[Ill.u.s.tration: "I"M GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING." Page 34.]
"Don"t," laughed Prudy, "I"ve just brushed my hair."
"Once there was a girl, Prudy, lived in this state; and mother thinks she was just like me. But she wasn"t, truly. She was homely; and her hair was black; and her mother was dead. The woman spatted her with a stick where she lived. And she didn"t love the baby any at all, "cause he had nicer things, you know; and I guess white sugar and verserves. So she stuck a _spine_ into him--only think! In his crib! So he never walked ever again! And his father and mother were gone away, and told her to give him baked apples and milk--with bread in!"
"Why, that can"t be true, Dotty Parlin!"
"Yes, _indeed_! Certain true, black and blue. Guess my mother knows!"
"What!" said Prudy, "just for baked apples and milk?"
"Yes. Her name was Harriet."
"What did you say she did it with, Dotty?"
"Mamma said a _spine_. They took her to the court-house; but they didn"t hang her, "cause she--I"ve forgot what--but they didn"t. They made her marry a black man--that"s all I know!"
"Well, there, how queer!" said Prudy, drawing a long breath. "If I was Harriet I"d rather have been hung. Was he all black?"
"Yes, solid black. But I s"pose she didn"t want to choke to death any more"n you do."
"Dotty," said Prudy, with a meaning in her tone, "what do you suppose made mamma tell you that story?"
"I don"t know."
Dotty looked deeply dejected.
"Little sister," continued Prudy, taking advantage of the child"s softened mood, "don"t you wish you didn"t let yourself be so angry?"
"Yes, I do, so there!" was the quick and earnest reply.
Prudy was astonished. It was the first time this proud sister had ever acknowledged herself wrong.
"Then, Dotty, what if you try to be good, and see how "twill seem?"
"Won"t you tell anybody, Prudy?"
"No, never."
"Well, I _will_ be good! I can swallow it down if I want to."
Observe what faith the child had in herself!
Prudy clapped her hands.
"There, don"t you talk any more," added Miss Dimple, with a sudden sense of shame, and a desire to conceal her emotions. "Let"s make pictures on the slate."
Prudy was ready for anything; her heart was very light. She was too wise to remind Dotty of her new resolution; but she kept a journal, and that evening there was a precious item to make in it.
I think, by the way, that Prudy"s habit of keeping a journal was an excellent thing. She learned by the means to express her thoughts with some degree of clearness, and it was also an improvement to her handwriting.
"_July 2d._ My sister Dotty thinks, certain, positive, she _will_ be a good girl; and this is the day she begins. But I shall not tell anybody, for I promised, "No, never."
"My mother told her about a girl that almost killed a dear little boy because they asked her to give him baked apples and milk. I heard my father say to my mother that he thought the story pierced Dotty like _a two-leg-ged_ sword. So I don"t think she will ever get angry again. Finis."
Prudy always added the word "Finis" at the close of her remarks each day, considering it a very good ending.
CHAPTER III.
FIRE.
For a few days after this, Dotty Dimple had little time to think of her new resolution. Nothing occurred to call forth her anger, but a great deal to fill her with astonishment and awe.
The three little girls, for the first time in their lives, were learning a lesson in the uncertainty of human events. They had never dreamed that anything about their delightful home could ever change. If they thought of it at all, they supposed their dear father and mother, and their serene grandmamma Read, would always live, and be exactly as they were now; that their home would continue beautiful and bright, and there would be "good times" in it as long as the world stands.
It is true they heard at church that it is not safe for us to set our affections too strongly upon things below, because they may fail us at any moment, and there is nothing sure but heaven. Still, like most children, they listened to such words carelessly, as to something vague and far away. It was only when they were left, in one short day, without a roof over their heads, that Susy sobbed out,--
"O, Prudy, this world is nothing but one big bubble!"
And Prudy replied, sadly,--
"Seems more like shavings!"
You all know how an innocent-looking fire-cracker set Portland ablaze, but you can have little idea of the terror which that woeful Fourth of July night brought to our three little girls.
When I think of it now, I fancy I see them speeding up and down that departed staircase, trying to help the men carry water to pour on the roof. The earnestness of their faces is very striking as Susy brandishes a pail, Dotty a gla.s.s pitcher, and Prudy a watering-pot, in the delusive hope that they are making themselves useful.
After this, when the children have had a troubled sleep, and wake in the morning to find the house actually on fire, the horror is something always to be remembered. Flames are already bursting out of some of the lower windows. It is no longer of any use to pour water. There is no time to be lost. Mrs. Parlin hurries the children down stairs, and out of the house, under their grandmother"s protection.
They thread their dismal way up town, through smoke and flame, Susy shedding tears enough to put out a common coal fire. It is, indeed, a bitter thing to turn their backs upon that dear old home, and know for a certainty that they will never see it again! In the place where it stands there will soon be a black ruin!
"The fire is lapping and licking," says Prudy, "like a cat eating cream."
"I hope it has a good time eating our house up!" cried Dotty, in wrath.
Susy groans. Dotty thinks they are going to be beggars in rags and jags.
Prudy, always ready with her trap to catch a sunbeam, says that after all there are other little girls in the world worse off than they are.
Susy thinks not.
"O, children, you are young and can"t realize it; but this is awful!"
Dotty tries to be more wretched than ever, to satisfy her eldest sister"s ideas of justice. She sends out from her throat a sound of agony, which resembles a howl.
Prudy"s chief consolation is in remembering, as she says, that "G.o.d knows we are afire." Prudy is always sure G.o.d will not let anything happen that is _too_ dreadful. She has observed that her mother is calm; and whatever mamma says and does always approves itself to this second daughter.