +Susy trudged along to school, and they met Nancy Glover, who was +carrying something in her apron. + +"Mayn't I see what you've got?" said little Prudy. + +"Not till I get ready," said Nancy. "Who stuck that knitting-needle +into my ear?" + +"You know she didn't mean to," said Susy. + +"I don't care," cried Nancy, "it _hurt_!" + +Prudy felt very sorry. "I wish I hadn't hurt you, Nanny," said she, +"'cause I want to see what you've got in your apron." + +"Well, I guess you'll see it soon enough. I brought it to school _to +purpose_ for you." + +"O, did you?" cried the child. "How good you are, Nanny. I love you +'most as well as I do Susy." + +When little Prudy spoke so sweetly, Nancy didn't know what to say; so +she said nothing. They went into the school-house and took their +seats, Nancy keeping the corner of her apron rolled up all the while. + +By and by, when Miss Parker was hearing the third class, Nancy +whispered,-- + +"Look here, Prudy Parlin, you wanted to know what I had in my apron: +shall I show you now?" + +"O, goody!" + +"Well, then," continued Nanny,-- + + "'Open your mouth and shut your eyes, + And I'll give you something to make you wise!'" + +So Prudy opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and squeezed her +eyelids together very hard. + +Then what should Nancy do, but take out of her apron _a wee bit of a +toad_, and drop it in Prudy's mouth! I can't see how she dared do such +a thing; but she did it. She had found the toad in the street, and +picked it up to frighten little Prudy. + +The moment the toad was dropped on the child's tongue of course it +began to hop. Prudy hopped too. She seized her tongue with one hand +and the toad with the other, screaming at the top of her voice. + +The scholars were all frightened to hear such a scream, and to see +Prudy running out to the teacher so fast. + +"Do tell me what ails you?" said Miss Parker. + +By that time Prudy had got rid of the toad, and could speak. + +"O, dear, dear, _dear_," cried she, "I didn't know it was a toad till +it hopped right up!" + +"A _toad_ here in the house!" cried Miss Parker. + +"No, ma'am," said Prudy, trembling and sobbing. "It wasn't in the +house,--it was in my mouth,--right here on my tongue." + +Prudy showed Miss Parker her tongue. Miss Parker laughed, thinking her +a very funny child. + +"I've heard, before now, of little folks having frogs in their +throats," said she. "Is that what you mean?" + +"I guess so," sobbed Prudy. "And it was alive--just as alive as could +be! O, O!--Nancy, she told me to shut up my eyes, you know, and I +didn't see the toad till it hopped right up in my mouth,--and _then_ I +didn't see it! O, O!" + +"Nancy, come here," said Miss Parker, sternly. "What have you been +doing to this little child?" + +Nancy came out, with her fingers in her mouth, but did not speak. + +"Answer me; did you drop a toad into Prudy's mouth?" + +"Yes," replied Nancy, sulkily; "but she stuck a knitting-needle into +my ear _fust_!" + +"For shame, you wicked child," said Miss Parker. "Take up that toad, +Nancy, and carry it out of doors; then come to me, for I must punish +you." + +"Now, Prudy," added Miss Parker, "what do you think I ought to do to +Nancy for being so naughty?" + +"I don't know," answered Prudy, crying still. "I don't s'pose my +mother would be willing to have folks put toads in my mouth." + +"But what do you think I ought to do to her?" said Miss Parker, +smiling. + +"Was you goin' to whip her?" asked Prudy, looking up through her +tears. + +"I think I must, my child." + +"Well, I hope you won't hurt her," said dear little Prudy. "Please to +don't." + +But Miss Parker struck Nancy with a piece of whalebone, and hurt her a +good deal. It was the only way to make Nancy remember not to do such a +cruel trick again. + +When Prudy saw how much Nancy was hurt, it was more than her tender +heart could bear. She ran up to Miss Parker, and caught hold of the +skirt of her dress, hiding her head in it. + +"O, Miss Parker!" said she, "I've got to cry. Nanny won't do so no +more. The toad was just as alive as could be, but it never bit a bit! +O, _won't you please to don't!_" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +PRUDY'S PICNIC + + +This was about the last of Prudy's going to school. In the first place +she was very tired of it, in the second place it was vacation, and in +the third place the whole family were going to Willowbrook on a visit. + +It was very pleasant at grandpa Parlin's at any time. Such a stout +swing in the big oil-nut tree! Such a beautiful garden, with a +summer-house in it! Such a nice cosy seat in the trees! So many "cubby +holes" all about to hide in! + +But this summer I speak of was pleasanter than ever; for the Western +cousins, Grace and Horace Clifford, had come from Indiana to visit +their friends in Maine. The Parlin children had not seen them for two +years; but Grace and Susy became fast friends in a very short time, +while little Prudy was thrown one side for Horace to take care of when +he could stop. + +"O dear suz," said she, one morning, "I'm so glad there happened to be +a world, and God made me!" + +"What, you here, Prudy?" said grandma Parlin. "What made you get up so +early?" + +"O, the flies waked me, I s'pose. I was dreaming about my _pignig_. I +thought I had it on top o' the trees." + +"Ah, it's the day for Grace's party, sure enough," said her +grandmother, sighing a little, and stirring faster at her drop-cake. + +"You mean _my_ party," said Prudy, dancing around the table. "The +party b'longs to me. You didn't know that, _did_ you?" + +"You'd better go and talk to your aunt Madge," said grandma, "I'm +busy." + +"O," said Prudy, "I guess you ain't glad I got up. I tried to keep +asleep, grandma, but the flies waked me." + +Prudy was going out of the room, but turned and came back. + +"Grandma," said she, "if you love me, why don't you hug me?" + +"O, I can't stop, dear," said grandma, laughing; "we can't hug little +girls all the time." + +But she did it. + +After a while Grace, and Horace, and Susy came down stairs, and then +there was a great time. As soon as breakfast was over, kind aunt +Madge promised to make out a list of the little folks to be invited. + +"First of all," said she, "are you going to have boys and girls, or +only girls?" + +"O, we don't want any boys," said cousin Grace, tossing her head; +"they race round, and act so." + +"Of course we don't want 'em," said Susy. "I'd laugh if we'd got to +have a lot of noisy boys." + +"Poh! we don't want boys," echoed Prudy. "They are pickin' fusses all +the time." + +Cousin Horace stood by aunt Madge's chair, looking quite forlorn, but +too proud to say a word. + +"See here, Horace," said Grace, very grandly, "we think you'd better +go a-strawberrying to-day." + +"I reckon I won't if I don't want to," said Horace, working the flag +out of his cap. He knew the girls thought he was almost always in the +way. + +"I want to tell you something, Horace," said aunt Madge, stroking his +hair. "Mr. Allen is going out to North Pond with some other gentleman, +fishing, and I begged him to let you go; and he said he would, though +he wouldn't take the girls for any thing." + +"There, girls," cried Horace, with beaming face. "Did Mr. Allen truly +say so, auntie? Of course he wouldn't have girls go. If we caught a +fish, how they would scream; wouldn't they, though?" + +Horace darted off to find Mr. Allen, and so he was out of the girls' +way. + +"Now," said aunt Madge, smiling, "tell me what girls you want to ask, +Grace." + +So they gave several names--Grace and Susy--which Prudy repeated after +them. + +"But where is Abby Grant?" said aunt Madge. "Don't you want her?" + +Grace and Susy looked at each other without speaking. Prudy looked at +them. + +"I don't go with such poor girls when I'm home," said Grace. + +"Nor I don't," said Susy. + +"Nor me neither," chimed in little Prudy, glad to know what to say. + +Aunt Madge shook her curly head. "I guess you mustn't have a party," +said she, "if you slight good little girls because they are poor. Why, +I should ask her a great deal quicker, because it isn't often she has +any thing nice to eat at home." + +"So would I," said Grace, looking ashamed. "You may put her name down, +auntie." + +"Yes, put her name down, auntie," said Prudy. + +Such a time as there was to get ready for that party! Aunt Madge and +aunt Louise worked with all their might, cooking nice things, and the +children were too happy to keep still. Susy's mother had gone back to +Portland. + +When the first little girl arrived, Grace and Susy hadn't the +slightest idea what to do with her, and aunt Madge had to go in and +set them to playing "Puss in the corner." + +The next girl that came was Abby Grant. + +"I s'posed ye wouldn't come," said Prudy. "We never asked you." + +"Why, child," said Grace, blushing, "yes we did ask her, too." + +"O, so we did," said foolish little Prudy. "We asked you, Abby, 'cause +you don't get any thing nice to eat to your house!" + +Grace didn't shake Prudy, only because she didn't dare to. In a few +minutes all the little girls had come, and the whole party went into +the front yard to play. Aunt Madge made believe she was a little girl, +and played "Ring Round Rosy," "Catch," and "Button," as hard as any +body. When they had played till they were all out of breath, aunt +Louise sent them to the summer-house in the garden to rest, while she +and aunt Madge set the table in the front yard. O, the apple puffs, +and lemon tarts, and little seed cakes, and frosted cake, and candy, +looked so good to poor little Abby Grant! Then the raspberries, like +red coral, and the white currants, like round pearls! Then the +flowers, fresh from the garden! + +The children sat on the double steps of the long piazza to eat their +supper. They had plenty of room, and it was nice fun to peep round the +great white pillars at their neighbors' plates, and whisper to one +another, "I'm having a grand time, ain't you?" "What splendid cake!" +"Don't you wish you lived here?" + +And the two aunties smiled, and said to each other,-- + +"It is worth all our trouble to see these children so happy." + +After the table was cleared away they sang several pieces, and Prudy's +sweet little voice filled all the pauses with some funny little chorus +of her own. + +When the party broke up, the children were quite tired out, and glad +to go to bed. + +"Well," said Grace, as they went slowly upstairs, "didn't my picnic go +off nicely?" + +"_Your_ pignig?" said Prudy; "why it b'longs to _me_! I had it +myself." + +"Hush," said Susy. "Cousin Grace came two thousand miles to see us, +and grandma promised her this party, and she had it." + +"There, now, Susy," said Prudy, much grieved, "I've got a cent, and I +_was_ goin' to buy you some shiny shoes, but now I shan't." + +Grace and Susy could not help laughing, and poor tired little Prudy +could not bear that. + +"There," cried she, "don't you do that again! If you'll say 'twas _my_ +pignig, Susy Parlin, then I'll kiss you; but if you say it isn't, I +won't speak to you again--never in my world!" + +"Well, it wasn't your picnic--so there," said Susy. + +Prudy settled her cheek to the pillow. + +"Susy Parlin," said she, drowsily, "I ain't a-goin' to speak to you +again--till--you--say--'twas--my--pig----" + +But in the middle of a word Prudy made a mistake and dropped off to +sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +PRUDY IN THE PINES + + +"No, my dears," said grandma. "I couldn't consent to let you go +strawberrying 'up by the Pines' as you call it. It is Mr. Judkins's +mowing-field." + +"But, grandma," said Grace, "Johnny Gordon went there yesterday, and +there wasn't any fuss about it." + +"Then you may be sure Mr. Judkins did not know it," said grandma. "If +he should catch any children in his field, he would be sure to give +them a severe scolding." + +"Besides," chimed in aunt Madge, "Prudy isn't fit to walk so far--she +isn't very well." + +"No, she is quite out of sorts," said grandma. "So if you must go +somewhere, you may take your little baskets and go out in the meadow +on the other side of the cornfield. Only take good care of Prudy; now +remember." + +"Grandma always says that over," said Susy, as the three children were +on their way to the meadow; "and aunt Madge always says it too--'take +care of Prudy!' As if she were a little baby." + +"That is all because she cries so much, I presume," said Grace, +looking at poor Prudy rather sternly. "I did hope, Susy, that when +Horace went down to the 'crick' fishing, you and I might go off by +ourselves, and have a nice time for once. But here is 'little Pitcher' +right at our heels. We never can have any peace. Little Miss Somebody +thinks she must follow, of course." + +"Yes, that's the way it is," said Susy. "Some folks are always round, +you know." + +"Now, Susy," said Prudy, forcing back her tears as well as she could, +"I guess you don't love your little sister, or you wouldn't talk that +way to me." + +They gathered strawberries for a while in silence, Prudy picking more +leaves than berries, and sometimes, in her haste to keep up with the +others, pulling up grass by the roots. + +"Well, I don't think much of this," said Grace; "there ain't more than +ten strawberries in this meadow, and those ain't bigger than peas." + +"O, I know it," said Susy, in the tone of one who has made up her mind +for the worst. "I suppose we've got to stay here, though. We could go +up in the Pines now if it wasn't for Prudy, and they are real thick up +there." + +"Yes," said Grace, "but grandma knew we couldn't without she would be +sure to follow. Do you think Mr. Judkins would be likely to scold, +Susy?" + +"No, indeed," said Susy, eating a dry strawberry. "He keeps sheep, and +goes round talking to himself. I ain't a bit afraid of him. What could +we little girls do to his grass, I'd like to know? It isn't as if we +were great, rude boys, is it, Grace?" + +"No," said Grace, thoughtfully. "Now if we could only get rid of +Prudy----" + +Little Prudy pushed back her "shaker," and looked up, showing a pair +of flushed cheeks damp with tears. + +"I don't think you are very polite to me," said the child. "Bime-by I +shall go to heaven, and I shan't never come back any more, and then I +guess you'll cry." + +"What shall we do?" said Grace, looking at Susy; "we mustn't take her, +and we can't go without her." + +"Well, I'm a-goin' right straight home, right off--that's what I'm +goin' to do," said Prudy, "and when I say my prayers, I shall just +tell God how naughty you be!" + +Prudy turned short about, and the girls went toward the Pines, feeling +far from happy, for a "still, small voice" told them they were doing +wrong. + +They had got about half way up the hill, when, looking back, there was +Prudy, puffing and running for dear life. + +"I thought you had gone home," said Susy, quite vexed. + +"Well, I didn't," said Prudy, who had got her smiles all back again; +"I couldn't get home--'cause--I got my feet 'most damp and some wet. I +won't be no trouble, Susy." + +So the girls made the best of it, and helped little "Mother Bunch" up +the long, steep hill. Prudy had one hearty cry before the long walk +was over. "Her nose fell on a rock," she said; but as it was only +grazed a little, she soon forgot about it. + +"This is something worth while, now," said Grace, after they had at +last reached the field, and were seated in the tall grass. "The +strawberries are as thick as spatter." + +"Yes," said Susy, "and grandma and aunt Madge will be so glad to see +our baskets full they'll certainly be glad we didn't stay in the +meadow. Big as your thumb, ain't they?" + +[Illustration: FLYING FROM THE FIELD.] + +You see the girls were trying to stifle that still, small voice, and +they tried to believe they were having a good time. + +Grace and Susy had got their baskets nearly half full, and Prudy had +covered the bottom of hers with leaves, stems, and a few berries, when +a man's voice was heard muttering, not far off. + +"O Grace," whispered Susy, "that's Mr. Judkins!" + +He carried a whetstone, on which he was sharpening his jackknife. + +"Ah," said he, talking to himself, and not appearing to notice the +girls, "I never would have thought that these little children--ah, +would have come into my field--ah, and trampled down my grass! I shall +hate--ah, to cut off their little ears--ah, and see the blood running +down!" + +I suppose it was not two minutes before the children had left that +field, pulling the screaming Prudy through the bars as roughly as if +she had been a sack of wool instead of flesh and blood,--their hair +flying in the wind, and their poor little hearts pounding against +their sides like trip-hammers. If the field had been on fire they +could not have run faster, dragging helpless Prudy, who screamed all +the way at the very top of her voice. + +Susy and Prudy had thrown away their pretty little baskets. Grace had +pushed hers up her arm, and her sleeve was soaking in the red juice of +the bruised strawberries, while little streams of juice were trickling +down her nice, buff-colored dress, ruining it entirely. + +"You hadn't ought to have took me up there," sobbed Prudy, as soon as +she could find her voice; and these were the first words spoken. + +"O, hush, hush right up!" cried Susy, in terror. "He's after us, to +take us to jail." + +The family were really frightened when the panting children rushed +into the house in such a plight. + +"It was a crazy drunk man," cried Prudy, "and he had a axe----" + +"No," said Grace, "it was that wicked Mr. Judkins, and it was his +jackknife." + +"And he snips off your ears and nose," broke in Prudy, "and blood +comes a-runnin' down, and he kills you dead, and then he puts you in +jail, and then he chased us--don't you hear him comin'?" + +"What does all this mean?" cried grandma and aunt Madge in one +breath. "Have you been in that mowing-field, children?" + +Grace and Susy hung their heads. + +"Yes, they did," said Prudy, "and I wasn't well, and they shouldn't +have gone and took me up there, and 'twas 'cause they were naughty." + +"What shall I do with children that disobey me in this manner?" said +grandma, much displeased. + +"Worst of all," said aunt Madge, pulling off Prudy's shoes, "this +child has got her feet wet, and is sure to be sick." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PRUDY SICK + + +When aunt Madge went up stairs that night she found little Prudy +hiding her head under the pillow, and screaming with fright. + +"O, there I was!" cried the child, tossing up her arms, "all tumbled +out of the window! And the man got me, and I begun to be dead!" + +"Why no, darling!" said aunt Madge, "here is auntie close by you, and +here you are in your pretty white bed;--don't you see?" + +"No, no!" screamed Prudy, "I'm up in the Pines, I ain't here." + +"Perhaps you'd like to have me sing to you," said aunt Madge; and she +began, in a low voice, a little ditty Prudy loved: + + "There was a little darling + I used to know, + And they called her Prudy, + Long time ago." + +"Stop, Nancy," said Prudy, "you put a toad in my mouth!--I must have a +drink--dreffully!" + +Aunt Madge brought some water, but her fingers were not steady, and +the glass trembled against the child's hot lips. She watched till +Prudy dozed again, and then stole softly down stairs to get a "night +candle," and to tell her mother she was really afraid Prudy was going +to be sick. + +But Mrs. Parlin said aunt Madge mustn't be nervous; that children were +very apt to be "out of their heads" in the night, and she was pretty +sure Prudy would wake up bright in the morning. + +Aunt Madge tried to hope so, but she hardly slept a wink, for Prudy +tossed and twisted all night. Sometimes she thought she was picking +berries on the tufted coverlet. Sometimes she cried out that "the +crazy man was coming with a axe." + +When grandma saw her purple cheeks by daylight she did not laugh at +aunt Madge. She brushed the soft curls away from the little one's hot +temples, and said softly,-- + +"How do you feel, Prudy, darling?" + +A wild light burned in the child's eyes. "It isn't Prudy!" screamed +she, "I ain't her! Go 'way! You're goin' to snip off my nose! O, go +right off!" + +You may be sure that Grace and Susy were far from happy that day. When +they noticed that their grandmother grew more and more uneasy, and +when they saw the doctor's gig at the gate, their hearts were very +heavy. + +"O Grace," said Susy, sobbing, "Prudy thought we didn't love her! We +kept saying she was always round. How much do you suppose she is +sick?" + +"O dear, I don't know," said Grace, wringing her hands; "but I'll tell +you one thing--we ought to have seen to her, Susy!" + +"O Grace," said Susy, "you don't begin to feel so bad as I do--you +can't, because you haven't got any little sister. Only think of my +scolding to such a darling little thing as she is!" + +"Come, you go up stairs and see what the doctor says," said Grace; +"you steal in easy." + +"O, I don't dare to," whispered Susy, "I'm all of a tremble." But the +moment their grandmother's step was heard in the passage they flew to +her. + +Mrs. Parlin set her vial down on the hall table. "I don't like to tell +you," said she, shaking her head sadly; "the doctor calls her a very +sick child, and says he is afraid of brain fever." + +"Do they die with that?" cried Susy, seizing hold of her grandmother's +dress. "O, stop a minute; is she going to die?" + +"We hope not," said Mrs. Parlin, "but she is so sick that we shall +send a despatch for your mother. I want you to try and keep the house +still, girls, and coax Horace to stay out of doors." + +"Keep the house still? I guess we will!" said Grace. "O grandma, will +you forgive us for being so naughty yesterday?" + +"Can you forgive us?" said Susy. "I tell you we feel awfully about it, +grandma!" + +Mrs. Parlin took off her spectacles to wipe them. "My dear children," +said she, gravely, "I am ready to forgive you with all my heart; but I +hope that before this you have asked pardon of your dear Father in +heaven. That is the first thing, you know." + +Susy stole off into the nursery, and threw herself on the lounge. + +"O God," sobbed she, "I should think you would hate me, I have acted +so bad! O, can you forgive me, and not take Prudy? I never will do so +again! I didn't mean any thing when I said she was always round. O, +_don't_ let her die and be put in the ground! Please don't, dear God! +Seems to me I love her the best of any body. When we have any fuss, +it's always me that's to blame." + +Here Susy's prayer was drowned in sobs; but her heart felt a little +lighter because she had told her kind Father just how she felt, and if +it was best for Prudy to get well, she was sure he would save her. + +Prudy's mother came in the cars that night, looking pale and troubled. +Prudy did not know her. + +"Why don't you bring my own mamma?" said she. + +"Look at me, darling," said her mother, "here I am, right here. Mother +won't leave her little Prudy again." + +"I ain't Prudy!" screamed the child; "Prudy's gone to heaven. God came +and helped her up the steps." + +One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her little +daughter's beautiful curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer. + +"Ah, sister Madge," said she, "you can't guess how it makes my heart +ache to have my child take me for a stranger." + +"Perhaps she may know you to-morrow," said aunt Madge; though in her +heart she had very little hope of the child. + +But Prudy did not know any body "to-morrow," nor the next day, nor the +next. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! The +terrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks looked +as if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildly +her eyes shone like flames. + +A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sit +by the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk about dear little +Prudy. Horace had the heartache, too, and asked every day,-- + +"_Do_ you think she's going to die?" + +Nobody could answer him, and he had to wait, like all the rest. + +But God did not mean that Prudy should die. At last, after many days, +the fever died out like a fire when it has burned the wood all down to +cinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if a +breath would blow her away like white ashes. I think a little baby, +that tips over if you touch it, could not be weaker than Prudy was +when she began to get well. + +Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, though +never so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lips +like a note of music. + +Her father and mother, and the whole family, were full of joy, and +Grace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over the +pretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should be +well enough to enjoy them. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PRUDY'S PRESENT + + +"Well, dear," said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out of +breath, "what did you call me for? What do you want, little one?" + +"I don't know," said Prudy, "but I guess _I shall_ want somethin' by +and by." + +"There, there, darling," said grandma, "don't cry." + +"No, I won't," said Prudy, trying to stop. "I was a-talkin' to myself, +and I said, 'I won't cry no more,' and then I cried. I don't like to +stay in this country, grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!" + +"Of all things," said grandma, "I don't believe there's a little girl +any where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, and +oranges, and lemons, and----" + +"Well, if I wasn't sick, grandma, and you should ask me to eat some +_smashed potatoes_, and some _pie_, I'd eat 'em," said Prudy, smiling +through her tears. + +"Bless your little heart," cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek. +"Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shall +I bring you to look at?" + +"O, now I know what it is I want," replied Prudy, lifting her head +from the pillow, "I want to eat up the _old lady_!" + +Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out of +candy. + +"O, that's made to be looked at," said grandma. "Let's see--where do +you suppose your little Zip is nowadays? I guess he misses Prudy." + +"I don' know--I _ate_ a little dog once," said Prudy, wiping her eyes. +"He was made out of a doughnut. Once when I lived to Portland--to my +mother's Portland--I used to eat things." + +Poor grandma herself could hardly keep from crying to see Prudy so +hungry. + +"Here is some nice arrow-root," said she. "You may have it all if you +like. You are a darling little girl not to tease for things you ought +not to have." + +"I believe," she went on, looking at patient little Prudy, as she +drained the bowl, "I should like to give such a good child a pretty +present." + +"O, dear me suz!" screamed Prudy, "I'm glad I didn't go to heaven +yet.--Will it be a little wee doll that can live in a thimble?--made +out of sugar?" + +"Well," said grandma, "I don't know, You may be thinking all day what +you would like best. Not to _eat_, dear, but to _keep_, remember. Now +I must go down stairs--but here come Grace and Susy, so you won't be +lonesome." + +It was pleasant to see how softly the little girls entered the room, +and how the glad smiles came and went on Prudy's face when they tried +to amuse her. + +They were dressed in a very funny rig. Susy looked a great deal wiser +than an owl, out of a pair of spectacles without any eyes, and a +flaring cap. Grace had stuck some false hair on her head, and a bonnet +that looked as if a wagon wheel had rolled over it. + +"Fine day, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace; "how have you been, ma'am?" + +"I've been a-thinkin'," said Prudy, smiling, "about my present." + +"You see we've come a-visiting, Mrs. Prudy," said Grace. "Very sorry, +ma'am, to see your doll looking so sick. Has she got the smallpox?" + +"No, ma'am," answered Prudy, delighted, "she's got the measles!" + +"Deary me," said Susy, pushing back her cap, and trying to look +frightened, "how was she taken, ma'am?" + +"Taken?" repeated Prudy, "taken _sick_! She's got it all over her." + +"Poor little creeter!" cried Grace, rolling up her eyes, "how she must +suffer! I hope she's out of her head. Does she have her senses, +ma'am?" + +"Her _what_?" said Prudy. "O, yes'm, she's got 'em. I laid 'em up on +the shelf, to keep 'em for her." + +Here the two visitors turned away their heads to laugh. "What do you +s'pose my present will be?" said Prudy, forgetting their play. "Look +here, Susy, I could take that vase now, and smash it right down on the +floor, and break it, and grandma wouldn't scold--'cause I'm sick, you +know." + +"But you wouldn't do it," said Grace. "O, here come Mr. Allen and aunt +Madge. Now, Mrs. Prudy, you're going to have a ride." + +Mr. Allen laughed to see aunt Madge bundle Prudy so much, and said the +child would be so heavy that he could not carry her in his arms; but I +think he found her only too light after all. + +Prudy almost forgot how hungry she was when she was seated in her +little carriage and wheeled about the pleasant yard. She had an idea +that the trees and the flowers in the garden were having good times, +and the open windows of the house looked as if they were laughing. But +she did not say much, and when aunt Madge asked her what made her so +quiet, she said she was "a-thinkin'." And the most of her small +thoughts were about her present. + +"Now," said Mr. Allen, "I'm going to hold you up so you can peep over +into the pig-pen. There, do you see that little mite of a white +piggy?" + +"O, dear, dear, dear!" cried Prudy, clapping her hands, "what a +cunning little piggy-wiggy! He looks nice enough to eat right up! I +never did see such a darling! O, he winks his eyes--see him! He ain't +dead, is he? Not a mite?" + +"No, my little dear, he's alive enough, if that's all," said Mr. +Allen. + +"O, my stars!" said Prudy, sighing with delight. "Don't you wish you +had such a pretty pink nose, and such little bits of shiny eyes?" + +Mr. Allen laughed. + +"O, so white and nice!" added Prudy. "He hasn't got a speck of red +cheeks, 'cept his nose and little toes. Mayn't he have one of my +oranges? I never did see any thing look so much like a sugar pig." + +It did Mr. Allen and aunt Madge a world of good to see the child so +pleased. + +"Do you know," said she, eagerly, "who that piggy b'longs to?" + +"Why, to grandpa, I suppose." + +"O," said Prudy, very sadly, while the bright color died out of her +cheeks at once, "I didn't know but it b'longed to grandma." + +"Well, you little pet," said aunt Madge, laughing, "what do you care +who it _b'longs_ to? You can look at it all the same, can't you?" + +"But," said Prudy, "do you s'pose----" + +"S'pose what?" + +"Do you s'pose if grandpa thought I was a darlin'----" Prudy could get +no farther. + +"Of course he _knows_ you're a darling!" said aunt Madge. + +"Do you s'pose when I don't tease for things to eat, and grandma says +I may think what I want for a present, he'd be willing I should +have--she should give me that--_piggy_?" + +"O, what a Prudy!" said aunt Madge, laughing till she cried. "Isn't +there something nicer you would like for a present? You'd better +think again." + +"O, no, no," said Prudy, trembling with eagerness. "If grandma should +give me a house full of dolls and candy all rolled up, and every +single present in the world, I'd rather have that piggy." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Allen, "I guess the folks that wouldn't give +their pigs away to Prudy don't live here. Let's go and see." + +They went into the house to see grandpa. Of course he said Yes. + +"Of all the funny presents!" said grandma;--but Prudy was happy, and +that was enough. + +Grandpa was very kind, but there was one thing he would not consent +to--he would not let the pig come into the house. But as he said he +would be sure to take good care of it, and give it sweet milk to +drink, Prudy did not mind so much. + +When she grew stronger she fed it herself, and the pretty creature +knew her, and was glad to see her, Prudy thought. Now she had a great +many presents that summer, but none that pleased her half so well as +the little pet pig. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +PRUDY FISHING + + +One morning, after Prudy was quite well, aunt Madge told her she might +go into the garden and get some currants. While she was picking with +all her might, and breathing very fast, she saw Horace close by, on +the other side of the fence, with a pole in his hand. + +"I thought you was to school!" cried Prudy. + +"Well, I ain't," said Horace, pulling his hat over his eyes, and +looking ashamed. "The teacher don't keep no order, and I won't go to +such a school, so there!" + +"They don't want _me_ to go," said Prudy, "'cause I should know too +much. I can say all my letters now, right down straight, 'thout +looking on, either." + +"O, ho!" cried Horace, trailing his long pole, "you can't say 'em +skipping about, and I shouldn't care, if I was you. But you ought to +know how to fish, Miss. Don't you wish you could drop in your line, +and catch 'em the way I do?" + +"Do they like to have you catch 'em?" said Prudy, dropping her little +dipper, and going to the fence; "don't it hurt?" + +"Hurt? Not as I know of. They needn't bite if they don't want to." + +"No," returned Prudy, looking very wise, "I s'pose they want to get +out, and that's why they bite. Of course when fishes stay in the water +much it makes 'em drown." + +"O, my stars!" cried Horace, laughing, "you ought to live 'out west,' +you're such a cunning little spud. Come, now, here's another fish-pole +for you. I'll show you how to catch one, and I bet 'twill be a +pollywog--you're just big enough." + +"But grandma didn't say I might go down to the river. Wait till I go +ask her." + +"Poh!" said Horace, "no you needn't; I have to hurry. Grandma _always_ +likes it when you go with me, Prudy, because you see I'm a boy, and +she knows I can take care of you twice as well as Grace and Susy can." + +"O," cried Prudy, clapping her little hands, "they won't any of 'em +know I can fish, and how they'll laugh. But there, now, they don't let +me climb the fence--I forgot." + +"Well, give us your bonnet, and then you 'scooch' down, and I'll pull +you through." + +"There," said the naughty boy, when they had got down to the river, +"now I've been and put a bait on the end of your hook, and I plump it +in the water--so. You just hold on to the pole." + +"But it jiggles--it tips me!" cried Prudy; and as she spoke she fell +face downwards on the bank. + +"Well, that's smart!" said Horace, picking her up. "There, you sit +down next time, and I'll prop up the pole with a rock--this way. +There, now, you hold it a little easy, and when you feel a nibble you +let me know." + +"What's a nibble?" asked Prudy, shaking the line. + +"A nibble? Why, it's a bite." + +They sat quite still for some minutes, the hot sun glaring on Prudy's +bare head with its rings of soft golden hair. + +"Now, now!" cried she suddenly, "I've got a nibble!" + +Horace sprang to draw up her line. + +"I feel it right here on my neck," said the child; "I s'pose it's a +fly." + +"Now, look here," said Horace, rather vexed, "you're a little too bad. +You made me drop my line just when I was going to have a nibble. Wait +till you feel the string wiggle, and then speak, but don't scream." + +The children sat still for a few minutes longer, and no sound was +heard but now and then a wagon going over the bridge. But they might +as well have dropped their lines in the sand for all the fish they +caught. Horace began to wish he had gone to school. + +"O dear!" groaned Prudy, getting tired, "I never did see such fishes. +I guess they don't want to be catched." + +"There, now you've spoke again, and scared one away," said Horace. "If +it hadn't been for you I should have got, I don't know how many, by +this time." + +Prudy's lip began to tremble, and two big round tears rose to her +eyes. + +"Poh! crying about that?" said Horace; "you're a nice little girl if +you do talk too much, so don't you cry." + +Horace rather enjoyed seeing Grace and Susy in tears, but could never +bear to have Prudy cry. + +"I'll tell you what it is," said Horace, when Prudy's eyes were clear +again, "I don't think I make much playing hookey." + +"I don't like playing 'hookey' neither," returned Prudy, "'cause the +hooks won't catch 'em." + +"O, you don't know what I mean," laughed Horace. "When we boys 'out +west' stay out of school, we call _that_ playing hookey." + +"O, do you? But I want to go home now, if we can't catch any nibbles." + +"No, I'll tell you what we'll do--we'll walk out on that log, and try +it there." + +The river was quite high, and this was one of the logs that had +drifted down from the "Rips." Prudy was really afraid to walk on it, +because it was "so round," but not liking to be laughed at, she crept +on her hands and knees to the very end of the log, trembling all the +way. + +Horace took the two poles and followed; but the moment he stepped on +the log it rolled quite over, carrying Prudy under. + +I do not know what Horace thought then, but he had to think fast. If +he had been older he might have plunged in after Prudy, but he was +only a little boy, seven years old, so he ran for the house. O, how he +ran! + +Aunt Madge was ironing in the back kitchen. She heard heavy breathing, +and the quick pattering of feet, and the words gasped out, "Prudy's in +the river!" + +"Prudy!" screamed aunt Madge, looking wildly at the boy's face, which +was as white as death. + +"Run, tell grandpa!" cried she, and flew down the steps, and out +across the field towards the river, as if she had wings on her +slippers, though it seemed to her they were clogged with lead. + +"Has she just been saved from death only to be drowned?" was one of +the quick thoughts that rushed across aunt Madge's dizzy brain. "I +shall be too late! too late! And her mother gone! God forgive me! It +is I who should have watched her!" + +Poor aunt Madge! as if any one was to blame but Horace. + +There was a child crying down by the river. + +"Not Prudy," thought aunt Madge. "It sounds like her voice, but it +can't be. She has sunk by this time!" + +"Don't be afraid, Prudy!" cried Mr. Allen, who was just behind aunt +Madge, "we are running to you." + +The cry came up louder: it was Prudy's voice. + +Mr. Allen leaped the fence at a bound, and ran down the bank. The +child was out of the water, struggling to climb the bank, but +slipping back at every step. She was dripping wet, and covered with +sand. + +Mr. Allen lifted her in his arms, and there she lay, sobbing as if her +heart would break, but not speaking a word. + +When she was lying, clean and warm, in soft blankets, and had had a +nap, she told them how she got out. + +"The log kept jiggling," said she, "and I couldn't hold on, but I did. +I thought my father would say I was a nice little girl not to get +drowned, and let the fishes eat me up, and so I kept a-holdin' on." + +"Only think," said grandma, shuddering, and looking at Horace, "if +Prudy hadn't held on!" + +Horace seemed very sad and humble, and was still quite pale. + +"It makes you feel mortified, don't it, 'Race?" said Prudy, smiling; +"don't you feel as if you could cry?" + +At these first words little Prudy had spoken to him since she fell +into the water, the boy ran out of the room, and hid in the green +chamber, for he never would let any one see him cry. + +"O, won't you forgive him?" said Prudy, looking up into Mrs. +Clifford's face; "won't you forgive him, aunt 'Ria? he feels so bad; +and he didn't catch a fish, and he didn't mean to,--and--'twas the log +that jiggled." + +So Horace was forgiven for Prudy's sake. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HATCHET STORY + + +One night the children clustered about their aunt Madge, begging for a +story. + +"Fairy, you know," said Susy. + +"A fairy story?" repeated aunt Madge. "I don't know about that. I told +a little boy a fairy story once, and he went right off and whispered +to his mother that I was a very wicked lady, for that story wasn't +true, not a bit; and if a baby six months old should hear it, he +wouldn't believe a word of it!" + +"Poh! he was a smart boy," cried Horace. + +"So I am afraid to tell fairy stories since that, for I don't like to +be called a wicked lady, you know." + +"There, now, auntie," said Susy, "don't you s'pose we know they're +only play-stories? Just as if we hadn't a speck of sense!" + +"Well, let me see," said aunt Madge, covering her eyes with her +fingers. "Once upon a time when the moon was full----" + +"Full of what?" said Prudy, who was leaning on the arm of her auntie's +chair, and peeping up into her face, "full of fairies?" + +"When the moon was round, my child," said auntie, stroking the little one's +hair. "But wait. I'll tell a story Prudy can understand--wouldn't you, my +dears? When I was a little girl----" + +[Illustration: AUNT MADGE TELLING A STORY.] + +"That's right," cried the children. "O, tell about that." + +"Was you about as big as me?" said Prudy, "and was your name _little +Madge_?" + +"Yes, they called me little Madge sometimes, and sometimes Maggie. +When I was about as old as our Susy, I happened to go into the +back-room one day, and saw uncle Edward's hatchet lying on the +meat-block. I knew I had no right to touch it, but it came into my +head that I would try to break open the clams. The hatchet, instead of +cracking the shells, came down with full force on my foot! I had on +thick boots, but it cut through my right boot deep into the bone. O, +how I screamed!" + +"I should have thought you would, auntie," cried Grace, fairly turning +pale. "Did it bring the blood?" + +"Yes, indeed! Why, when I went into the kitchen, my footsteps were +tracked with little pools of blood, oozing out of my boot. Sister +Maria screamed out,--'O, look at Maggie! She's cut her foot with that +hatchet!'" + +"'No, no, I haven't,' said I, for I was frightened almost to death, +and afraid of being punished for disobedience. You see father had +forbidden us little ones ever to touch the hatchet." + +"Why, you told a right up and down----fib," said Susy, looking +shocked. + +"A real whopper," said Horace, shaking his head. + +"So I did, children, and before my story is done you shall see what +misery my sin caused me." + +"Did Mr. 'Gustus Allen know about it?" asked little Prudy. + +"I guess not," replied aunt Madge, blushing. "He lived ever so far off +then." + +"O dear," sighed Prudy, "I wish he hadn't gone to the wars. How it +made you cry!" + +"Hush up, please, can't you, Prudy?" said Susy. "Aunt Madge is telling +a story." + +"Well, they sent for the doctor in great haste, and then tried to pull +off my boot; but my foot was so badly swollen, and bleeding so fast, +that it took a great while. I can't tell how long, for I fainted. When +the doctor saw the wound they said he looked very sober." + +"'So, so, little girl,' said he (that was after I came to myself), +'you thought you'd make me a good job while you were about it. There's +no half-way work about you. You are the child that had the tip of a +finger clipped off in the corn-sheller, hey?'" + +"I was always afraid of Dr. Foster, so I only buried my face in my +apron, and cried." + +"'She must have brought the hatchet down with a great deal of force,' +said the doctor. 'See, Mrs. Parlin, how deep it went into the bone.'" + +"'I fell and hit my foot,' I sobbed out. 'I never _touched_ the +hatchet!'" + +"I knew well enough that the doctor didn't believe me." + +"'So, so,' said he. 'Very well, never mind how 'twas done, but keep +your foot still, little one, and we'll talk about the hatchet another +time. Mrs. Parlin, if it goes to bleeding again, be sure to send for +me.'" + +"It was ever so long before I could walk a step. Every time any body +spoke of my hurt, I said, 'Why, I was just coming into the house with +those clams, and my foot slipped, and I fell and hit me on something. +I don't know whether it was a hatchet or a stick of wood; but I never +touched the hatchet!'" + +"There, I shouldn't have thought that of _you_, auntie," said Grace. + +"Poh!" cried Horace, "they must have known you was a-foolin'; of +course they did!" + +"Well, every time the doctor came to see me, he laughed and asked me +how I cut my foot." + +"'Just the same as I did in the first place, you know,' said I. 'I +don't know nothing about it, only I never touched the hatchet!'" + +"'Well,' he would answer, 'you remember the old saying, A lie well +stuck to, is better than the truth wavering.'" + +"I didn't know what that meant, but he laughed so that I knew he was +making sport of me. I knew nobody believed me. The hatchet had been +found red with blood, and mother looked, O, so sad! but I had told +that falsehood so many times that it did seem as if I hadn't any +courage left to tell the truth. It had grown to be very easy to keep +saying, I never _touched_ the hatchet.'" + +"Makes me think of that play, 'My father's lost his hatchet,'" +whispered Susy to Grace. + +"Every one tried to amuse me while I was sick, but there was always a +thorn in my pillow." + +"A thorn?" said Prudy. + +"Not a real thorn, dear. I mean I had told a wrong story, and I +couldn't feel happy." + +Here Susy turned away her head and looked out of the window, though +she saw nothing there but grandpa coming in from the garden with a +watering-pot. + +"Whenever father looked at me, I felt just as if he was thinking, +'Margaret doesn't tell the truth;' and when mother spoke my name +quick, I was afraid she was going to say something about the hatchet." + +"I got well, only I limped a little. Then it was almost time to think +of making presents for the Christmas tree. I didn't like to have +Christmas come while I was feeling so. People are so good that day, I +thought. That is the time when every body loves you, and spends money +for you. I wanted to confess, and feel _clean_; but then I had told +that lie over so many times that I thought I _couldn't_ take it back." + +"I talked it over with myself a great while though, and at last said +I, 'I _will_; I'll do it!' First, I asked God to forgive me and help +me, and when I had got as far as that, the thing was half done, +children." + +"I went into the parlor where your grandfather was--he wasn't deaf +then. I thought I should choke; but I caught hold of one of the +buttons on his coat, and spoke as fast as I could." + +"'O father,' said I, 'I've told more than a hundred thousand lies. I +_did_ take that hatchet! Will you forgive me?'" + +"Did he?" asked Susy. + +"Forgive! I guess he did! My dear child, it was just what he had been +waiting to do! And, O, I can tell you he talked to me in such a way +about the awful sin of lying, that I never, never forgot it, and +shan't, if I live to be a hundred years old." + +"My father had forgiven me: I was sure God had forgiven me too; and +after that, I felt as if I could look people in the face once more, +and I had a splendid time Christmas.--I believe that's about all the +_story_ there is to it, children." + +"Well," said Grace, "I'm much obliged to you, auntie; I think it's +just as nice as a fairy story--don't you, Susy?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Susy, looking confused. "See here, +auntie, I've lost your gold ring!" + +"My ring?" said aunt Madge. "I forgot that I let you take it." + +"Don't you know I asked you for it when you stood by the table making +bread? and it slipped off my finger this afternoon into the water +barrel!" + +"Why, Susy!" + +"And I was a coward, and didn't dare tell you, auntie. I thought maybe +you'd forget I had it, and some time when you asked for it, I was +going to say, 'Hadn't you better take a pair of tongs and see if it +isn't in the water barrel?'" + +"O, Susy!" said aunt Madge. + +"She isn't any worse than me, auntie," said Grace. "Ma asked me how +the mud came on my handkerchief, and I said Prudy wiped my boots with +it. And so she did, auntie, but I told her to; and wasn't I such a +coward for laying it off on little Prudy? I am ashamed--you may +believe I am." + +"I am glad you have told me the whole truth now," replied aunt Madge, +"though it does make me feel sad, too, for it's too much like my +hatchet story. O, do remember from this time, children, and never, +never, _dare_ be _cowards_ again!" + +Just then grandpa Parlin came to the door with a sad face, saying,-- + +"Margaret, please come up stairs, and see if you can soothe poor +little Harry by singing. He is so restless that neither Maria nor I +can do any thing with him." + +This baby, Horace's brother, was sick all the time now, and once in a +while Margaret's sweet voice would charm him to sleep when every thing +else failed. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MORE STORIES + + +"I move we have some more stories," said Horace the next evening, as +they were sitting in the twilight. "It's your turn, Gracie." + +"Well, I don't know but I'd as soon tell a story as not," replied +Grace, pushing back her curls; "I reckon Pincher wants to hear one, he +begins to wag his tail. I can't make up any thing as I go along, but I +can tell a sober, true story." + +"Certain true, black and blue?" asked Prudy, who always _would_ have +something to say, whether she knew what she was talking about or not. + +"Didn't I ever tell you about our school-dog out West, aunt Madge? You +see it was so queer. I don't know where in the world he came from. He +had one of his eyes put out, and was 'most blind out of the other, and +only a stump of a tail, and didn't know how to get his living like +other dogs." + +"O dear, it was so funny he should take it into his head to come to +school, now wasn't it, auntie? He knew Miss All'n just as well as +could be, and used to go with the rest of the scholars to meet her +every morning; and when she patted him on the head, and said 'Good old +doggie,' it did seem like he'd fly out of his wits." + +"Then when she rang the bell he trotted in just as proud, hanging down +his head as meek as could be. He thought she rang the bell for him as +much as any of the rest of the scholars. His seat was right by the +stove on the floor--it _wasn't_ a seat, I mean; and he just lay there +the whole living time, and slept and snored--you see he was so old, +auntie! But then we all loved him, we just loved him so! O dear me, +it's as much as I can do to keep from crying, and I don't know how +_any body_ could help it!" + +"What was I talking about--O, he used to walk round under the seats +just as sly sometimes, and put his nose into the dinner baskets. I +tell you he liked cake, that dog did, and he liked meat and mince pie. +You see he could _smell_, for his nose was as good as ever it was, and +the girls used to cry sometimes when he picked out the nice things." + +"But then we just loved him so, you know, auntie! Why, we thought he +was just as good as any body. He never bit nor growled, that dog +didn't, not a mite. There wasn't one of us but he loved,--'specially +Miss All'n." + +"Now wasn't it too bad Mrs. Snell made such a fuss? She didn't love +that dog one speck,--I don't know as she ever saw him,--and she didn't +care whether he was dead or alive. I just know she didn't." + +"I'll tell you how it was. Sometimes he got locked up all night. He'd +be asleep, you know, by the stove, or else under the seats, and Miss +All'n would forget, and suppose he was gone with the rest of the +scholars." + +"Well, he was a darling old dog, if he _did_ chew up the books! I just +about know he got hungry in the night, or he never would have thought +of it. How did _he_ know it was wrong? he didn't know one letter from +another. He spoiled Jenny Snell's spelling-book, I know, and lots of +readers and things; but what if he did, auntie, now what of it?" + +"I ain't crying any thing about that, I wouldn't have you to think! +But you see Mrs. Snell made a great fuss, and went to her husband and +told him he ought to be shot." + +"That Mr. Snell ought to be shot?" + +"Now, Susy, I shouldn't think you'd feel like laughing or making +fun.--The dog, of _course_; and they sent for the city marshal. You +know Mr. Garvin, Horace?" + +"Yes, the man that scowls so, with the scar on his nose, and a +horse-whip in his hand." + +"Miss All'n cried. She lifted up the lid of her desk, and hid her +head, but we all knew she was crying. You see we had such a time about +it. We thought he was going to carry the dog off to some place, and +take care of him like he was his master, or may be shut him up, or +something that way; but, do you believe, he just _shot_ that dog right +in the yard!" + +"How dreadful!" + +"Yes, auntie, I reckon it was! We all cried like we should kill +ourselves, and put our fingers in our ears; for we heard the man when +he fired the gun,--I mean we heard the gun when the man fired it,--and +_then_ it was of no use; but we stopped our ears, and Miss All'n hid +her face, and cried--and cried--and cried!" + +"O dear me, it did seem like we didn't any of us want to go to school +any more, if we couldn't see our old dog coming to meet us, and rub +his head against our dresses. And it was just as lonesome,--now it was +_so_, auntie." + +"Poor old doggie!" sighed aunt Madge. + +"It wasn't you, was it, Pincher," cried Horace, seizing his dog by +both ears. "I reckon if they tried to shoot you they'd catch it." + +"Now, Susy, it's your turn," said Grace. + +"No, Horace's; he's the oldest." + +"Pshaw!" returned Horace, who had been the very first one to propose +stories, "I'd like to get shut of it. Pshaw! I can't think of +nothin'." + +"But you must, you know, Horace; so it's no use to grumble." + +"O shucks! Has it got to be true?" + +"Don't say 'shucks,' Horace," said Grace, gently. "You can tell a true +story, or make it up as you go along.--Come, hurry." + +"I know what _I'm_ goin' to tell," whispered Prudy to Horace. + +"Well," said the boy, thinking a moment, "I'll tell my story double +quick, and be done with it." + +"You'd ought to see my pa's horse out West, auntie; there ain't a +Yankee horse can hold a candle to him; I'll leave it to Pincher. His +name is Sancho, and my ma sends him to market mornings, early, with +the basket, and puts some money in, and a note to the butcher, and +that horse comes back, sir, just as fast as he can trot, sir, and he +has the meat there all wrapped up, and just has the basket in his +teeth, this way." + +"Why, Horace Clifford!" cried Grace, in surprise; "why, what a story!" + +"Of course it's a story. You wanted me to tell a story, didn't you? I +was just a-blowin'." + +"Well, there, tell something nice, can't you, please?" + +"I've told all the story I'm a-goin' to," said Horace, firmly. "Now +it's Susy's turn." + +"You talk about something else a while," replied Susy, "and let me be +a-thinkin'." + +"I'll tell one," cried Prudy, "let _me_, now." + +"Once there was goin' to be three balls, and Cindrilla didn't have no +mother, and her father didn't have no wife, so he married him one. And +there was goin' to be three great big balls, and Cindrilla asked her +mother if she couldn't go, and her mother said, No, indeed; she hadn't +nothin' to wear. And then they started off, and her grandma came,--O, +I forgot, the woman was wicked, and she made her little girls sit in +the parlor, all dressed up spandy clean, and she made Cindrilla sit in +the coal-hod." + +"And then she told her to get a great punkin, and it turned into a +gold hack, and she went off into the back shed and got the rat-trap, +and it turned into two footmens,--and the king's son--O, no----" + +"And then there was some bugs round there, and they was six horses, +and she got in and rode on to the ball, and her shoes come off, and +then the king married her, and she had the other shoe in her pocket, +and he married her right off, and they're all safe now." + +"All safe?" said aunt Madge, laughing; "what do you mean by that?" + +"O, now she'll have a good father and a good mother, and won't sit in +the coal-hod no more.--Now it's your turn, Susy." + +"O dear suz! I was going to tell a story, a fairy story. It was going +to be a real good one, about 'The Bravest of Lion's Castle,' and I +couldn't think of a thing to say, and now Prudy has drove it all out +of my head." + +"Well, children," said aunt Madge, "suppose we give Susy a little more +time, and excuse her for to-night? It's time for pleasant dreams now, +and kisses all 'round." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +PRUDY'S WHITE TEA + + +"Blessings on the blessed children!" said aunt Madge, one morning soon +after this. "So we little folks are going out to spend the day, are +we?" + +"Yes'm," replied Grace, "all but Horace." + +"Yes," said Prudy, dancing in high glee, "grandma wants _me_ to go, +and I'm goin'. I mean to do every single thing grandma wants me to." + +"I wish you could go with us, aunt Madge," said Grace, almost pouting; +"we don't have half so good times with aunt Louise." + +"No, we don't," cried Prudy; "she wants us to 'take care' all the +time. She don't love little girls when she has 'the nervous.'" + +Almost while they were talking, their aunt Louise came into the room, +looking prettier than ever in her new pink dress. She was a very young +lady, hardly fifteen years old. + +"Come, Prudy," said she, smiling, "please run up stairs and get my +parasol--there's a darling." + +But Prudy was picking a pebble out of her shoe, and did not start at +once. + +"Ah!" said aunt Louise, drawing on her gloves, "I see Prudy isn't +going to mind me." + +"Well, don't you see me getting up out of my chair?" said Prudy. +"There now, don't you see me got clear to the door?" + +"O dear," said poor aunt Louise to her sister, "what shall I do all +this long day with three noisy children? I'm afraid some of them will +get drowned, or run over, or break their necks. You see if something +awful doesn't happen before we get back." + +"O, I hope not," replied sister Madge, laughing. "I think there is +nothing so very wicked about our little nieces." + +"Here is your parasol, auntie," said Prudy, coming back. "I know who I +love best of any body in this house, and it ain't the one that's got +her bonnet on--it's a-r-n-t, aunt, M-i-g, Madge." + +"Well, you ought to love your aunt _Mig_, all of you," said aunt +Louise, laughing, "for I do believe she thinks you children are as +lovely as little white rose-buds.--Come, are you all ready? Then run +along, and I'll follow after." + +"O, I'm so glad I'm alive!" cried little Prudy, hoping on one foot; "I +do hope I shall never die!" + +"I just mean to be careful, and not get a speck of dirt on my clean +apron," whispered Susy to Grace. "Aunt Madge ironed it this morning." + +They had such a pleasant walk through the streets of the beautiful +village, in the "sunshine, calm and sweet!" Grace thought the trees +met overhead just as if they were clasping hands, and playing a game +of "King's Cruise" for every body to "march through." + +When they had almost reached aunt Martha's house, aunt Louise stopped +them, saying,-- + +"Now, tell me if you are going to be good children, so I shan't be +ashamed of you?" + +"Why, yes, auntie," said Grace, looking quite grieved and surprised. + +"O, auntie," said Susy, "did you think we were going to be naughty?" + +"No, you'll mean to be good, I dare say," answered aunt Louise, +speaking more kindly,--"if you don't forget it. And you'll be a nice, +dear little girl, won't you, Prudy?" + +"I don't know," said Prudy, coolly. + +"Don't _know_? Why, do you think I should have taken you visiting if I +hadn't supposed you'd try to be good?" + +"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't," said Prudy, with some dignity, "I +said 'I don't know,' and when I say that, I mean '_yes_.'" + +"Well, I'm sure I hope you'll do the very best you can," sighed aunt +Louise, "and not make any body crazy." + +By this time they had gone up the nice gravel walk, and aunt Martha +had come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embrace +them all at once. + +"Dear little souls," said she, "come right into the house, and let me +take off your things. I've been looking for you these two hours. This +is my little nephew, Lonnie Adams.--Shake hands with the little girls, +my dear." + +Lonnie was a fair-haired, sickly little boy, seven years old. The +children very soon felt at ease with him. + +It was so pleasant in aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the children +took such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they were +all sorry when aunt Louise "got nervous," and thought it was time +they went off somewhere to play. + +"Very well," said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the house +and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie." + +So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, and +at last came to a stand-still in Bridget's chamber over the kitchen, +tired enough to sit down a while--all but Prudy, who "didn't have any +kind of _tiredness_ about her." + +"Look here, Prudy Parlin," said Grace, "you mustn't open that drawer." + +"Who owns it?" said Prudy, putting in both hands. + +"Why, Bridget does, of course." + +"No, she doesn't," said Prudy, "God owns this drawer, and he's willing +I should look into it as long as I'm a mind to." + +"Well, I'll tell aunt Louise, you see if I don't. That's the way +little Paddy girls act that steal things." + +"I ain't a stealer," cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you +once, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. _You're_ a +Paddy!--O, here's _a ink-stand_!" + +"Put it right back," said Susy, "and come away." + +"Let me take it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Prudy's hand, "I'm +going to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback," said +he, jumping up on a stand. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'O yes! O yes! O yes! +Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'" + +"Please give it to me," cried Grace; "it isn't yours." + +"'Fresh ink, red as a lobster!'" + +"This minute!" cried Grace. + +"'As green as a pea! Who'll bid? Going! Going!'" + +"Now, do give it to me, Lonnie," said Susy, climbing into a chair, and +reaching after it; "you ain't fair a bit." + +"'Do you say you bid a _bit_? That's a ninepence, ma'am. It's yours; +going, gone for a ninepence. Knocked off to Miss Parlin.'" + +Somehow, in "knocking it off," out came the stopper, and over went the +ink on Susy's fair white apron. Lonnie was dreadfully frightened. + +"Don't tell that I did it!" cried he. "You know I didn't mean any +harm. Won't you promise not to tell?" + +"Yes, I will," said Susy; but she ought not to have promised any such +thing. + +"O, dear, O dear! What is to be done?" + +Little black streams were trickling down the apron on to the dress. +Grace pulled Susy to the washing-stand, and Prudy thought she meant to +lift her into it, and tried to help. + +"I guess this honey soap will take it out," said Susy; but with all +their washing and rinsing they could not make black white any more +than the poor negro who scoured his face. + +"Stop a minute!" cried Grace. "Soap makes it worse--ma puts on milk." + +"O dear! I wish we had some," said Susy; "how can we get it?" + +"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Grace; "we'll send Prudy down +stairs to Bridget, to ask for some milk to drink." + +"I like milk and water the best," said Prudy, "with sugar in." + +"Well, get that," said Grace, "it's just as good; and come right back +with it, and don't tell about the ink." + +Aunt Martha and Bridget were taking up the dinner when Prudy went down +into the kitchen, calling out,-- + +"O, Bridget, may I have some white tea?" + +"White _tay_!" said Bridget; "and what may that be now?" + +"O, some white tea, in a cup, you know, with sugar. They let me have +it every little once in a while." + +"Milk and water, I suppose," said aunt Martha. "Can't you wait till +dinner, my dear?" + +"But the girls _can't_ wait," replied Prudy; "they want it now." + +"O, it's for the girls, is it?" + +"Yes, but when they've washed the apron I can drink the rest--with +white sugar in." + +"The apron!" said aunt Martha, "_what_ apron?" + +"O, nothing but Susy's. I told grandma I'd be good, and I did be good; +it wasn't _me_ spilled the ink." + +"Ink spilled?" cried aunt Martha, and she stopped beating the turnip. + +"O, I ain't goin' to tell!" cried Prudy, beginning to tremble; "I +didn't, did I? they won't '_low_ me to tell." + +Aunt Louise, passing through the kitchen, caught some of the last +words, and rushed up stairs, two steps at a time. + +"O, Susy Parlin, you naughty, naughty child, what _have_ you been +into? Who spilled that ink?" + +"It got tipped over," answered Susy, in a fright, but not forgetting +her promise. + +"Of course it got tipped over--but not without hands, you careless +girl! Do you get your shaker, and march home as quick as ever you can! +I must go with you, I suppose." + +Lonnie ought to have come forward now, like a little gentleman, and +told the whole story; but he had run away. + +"O, auntie," said Grace, "she wasn't to blame. It----" + +"Don't say a word," said aunt Louise, briskly. "If she was my little +girl I'd have her sent to bed. That dress and apron ought to be +soaking this very minute." + +Bridget listened at the foot of the stairs in a very angry mood, +muttering,-- + +"It's not much like the child's mother she is. A mother can pass it by +when the childers does such capers, and wait till they get more +sinse." + +Poor little Susy had to go home in the noonday sun, hanging down her +head like a guilty child, and crying all the way. Some of the tears +were for her soiled clothes, some for her auntie's sharp words, and +some for the nice dinner she had left. + +"O, aunt Madge," sobbed she, when they had got home, "I kept as far +behind aunt Louise as I could, so nobody would think I was her little +girl. She was ashamed of me, I looked so!" + +"There, there! try not to cry," said aunt Madge, as she took off +Susy's soiled clothes. + +"But I can't stop crying, I feel so bad. If there's any body gets into +a fuss it's always _me_! I'm all the time making some kind of trouble. +Sometimes I wish there wasn't any such girl as me!" + +Tears came into aunt Madge's kind gray eyes, and she made up her mind +that the poor child should be comforted. So she quietly put away the +silk dress she was so anxious to finish, and after dinner took the +fresh, tidy, happy little Susy across the fields to aunt Martha's +again, where the unlucky day was finished very happily after all. + +"The truth is, Louise," said aunt Madge that night, after their +return, "_Lonnie_ spilled that ink, and Susy was not at all to blame. +You scolded her without mercy for being careless, and she bore it all +because she would not break her promise to that cowardly boy." + +"O, how unjust I have been!" said aunt Louise, who did not mean to be +unkind, in spite of her hasty way of speaking. + +"You _have_ been unjust," said aunt Madge. "Only think what a trifling +thing it is for a little child to soil her dress! and what a great +thing to have her keep her word! Susy has a tender heart, and it +grieves her to be unjustly scolded; but she would bear it all rather +than tell a falsehood. For my part I am proud of such a noble, +truthful little niece." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PRUDY TRYING TO HELP + + +Prudy awoke one morning full of mischief. At the second table she +split her johnny-cake, and spread it open, saying it was a +singing-book, and began to sing out of it,-- + + "Little drops of water, + Little _grains_ of sand." + +Grandma heard her from the next room, and came in very much surprised. + +"What shall I do with such a little girl as this?" said she, shaking +her finger at Prudy. + +"I think," answered the child, "you ought to call me to you and say, +'You been a-singin' to the table, Prudy.' Then I'll say 'Yes'm;' and +you'll say, 'Prudy, go right out in the kitchen, and don't let me see +you till you come back pleasant.'" + +Grandma put her head out of the window a moment, for she didn't want +any body to see her smile. + +"This is one of Prudy's days," thought she. "I'm really afraid I shall +have to punish her before it's over." + +Very soon after breakfast the doorbell rang, and a little boy left a +note directed to Miss Grace Clifford. It said,-- + +"Miss Grace Clifford, the Misses Parlin, and Mr. Horace Clifford, are +respectfully invited to a gypsy supper in the Pines." + +The children hardly knew what it meant. + +"What _is_ jispies?" asked Prudy, a little frightened. "Be they up in +the Pines?" + +"It means a picnic, that's all," said aunt Madge, "and a very nice +time you will have." + +"A picnic!" screamed all the voices in chorus. It was almost too good +to believe. Grace clapped her hands and laughed. Susy ran about the +room like a crazy thing. Prudy hopped up and down, and Horace tried to +stand on his head. + +"Now scamper, every one of you," said aunt Madge, "for I must go right +to cooking.--Let's see, you shall have some cunning little sandwiches, +some hard-boiled eggs; and what else can you think of, Louise?" + +"Stop a minute," said aunt Louise, drawing on a long face, "I hope +Susy and Prudy----" + +"Tarts and plum-cake!" cried Susy and Grace. + +"Oranges, dates, and figs!" said Horace. + +"And them little cookies you cut out of a thimble, you know," added +Prudy, anxious to put in a word. + +"Hear me speak," said aunt Louise. "I hope Susy and Prudy don't think +they are going to this picnic, for the truth is, they haven't been +invited." + +"Not invited?" gasped Susy. + +"The note says, 'the Misses Parlin,'" said aunt Louise, gravely. "That +might mean your grandmother, but it doesn't! I take it to mean _the +young ladies_, Madge (or Mig) and Louise, your beautiful aunties, who +are often called 'the Misses Parlin.' Of course it _can't_ mean two +little slips of girls in short dresses!" + +Susy burst into tears, and tried to talk at the same time, but nobody +could understand her. + +"O, O!" moaned Prudy, burying her face in the roller-towel, "if I +can't go I shall just lay down my head and cry!" + +"It's not true, children, not one word; she's only joking," said aunt +Madge, laughing and shaking the egg-beater at her sister. "I'm really +ashamed of your aunt Louise for trying to tease you. What _do_ you +suppose any body wants of old grown-up folks at your nice little +party? There, there, don't laugh _quite_ so loud. Run away, and stay +away, if you want me ever to do any thing." + +In a few moments the children were playing out of doors in high +spirits, and Prudy had told the workmen, in her pretty, lisping way, +"that every one of we children were invited to a _jispy_ supper; had +a ticket come a-purpose, so of course we should _have_ to go!" + +The children were too much excited to do their morning work properly. +Grandma could not tell by the looks of the piazza whether Susy had +swept it or not, and had to go and ask. + +"She's swept it off," said Prudy, speaking for her, "but she didn't +sweep it _way off_!" + +"I should judge not," said grandma; "and here is Prudy, with her bib +on yet, and Grace hasn't made her bed. Do you think such children +ought to go to a party?" + +"O, grandma," cried Prudy, "you know we had a ticket come a-purpose!" + +"I'm ashamed," said Grace, promptly. "Susy, you and I are too big to +act so. Let's go and do up our work right nice, and then see if we +can't help grandma." + +And off went the two little girls, with beaming faces, trying to make +themselves useful. + +"What shall I do?" thought Prudy, for every body was at work,--even +Horace, who was turning the grindstone for the men. + +"I'll dust the parlors, that's what I'll do. It does take aunt Madge +so long." + +So, with the big feather duster, Prudy made a great stir among the +books and ornaments, and at last knocked over a little pitcher and +broke its nose. + +"You little meddlesome thing," cried aunt Louise, as soon as she knew +it, "this is one of your _days_, I should think!" + +"I didn't mean to," cried the child; "I was trying to help." + +"Don't say you didn't mean to; you hadn't any business to touch the +duster. I shall have to snip your fingers, I do believe." + +"Don't," begged the child, "_I'll_ snip my hands, _you_ needn't; +_I'll_ snip my hands and get the naughty out." + +"They ought to be snipped from now till next Christmas," said aunt +Louise, laughing in spite of herself to see the little one set to work +with thumb and finger, trying to do her own punishing. "There, there, +go off, and be a good girl." + +Prudy's bright spirits rose again at these words, and she thought she +would keep on trying to make herself useful. It was aunt Madge she +wanted to help--good aunt Madge, who was so busy cooking for the gypsy +supper. + +[Illustration: PRUDY DUSTING.] + +"I'll feed her bird," thought the child; "he sings as if he was +hungry." + +Now aunt Madge had fed little Daffy before sunrise, and he was as +yellow and happy as a canary can be. But silly little Prudy trotted +off after a piece of sponge cake, climbed into a chair, opened the +cage door, and swung the cake before his eyes. + +Of course Daffy flew out, and one might suppose that was the last of +him; but it so happened that the windows were not up. + +Prudy ran, in great fright, to tell aunt Madge, and when she opened +the door, the cat got in; and such a time as there was, you may +imagine. Kitty rushed for the canary, aunt Louise rushed for the +kitty, and aunt Madge for the bird. At last, Daffy was caught, and +safe in his little home, with only the loss of a few tiny feathers. + +"I'd give that child one sound whipping," said aunt Louise. + +"Let Madge attend to her," replied grandma; "she will do right, for +she knows how to keep her temper." + +Louise said nothing, but she felt the rebuke; and as she left the +room, there was a bright color in her cheeks. + +"Prudy," said aunt Madge, gently, "you didn't mean to open the cage +door, did you?" + +Prudy remembered that she had been scolded before for saying "I didn't +mean to." + +"Yes'm, I did," replied she, in a choked voice, "I meant to do it +a-purpose." + +"I'm really astonished," cried aunt Madge, raising both hands. "Then +it's surely my duty to punish you." + +"You may," sobbed Prudy. "You may shut me up, and not let me have no +dinner, 'cause I ain't hungry. I've been eatin' cake!" + +"I think," said aunt Madge, "it would be a better punishment to keep +you home from the party." + +"O," cried Prudy, eagerly, "wouldn't you rather snip my hands? You can +snip 'em with a piece o' whalebone, you know, and switch me all over +with a switch, and do _every thing_ to me, if you'll only let me go to +the party!" + +"I'm afraid you'll forget, unless you're kept at home, Prudy." + +"O, no, no; I'll promise truly I won't try to help again, never, never +in my world." + +"Were you trying to help when you let out the bird?" + +"Yes'm, I was. He was singin' for somethin' to eat." + +"O, I begin to understand," said aunt Madge, laughing heartily. "So +you didn't mean to be a naughty girl after all. I am very glad of +that, Prudy, for I couldn't tell what to make of you. But you must +never touch the cage again. Little girls that want to _help_, must ask +somebody to tell them what to do. There, now, kiss me, dear, and I'll +forgive you, and we won't say any more about your being naughty, if +you'll only remember next time." + +Prudy laughed, and twinkled off the tears. She was what aunt Madge +called a "bird-child," and was never unhappy but a little while at a +time. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE GYPSY SUPPER + + +After a great, great while, it was afternoon, and the children went up +to the Pines, carrying a small market basket half full of nice things. + +I don't know which felt most at home in those woods, the birds or the +children. It wasn't at all like having a party in a parlor, where +there are chairs and rugs in the way; and where you can't run and jump +without being afraid of hurting something. No, there wasn't any danger +of scratching the varnish off the trees, nor any danger of soiling the +soft carpet of the earth. + +And if there hadn't been a party, it was enough to make any body happy +only to breathe the sweet air, and look away down at the white +village, and away off at the blue hills. + +Dr. Gray's daughter Ruth, a girl of fourteen, was to have the care of +Prudy; and at first she followed the child about like her shadow. + +"You dear little pet," said she, "don't walk so fast. There, now, my +sweet dovey, let me take your hand." + +Prudy looked down at her copper-toed shoes with something like a pout, +and slowly gave her hand to the young girl. + +"Now, you're a little pink of a dear," said Ruth. "Let's see," added +she, feeling anxious to say something, for she thought Prudy would +want to be amused, "do you love your aunt Madge any? _I_ think she's +very good and nice." + +"Yes'm," said Prudy, "I've kissed her so much that I love her a good +deal." + +"Well, I declare," laughed Ruth, "that's a new way of learning to love +any body! I guess people call you a funny little monkey, don't they?" + +"No'm, they don't," replied Prudy, drawing away a little, "they think +I'm as cunning as I can be." + +"O, my! I know a little girl that thinks pretty well of herself. Ah, +here comes Dedy Roberts; does my little love know Dedy?" + +"Yes'm, I went to see her once; she lives in a dreadful _ragged_ +house!" + +"Well, you two little lammies can sit right down here and pick +flowers, and if you find a strawberry I'll give you a cent." + +"As if we was babies," thought the little girls, for they were wise +enough to know that strawberries were gone long ago. + +"I don't like her," said Prudy to Dedy, when Ruth had turned away; +"she calls me names all the whole time. I guess she don't know my name +is Prudy." + +"I wouldn't let her," said Dedy. "What did she call you?" + +"O, monkeys, and lammies, and pinkies, and things. Don't you s'pose +she's 'most an _April fool_?" + +After watching Prudy to the child's vexation for about two hours, Ruth +forgot all about her, and it so happened that the little thing strayed +off with Horace and his friend Gilbert, whom he called "Grasshopper," +to a little clearing in the wood. + +It is a sad fact that "Grasshopper" had a bunch of matches in his +pocket, and the boys meant to build a fire. Horace gathered the dry +sticks and crossed them, so all Grasshopper had to do was to strike a +match, and the fire was soon crackling briskly. + +"How it pops!" said Prudy, "just like corn." + +"I reckon this is _popple_ wood," said Horace, "and they call it so +because it pops in the fire." + +Prudy did not doubt it. She never doubted any thing Horace said. She +stood looking on, with dumb surprise, as he took out of the inside +pocket of his raglan three small fishes. + +"Now," said he, "if we can cook these for our supper, won't we go +a-flyin'?" + +"Be they minnies?" asked Prudy. "O, I know; it's mack fishes!" + +"She means _mackerel_, you see," said Horace, with a wise look at +Grasshopper. "No, Prudy, these are chubbs, nice chubbs, too; I caught +'em myself." + +How to cook a fish, Horace had no idea, but he was not a boy to give +up at trifles. + +"If I put 'em into the fire they'll burn up," said he; "but if I hold +'em over the fire they'll cook;--now won't they?" + +"Your hand will cook, too, I guess," said lazy Grasshopper, sitting +down and looking on. + +Horace said no more, but went quietly to work and whittled some long +splinters, on which he stuck the fish and set them to roasting. True, +they got badly scorched and dreadfully smoked, but that was not all +that happened. A spark flying out caught Prudy's gingham dress, and +set it in flames in a second. + +Whether the boys would have known what to do, I can't say; but just +then Sam Walker, a good-natured colored man, came up and put out the +flames before Prudy fairly knew there were any. Then he brought water +from a spring and drowned the bonfire, and gave the boys "a piece of +his mind." + +All the while poor Prudy was running off into the thickest part of the +wood, crying bitterly. Sam ran after her, and caught her up, as if she +had been a stray lamb; and though she struggled hard, he carried her +to the picnic ground, where the large girls were just spreading the +table for supper. + +"You'd better look out for these here young ones," said Sam. "This one +would have been roasted sure, if I hadn't a-happened along in the nick +of time." + +Ruth Gray dropped the paper of candy she was untying, and turned very +pale. She had been too busy playing games to remember that she had the +care of any body. + +"O, you little ducky darling," cried she, seizing Prudy in her arms, +"don't you cry, and you shall have a pocket full of candy. You didn't +get burnt a mite, did you, honey?" + +"No'm, I ain't cryin'," sobbed Prudy. "I ain't crying any thing about +that;" and every word seemed to be shaken out, as if there was a +little earthquake at her heart--"_there--is--black folks!_ O, he is +just as--_black_!" + +"Is that all," said Grace, stroking Prudy's hair. "Didn't she ever see +any negroes--any nice black negro men before, Susy?" + +"I thought she had; why, we have 'em in the streets at Portland, lots +and lots of 'em." + +After much soothing, and a good deal of candy, Prudy was comforted, +and the supper went off famously. The children were all polite and +well-behaved, "even the boys," as Ruth said; and though they all had +keen appetites, nobody was greedy. + +By and by, when it would not do to stay any longer, they all started +for home, happy and tired. + +Ruth held Prudy's little hand in a firm grasp, and wished she had held +it so all the afternoon; "for," as she said, to herself, "she's a very +_slippery_ child." + +This had been a trying day for Prudy, and when aunt Madge put her to +bed, her sweet blue eyes wouldn't stay shut. + +"Where do they grow, auntie?" said she, "them black folks. Be _they_ +the jispies?" + +"O, they grow any where," replied aunt Madge, laughing; "just like any +body. They are not gypsies, but negroes." + +"I should think they'd wash their faces." + +"O, they do, but our Heavenly Father made them black." + +"Did he?" cried Prudy, raising her head from the pillow. "And did he +know how they was goin' to look when he made 'em? That man that +catched me up, why, how he must feel!" + +"He was very kind," said aunt Madge, trembling as she thought of the +child's danger. "O Prudy, did you thank him?" + +"No, I didn't," replied Prudy. "I didn't know as he could hear any +thing. O, mayn't I go up to the jispy Pines to-morrow and thank him?" + +"We'll see; but now it's time you went to sleep." + +"Well, I will," said Prudy, "I'll go in a minute; but, auntie, he's +good, ain't he? He ain't black _all_ through?" + +"He's quite a good man," answered aunt Madge, trying not to smile, +"and has had a great deal of trouble. I can't stop to tell you, and +you wouldn't understand; but I dare say he has cried ever so much, +Prudy, and felt worse than you can think, all because he is black; and +some people don't like black men." + +"I should think they'd be ashamed," cried the child. "Why, _I_ love +him, 'cause he can't wash it off! Mayn't I put him in my prayer?" + +Then Prudy had to get out of bed and kneel down and say her prayer +over again. It followed the Lord's Prayer, and was in her own words:-- + +"O God, please bless every body. Bless all the big children, and the +little children, and the little mites o' babies. And bless all the men +and ladies that live in the whole o' the houses." + +And now she added,-- + +"And won't you please to bless that black man that catched me up, and +bless all the black folks, forever, amen." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE ANGEL-BABY + + +The beautiful summer was passing away very fast. Only a few days more +till autumn. A little longer, and the cousins must separate; so, for +the time that was left, they clung all the more closely together. + +I have called it a beautiful summer; so it was, but there is one +sorrowful thing I have not said much about. There was one trouble +which always made the children feel sad when they stopped to think of +it. + +While they were playing in the hay-field, or taking supper "up in the +trees," now and then they would hear the tired cry of the darling sick +baby. + +Then Grace would clasp her hands together in her quick way, and say,-- + +"O dear, dear, I wish the doctor would get Harry well." + +"Poh!" said Horace, "the doctors they have East ain't no 'count, are +they, though, Gracie?" + +"Of course they don't know so much as Dr. De Bruler," replied Grace, +very decidedly. + +"I'll tell you how they make doctors," spoke up little Prudy; "they +take a man and put him in a bear's buffalo coat, and that makes a +doctor." + +"And a gig," said Horace, "and some sharp things, and lots of little +bottles." + +"What children!" said Grace, looking down upon them with a lofty +smile. "Why, Prudy, what _have_ you got in your pocket?" + +"O, I don't know," said Prudy, throwing her hands behind her. +"_Goodness_ won't hurt me, will it, Susy?" + +"I guess _you_ ain't good enough to hurt." + +"Well, grandma says not to eat green apples," said the child, "but +she'd be willing I could chew 'em and get the _good_ all out--don't +you s'pose she would?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Susy; "you must ask." + +"Well, I never teased for any. Horace gave 'em to me, and I shan't +swallow 'em." + +"O, what a little snipe," cried Grace, laughing, "your pocket is +stuffed so full it's going to burst open, and you'll be sick again, +now you see!" + +"Sick?" repeated Prudy, looking frightened, for she did not forget her +severe illness; "then I'll throw 'em away. I don't love such sour +things anyhow. I was only _hung-buggin_'." + +And Prudy went down the wooden stairs which led from the trees, and +walked slowly towards the house, dropping the green apples one by one +into the grass. + +At the kitchen door she met her aunt Madge, who was in tears. + +"O auntie," said she, "I'm going to wash my hands spandy clean, and +then are you willing there is any thing I can have to eat?" + +"Cookies, if you like, my dear." + +"O auntie," cried Prudy, eager with a new thought, "won't you tell me +where them raisins is--the ones you didn't put in the pudding? Tell +me, O, do, do! If you will, I won't touch 'em, true as the world." + +"Then why do you want to know where they are?" said aunt Madge, a +faint smile flitting across her face and then dying out again. + +"O, 'cause," said Prudy, "then I can tell Susy, and _she_ can get +'em!" + +"You can each of you have a handful," said aunt Madge, reaching down +the box. "You may have some, for I know you wouldn't take them without +leave, and Susy wouldn't either, you funny child!" + +"Now," said she, putting the raisins in Prudy's apron, "I want you to +go out of doors and keep very still." + +"Why do you cry so, my dearest auntie in the world?" said Prudy, +climbing into a chair, and throwing her arms around her auntie's neck, +while the raisins dropped to the floor; "is Mr. 'Gustus Allen dead?" + +"No," said aunt Madge, hugging little Prudy as if she was good for the +heartache, "the baby is a _great deal worse_, darling! Tell the +children I will send them some dinner up in the trees, and don't let +Horace come into the house. You know he means to keep still, but his +boots make so much noise." + +Prudy gathered up the raisins, and went out quietly, her happy little +face looking very sober. But the "bird-child" could not be sad long at +a time, and she had hardly climbed the steps into the trees, and given +away the clusters of raisins, before the sick baby was almost +forgotten. + +"There," said Horace, suddenly, "I must go right into the house and +see Harry. I haven't seen him to-day." + +"O, no, no!" cried Prudy, holding him back, and speaking very fast, +"he's a great deal _wusser_, and auntie said your boots was so big +she'd send the dinner out here; and then she cried like every thing." + +"O," said Grace, "I'm so afraid the baby won't get well! Aunt Madge +didn't say any thing about _dying_--about Harry's _dying_, did she, +Prudy?" + +"No," replied Prudy, stopping a moment to think; "she said he was +wusser--a great deal wusser, darling. And then she talked about +Horace's boots, and that's all." + +"The darling little baby! He used to love me before he got so sick; +and all the way coming East I held him ever so much, you know, +Horace." + +"Well, he liked me, too," said Horace, looking very sober, "and I've +played with him the most, and let him spoil lots of my things." + +"So you have," said Grace. "I heard ma say the other day you'd always +been good to little brother. O Susy, you ought to have seen how Harry +used to jump when he'd hear Horace open the door; he always expected a +frolic!" + +"Didn't we have _times_!" cried Horace, dropping his eyes, which were +full of tears. + +"O Susy," said Grace, "do you suppose any one that's sick all summer +ever gets well?" + +"I don't know," sighed Susy; "mother says if God is willing they'll +get well, and if he isn't they'll die. God knows what is best." + +"Yes," chimed in little Prudy, "God knows a great deal more'n I do!" + +And so the children chatted and played quietly all day long, sometimes +breaking off in the midst of a game to talk about the baby. It seemed +like a very strange day. The sky looked so calm and peaceful that you +could almost fancy it was keeping still to listen to something a great +way off. The quiet trees might have been dreaming of heaven, Susy +thought. Horace begged her now to tell that fairy story about "The +Bravest of Lion's Castle;" but Susy said it made her feel wicked to +think of fairy stories _that_ day, though she couldn't tell why. + +When the children went into the house at supper-time it was very +still. Nobody was to be seen but aunt Madge, who gave them some bowls +of bread and milk, and said the family had taken tea. + +A kind of awe crept over Grace as she looked at the tearful face of +her auntie, and she dared not ask about the baby. + +After they had finished their supper, aunt Madge said, "You may all +follow me into the nursery; I have something to tell you.--Our dear +little pale baby, who has been sick day and night all this long +summer, will never feel sick or cry any more. God has taken him to +heaven to be a little angel." + +All but Prudy knew that she spoke of death. Grace flung herself on the +floor and wept aloud. Horace rushed up stairs into the back chamber, +without saying a word to any body; and Susy buried her face in the +sofa-pillows, whispering, "O God, don't let it be so; it isn't true, +is it?" + +But Prudy only opened her blue eyes in wonder. When she saw the pure +little form of the baby lying on the bed, in a soft crimson dress, she +smiled and said,-- + +"O, he looks as if he was asleep, and he is asleep!" + +"But see, he doesn't breathe," whispered Susy. + +"No," said Prudy, "he don't breathe because he don't want to. He was +sick, and it made him too tired to _breathe_ so much." + +Why every body should weep was more than Prudy could tell; but she +thought it must be right to do as the rest did, and by bedtime she was +sobbing as if her heart would break. She afterwards said to Susy,-- + +"I tried as hard as I could to cry, and when I got to crying I cried +as tight as I could spring!" + +But when aunt Madge wanted to put Prudy to bed she was unwilling to +go. "O, no," said she, "I want to wait and see the baby go up!" + +"See what?" said aunt Madge. + +"See God take the baby up to heaven," sobbed the child. + +"But he is in heaven _now_," replied aunt Madge. + +"O, no, he hasn't gone a single step. I saw him on the bed. They +haven't put his wings on yet!" + +Aunt Madge was puzzled, and hardly knew what to say, for it is not +easy to make such very little children know the difference between the +body, which goes back to dust, and the spirit, which goes to God who +gave it. + +She talked a long while, but I doubt if Prudy understood one word, for +when the casket which held the form of little Harry was buried in the +garden, she cried because the earth was heaped over it. + +"What makes 'em do it?" she asked, "he can't get to heaven through all +that dirt!" + +But by and by, when days passed, and there was no longer a baby in +the house, Prudy began to think of him as one of the angels. And one +morning she told a beautiful dream which she thought she had had, +though she sometimes called her _thoughts_ dreams. + +"O," said she, "I dreamed about my angel! He had stars all round his +head, and he _flowed_ in the air like a bird. There was ever so many +little angels with him, and some of 'em sang. They didn't sing +_sorry_; they was singing, 'The Little Boy that died.' And, aunt 'Ria, +I guess you wouldn't cry if you could see how happy they were!" + +"No, no," sobbed poor aunt 'Ria, holding Prudy close in her arms, +which she said felt "_so_ empty" now, "it can't be right to cry, can +it, Prudy, when I _know_ my baby is so happy in heaven?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GOING HOME + + +It was now autumn. The trees couldn't keep green any longer, for their +time had come; so they just made the best of it, like sad faces +laughing through tears, and glowed and flushed in a perfect blaze of +glory, making believe they were having splendid times all by +themselves, and didn't care for what was coming. + +The Parlin children had stayed a great deal longer than their parents +at first meant they should stay, and now they must really go back to +Portland. + +The little cousins were sorry to part, for you know they had learned +to love one another dearly. Grace and Susy clung together till the +last moment. + +"O Susy," sobbed Grace, "don't you forget these good times! Remember +to write, no matter how it looks. I wish I hadn't got to go 'way off +out West. I never did have such times in any place as we've had here +at grandma's." + +"Nor I either," said Susy, looking sorrowfully at the barn, the seat +in the trees, and the clover patch. "Remember, you're coming back in +just two years. Won't it be splendid?--O dear, but two years is 'most +forever!" added Susy, suddenly breaking down. + +"Good by, Prudy," said Horace, climbing into the stage-coach, quite +out of breath. He had run all the way to the post office just for the +sake of seeing her again. + +"Good by, Prudy. You're the cunningest little spud! If you lived out +West I'd just go a-flyin'." + +Nobody knew whether Horace cried or not, for nobody saw him till +dinner time, but then he looked very sober indeed. He and Grasshopper +had been building a fort, he said; and after he had told so much, he +seemed not to care about talking. He felt captain of a little company, +and such a brave soldier that he would not even say he felt sorry +Prudy was gone. + +Grace talked a great deal about Susy, and asked her mamma if she might +not invite her to go out West some time. + +Mrs. Clifford said she should be very glad, indeed, to have a visit +from both the children, and who knew but it might happen so? for Mr. +Parlin, Susy's father, often took journeys out West on business. + +This idea struck Grace very pleasantly, and she had a strong hope of +the visit in a minute. In two minutes she had a firm belief in it; and +the last we see of Grace and Horace in this book, they are sitting on +the piazza, eagerly talking about the next winter, when they shall +both go to the cars to meet uncle Edward and the children. + +"They'll be there my birthday--what'll you bet?" said Horace. + +"I shall wear my tippet when we go to the depot, and have a new hood," +said Grace. "I don't know what my dress will be, though." + +"I'll make a bow-arrow, and a gun, and a steamboat for Prudy." + +"And I'll give Susy my large doll, and make a blue dress for it, with +flowing sleeves. She shall put all her things into my cabinet." + +"What'll we have to eat? Pecans, and 'simmons, and raisins, and figs." + +"O, we shall have plenty to eat, Horace, we always do. We'll give 'em +canned peaches with cream. Susy likes cream as well as a cat." + +"I'd like to see Prudy eat a 'simmon--a green one, I mean," cried +Horace, laughing aloud. "Seems like I can see her mouth puckering up +now." + +Susy and Prudy, all this while, were riding home in the cars, under +the care of the conductor. + +"O," sighed Susy, "I wish we were going backwards, just the other way. +Grandma is going to let Grace boil some candy to-night, and put +oilnuts in it." + +"I guess they'll want _me_ to help 'em pull it," said Prudy. + +"There, now, we've got to Brunswick," murmured Susy. "I don't like to +get so far away from the folks at grandma's. Don't it seem real +lonesome?" + +"No, indeed," replied Prudy. "I'm glad we're goin' home to see mother +and the rest of 'em. What do you s'pose the baby'll say?" + +But their speech was cut short by some large pieces of sponge cake, +which the smiling conductor brought to them wrapped in a newspaper. + +Susy and Prudy reached home safely, and there is nothing more to be +said about them at present. + +I think I will copy the letter which Prudy wrote to her dear friend, +Mr. Allen, or which she got aunt Madge to write the next time she went +to Portland. + +CHRISTMAS DAY. + +DEAR MR. 'GUSTUS ALLEN: + +When you went off to the wars aunt Madge cried some, for I saw her +wiping her eyes. You asked me if I loved you for the candy, but I +didn't; I loved you for the nuts and oranges. + +I think you was real good to write me a letter. I had just as lief +kiss you as not if you _wasn't_ my father; and aunt Madge says she'll +answer it, 'cause you couldn't read my writing; _but_ I hain't got any +pig! He was a pinky winky little thing, but grandpa kept a keepin' him +eatin', and he got so big once when I was gone that they had to kill +him. + +But he didn't go to heaven, and I'm glad, for I don't ever want to see +_him_ again. That was last summer, when I was a _little_ girl. I don't +like pigs _now_. + +Of course I'm going on five, for if I wasn't most five my grandpa Read +wouldn't be dead most two years. + +I've got my presents, but they ain't took off the tree yet. Mother +gave me a tea-set. O, I wish you could see it, 'cause you wouldn't +break a single thing. And I had a doll, and lots of candy and books, +and a new dress, and a scarf, and some shiny shoes. + +I'm glad you wrote me that darling letter. I can't think of any thing +to think of. The skeeters bit me when I was to grandma's. I hate +_live_ skeeters. They might be flies, and I wouldn't care then. They +used to get into my skin just as easy, and sting me all up. + +Won't you write me another letter? Please to. + +Susy fastened her tooth to the door-latch once. It got so loose it +shook in her mouth, and it hurt her so I had to cry. But _my_ teeth +are drove in real hard. I mean it hurt her when 'twas pulled, that's +what I mean. + +I saw a cow the other day in the road, that wasn't hitched. Susy said, +"Go long goff, sir," but he didn't, and then a man shoo-brauded him, +and he went. + +We had a dear little toady in the garden, and when I talked to him he +winked. He had a nest in the flower-bed last summer. + +I like to stay at grandma's, so I can jump off of something. Mother +won't let us hunt for any eggs to Portland--'cause we haven't any +hens. + +Horace was a captain to his men. He made me a sled. I had a new dress +on the Christmas-tree, and a sugar basket. + +I've got a bad cold, but Susy hasn't. My head is all snuffed up. + +When are you goin' to come home? + +I haven't seen Grace and Horace for so long! They went home after the +baby died. God has got the baby up in heaven, but the _tired part_ of +him is in the garden. + +My father is 'most crazy to see me. He is, truly; and when I say +_truly_, I _can't_ lie. He _said_ he wanted to see me so he was 'most +crazy, and he's comin' to-night. + +I s'pose he'll bring me something, for I've been good. When I act +cross, it's 'cause I don't feel well. + +Aunt Madge says to me I've wrote enough, and I'm tired. She's wrote +the letter, but I made it up. + +I wish you a Merry Christmas! She asked me if I forgot to wish it, but +I didn't. + +Good by. + +From + +PRUDY PARLIN. + + * * * * * + + +SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS + + +DOTTY DIMPLE AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S + + "Sophie May's excellent pen has perhaps never written + anything more pleasing to children, especially little girls, + than 'Dotty Dimple.' If the little reader follows Dotty + through these dozen chapters--from her visit to her + grandmother to the swing under the trees--he or she will + say: 'It has been a treat to read about Dotty Dimple, she's + so cunning.'"--_Herald of Gospel Liberty._ + + +DOTTY DIMPLE OUT WEST + + + "Dotty's trip was jolly. In the cars, where she saw so many + people that she thought there'd be nobody left in any of the + houses, she offers to hold somebody's baby, and when it + begins to cry she stuffs pop-corn into its mouth, nearly + choking it to death. Afterwards, in pulling a man's hair, + she is horrified at seeing his wig come off, and gasps + out,'Oh, dear, dear, dear, I didn't know your hair was so + tender!' Altogether, she is the cunningest chick that ever + lived."--_Oxford Press._ + + +DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME + + + "This little book is as full of spice as any of its + predecessors, and well sustains the author's reputation as + the very cleverest of all writers of this species of + children's books. Were there any doubt on this point, the + matter might be easily tested by inquiry in half the + households in the city, where the book is being revelled + over."--_Boston Home Journal._ + + +DOTTY DIMPLE AT SCHOOL + + + "Miss Dotty is a peremptory little body, with a great deal + of human nature in her, who wins our hearts by her comic + speeches and funny ways. She complains of being _bewitched_ + by people, and the wind 'blows her out,' and she thinks if + her comrade dies in the snow-storm she will be 'dreadfully + 'shamed of it,' and has rather a lively time with all her + trials in going to school."--_New York Citizen._ + + +DOTTY DIMPLE AT PLAY + + + "'Charming Dotty Dimple,' as she is so universally styled, + has become decidedly a favorite with young and old, who are + alike pleased with her funny sayings and doings. 'Dotty at + Play' will be found very attractive, and the children, + especially the girls, will be delighted with her + adventures."--_Boston Express._ + + +DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY + + + "This is the final volume of the 'Dotty Dimple' Series. It + relates how little Flyaway provisioned herself with cookies + and spectacles and got lost on a little hill while seeking + to mount to heaven, and what a precious alarm there was + until she was found, and the subsequent joy at her recovery, + with lots of quaint speeches and funny incidents."--_North + American._ + + "A Little Red Riding-Hoodish story, sprightly and takingly + told."--_American Farmer._ + + +LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY + + + "This is a book for the little ones of the nursery or + play-room. It introduces all the old favorites of the Prudy + and Dotty books, with new characters and funny incidents. It + is a charming book, wholesome and sweet in every respect, + and cannot fail to interest children under twelve years of + age."--_Christian Register._ + + +PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE + + + "How she kept it, why she kept it, and what a good time she + had playing cook, and washerwoman, and ironer, is told as + only Sophie May can tell stories. All the funny sayings and + doings of the queerest and cunningest little woman ever + tucked away in the covers of a book will please little folks + and grown people alike."--_Press._ + + +AUNT MADGE'S STORY + + + "Tells of a little mite of a girl, who gets into every + conceivable kind of scrape and out again with lightning + rapidity through the whole pretty little book. How she + nearly drowns her bosom friend, and afterwards saves her by + a very remarkable display of little-girl courage. How she + gets left by a train of cars, and loses her kitten and finds + it again, and is presented with a baby sister 'come down + from heaven,' with lots of smart and funny + sayings."--_Boston Traveller._ + + +LITTLE GRANDMOTHER + + + "Grandmother Parlen when a little girl is the subject. Of + course that was ever so long ago, when there were no lucifer + matches, and steel and tinder were used to light fires; when + soda and saleratus had never been heard of, but people made + their pearl ash by soaking burnt crackers in water; when the + dressmaker and the tailor and the shoemaker went from house + to house twice a year to make the dresses and coats of the + family."--_Transcript._ + + +LITTLE GRANDFATHER + + + "The story of Grandfather Parlen's little-boy life, of the + days of knee breeches and cocked hats, full of odd + incidents, queer and quaint sayings, and the customs of 'ye + olden time.' These stories of Sophie May's are so charmingly + written that older folks may well amuse themselves by + reading them. The same warm sympathy with childhood, the + earnest naturalness, the novel charm of the preceding + volumes will be found in this."--_Christian Messenger._ + + +MISS THISTLEDOWN + + + "One of the queerest of the Prudy family. Read the chapter + heads and you will see just how much fun there must be in + it: 'Fly's Heart,' 'Taking a Nap,' 'Going to the Fair,' 'The + Dimple Dot,' 'The Hole in the Home,' 'The Little Bachelor,' + 'Fly's Bluebeard,' 'Playing Mamma,' 'Butter Spots,' 'Polly's + Secret,' 'The Snow Man,' 'The Owl and the Humming-Bird,' + 'Talks of Hunting Deer,' and 'The Parlen Patchwork.'" + + +FLAXIE FRIZZLE + + + "Flaxie Frizzle is the successor of Dotty Dimple, Little + Prudy, Flyaway, and the other charming child creations of + that inimitable writer for children, Sophie May. There never + was a healthy, fun-loving child born into this world that, + at one stage or another of its growth, wouldn't be + entertained with Sophie May's books. For that matter, it is + not safe for older folks to look into them, unless they + intend to read them through. 'Flaxie Frizzle' will be found + as bright and pleasant reading as the others."--_Boston + Journal._ + + +FLAXIE'S DOCTOR PAPA + + + "Sophie May understands children. Her books are not books + about them merely. She seems to know precisely how they + feel, and she sets them before us, living and breathing in + her pages. Flaxie Frizzle is a darling, and her sisters, + brothers, and cousins are just the sort of little folks with + whom careful mothers would like their boys and girls to + associate. The story is a bright, breezy, wholesome + narrative, and it is full of mirth and gayety, while its + moral teaching is excellent."--_Sunday-School Times._ + + +FLAXIE'S LITTLE PITCHERS + + + "Little Flaxie will secure a warm place in the hearts of all + at once. Here is her little picture: Her name was Mary Gray, + but they called her Flaxie Frizzle, because she had light + curly hair that frizzled; and she had a curly nose,--that + is, her nose curled up at the end a wee bit, just enough to + make it look cunning. Her cheeks were rosy red, 'and she was + so fat that when Mr. Snow, the postmaster, saw her, he said, + "How d'ye do, Mother Bunch?"'"--_Boston Home Journal._ + + +FLAXIE'S TWIN COUSINS + + + "Another of those sweet, natural child-stories in which the + heroine does and says just such things as actual, live, + flesh children do, is the one before us. And, what is still + better, each incident points a moral. The illustrations are + a great addition to the delight of the youthful reader. It + is just such beautiful books as this which bring to our + minds, in severe contrast, the youth's literature of our + early days--the good little boy who died young and the bad + little boy who went fishing on Sunday and died in prison, + etc., to the end of the threadbare, improbable + chapter."--_Rural New Yorker._ + + +FLAXIE'S KITTYLEEN + + + "'Kittyleen'--one of the 'Flaxie Frizzle' series--is a + genuinely helpful as well as delightfully entertaining + story. The nine-year-old Flaxie is worried, beloved, and + disciplined by a bewitching three-year-old tormenter, whose + accomplished mother allows her to prey upon the neighbors. + 'Everybody felt the care of Mrs. Garland's children. There + were six of them, and their mother was always painting + china. She did it beautifully, with graceful vines trailing + over it, and golden butterflies ready to alight on sprays of + lovely flowers. Sometimes the neighbors thought it would be + a fine thing if she would keep her little ones at home + rather more; but if she had done that she could not have + painted china.'"--_Chicago Tribune._ + + +FLAXIE GROWING UP + + + "No more charming stories for the little ones were ever + written than those comprised in the three series which have + for several years past been from time to time added to + juvenile literature by Sophie May. They have received the + unqualified praise of many of the most practical scholars of + New England for their charming simplicity and purity of + sentiment. The delightful story shows the gradual + improvement of dear little Flaxie's character under the + various disciplines of child-life and the sweet influence of + a good and happy home. The illustrations are charming + pictures."--_Home Journal._ + + +PENN SHIRLEY'S BOOKS + + +PENN SHIRLEY'S STORIES + +FOR THE LITTLE ONES + + + "Miss Penn Shirley is a very graceful interpreter of + child-life. She thoroughly understands how to reach out to + the tender chord of the little one's feelings, and to + interest her in the noble life of her young companions. Her + stories are full of bright lessons, but they do not take on + the character of moralizing sermons. Her keen observation + and ready sympathy teach her how to deal with the little + ones in helping them to understand the lessons of life. Her + stories are simple and unaffected."--_Boston Herald._ + + +THE LITTLE MISS WEEZY SERIES + +Three volumes Illustrated Boxed, each 75 cents + + +LITTLE MISS WEEZY + + + "One of the freshest and most delightful, because the most + natural, of the stories of the year for children is 'Little + Miss Weezy,' by Penn Shirley. It relates the oddities, the + mischief, the adventures, and the misadventures of a tiny + two-year-old maiden, full of life and spirit, and capable of + the most unexpected freaks and pranks. The book is full of + humor, and is written with a delicate sympathy with the + feelings of children which will make it pleasing to children + and parents alike. Really good child literature is not + over-plenty, despite the multitude of books that come daily + from the press; and it is pleasing to welcome a new author + whose first volume, like this one of Penn Shirley, adds + promise of future good work to actual present + merit."--_Boston Courier._ + + +LITTLE MISS WEEZY'S BROTHER + + + "This is a good story for young children, bringing in the + same characters as 'Little Miss Weezy' of last year, and + continuing the history of a very natural and wide-awake + family of children. The doings and the various 'scrapes' of + Kirke, the brother, form a prominent feature of the book, + and are such as we may see any day in the school or home + life of a well-cared-for and good-intentioned little boy. + There are several quite pleasing full-page + illustrations."--_The Dial._ + + "We should like to see the person who thinks it 'easy enough + to write for children' attempt a book like the 'Miss Weezy' + stories. Excepting Sophie May's childish classics, we don't + know of anything published as bright as the sayings and + doings of the little Louise and her friends. Their pranks + and capers are no more like Dotty Dimple's than those of one + bright child are like another's, but they are just as 'cute' + as those of the little folks that play in your yard or + around your neighbor's doorsteps."--_Journal of Education._ + + +LITTLE MISS WEEZY'S SISTER + + + "It is one of the best of the series, and will please every + child who reads it. It is brought out just at the holiday + time, and is brimful of good things. Every character in it + is true to nature, and the doings of a bright lot of + children, in which Miss Mary Rowe figures conspicuously, + will entertain grown folks as well as little ones." + + "It is a thoroughly clever and delightful story of + child-life, gracefully told, and charming in its blending of + humor and pathos. The children in the book are real + children, and the pretty plot through which they move is + fully in harmony with the characters. The young ones will + find it a storehouse of pleasant things pleasantly related, + and a book that will appeal at once to their sentiments and + sympathies."--_Boston Gazette._ + + "A book that will hold the place of honor on the nursery + bookshelf until it falls to pieces from much handling is + 'Little Miss Weezy's Sister,' a simple, yet absorbing story + of children who are interesting because they are so real. It + is doing scant justice to say for the author, Penn Shirley, + that the annals of child-life have seldom been traced with + more loving care."--_Boston Times._ + + * * * * * + + +Sophie May's Complete Works + + +LITTLE FOLKS' BOOKS +Illustrated. Per Volume, 75 cents + + +_LITTLE PRUDY'S CHILDREN_ +Wee Lucy +Wee Lucy's Secret +Jimmy Boy +Jimmy, Lucy, and All +Kyzie Dunlee +Lucy in Fairyland + +_LITTLE PRUDY STORIES_ +Little Prudy +Little Prudy's Sister Susy +Little Prudy's Captain Horace +Little Prudy's Cousin Grace +Little Prudy's Story Book +Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple + +_DOTTY DIMPLE SERIES_ +Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmother's +Dotty Dimple Out West +Dotty Dimple at School +Dotty Dimple at Home +Dotty Dimple at Play +Dotty Dimple's Flyaway + +_LITTLE PRUDY FLYAWAY SERIES_ +Little Folks Astray +Prudy Keeping House +Aunt Madge's Story +Little Grandmother +Little Grandfather +Miss Thistledown + +_FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES_ +Flaxie Frizzle +Doctor Papa +Little Pitchers +Twin Cousins +Flaxie's Kittyleen +Flaxie Growing Up + +_THE QUINNEBASSET SERIES_ +Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume, $1.25 +The Doctor's Daughter +Quinnebasset Girls +In Old Quinnebasset +Our Helen +The Asbury Twins +Janet; A Poor Heiress + +HER FRIEND'S LOVER. Cloth, $1.00 +PAULINE WYMAN. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 +JOY BELLS. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 + +ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY +Illustrated Catalogue sent by mail postpaid + +Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., Boston + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Prudy, by Sophie May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE PRUDY *** + +***** This file should be named 24711.txt or 24711.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/1/24711/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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