[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 herbetter in a book by herself with pictures. 

To you who never saw her before, we will introduce her now. It is easyto feel acquainted with Prudy; for she is, as you will find, a verytalkative little lady. 

There is no end of things which might be told of Susy, Grace, andHorace; and if you wish to hear more about them, you have only to waita 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 thoughtsand 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 alwayssaying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble. 

Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three yearsolder, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summerthey went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother. 

At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, andPrudy was between three and four. Susy could sew quite well for agirl of her age, and had a stint every day. Prudy always thought itvery 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 calicopieces, just to keep her little fingers out of mischief. 

But when the squares were basted together, she broke needles, prickedher fingers, and made a great fuss; sometimes crying, and wishingthere 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 littledaughter must not come to me. " So Prudy sat down near the door, andbegan to sew with all her might; but soon her little baby sister camealong, looking so cunning, that Prudy dropped her needle, and went tohugging her. 

"O, little sister, " cried she, "I wouldn't have a horse come and eatyou up for any thing in the world!"

After this, of course, her mother had to get her another needle, andthen thread it for her. She went to sewing again till she pricked herfinger, 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 busyfrying doughnuts that she could not stop to talk much; and the nextthing she saw of Prudy she was at the farther end of the room, whileher 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'vebroke a crack in the pitcher!"

"What will mamma do with you? You haven't finished your stint--whatmade you get out of your chair?"

"O, I thought grandma might want me to get her _speckles_. I thought Iwould go and find Zip too. See, mamma, he's so tickled to see me heshakes 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 ZipCoon, but it isn't a _very_ double name, --is it, mother?"

When Mrs. Parlin had finished her doughnuts, she said, "Pussy, youcan't keep still two minutes. Now, if you want to sew this patchworkfor grandma's quilt, I'll tell you what I shall do. There's an emptyhogshead in the back kitchen, and I'll lift you into that, and youcan'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; andas she spoke, her voice startled her--it was so loud and hollow. "I'lltalk 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 likeyour house, ma'am, only I should think you'd want some windows. Is'pose you know who I am, Mrs. Hogshead? My name is Prudy. My motherdidn't put me in here because I was a naughty girl, for I haven't donenothing--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 hearme singing any more, --it _mortifies_ my mother very much. "

So Prudy made her fingers fly, and soon said, "Now, mamma, I've got itdone, 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 gotbaby in my arms. "

Mr. Parlin peeped into the hogshead. "How in this world did you everget in here, child?" said he. "I think I'll have to take you out witha pair of tongs. "

Prudy laughed. 

"Give me your hands, " said papa. "Up she comes! Now, come sit on myknee, " added he, when they had gone into the parlor, "and tell me howyou climbed into that hogshead. "

"Mother dropped me in, and I'm going to stay there till I make abedquilt, only I'm coming out to eat, you know. "

Mr. Parlin laughed; but just then the dinner bell rang, and when theywent to the table, Prudy was soon so busy with her roasted chicken andcustard 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 grandmaRead has to wait for somebody's little fingers before she gets abedquilt, poor grandma will sleep very cold indeed. "

The calico pieces went into the rag-bag, and that was the last ofPrudy's patchwork. 

One day the children wanted to go and play in the "new house, " whichwas not quite done. Mrs. Parlin was almost afraid little Prudy mightget hurt, for there were a great many loose boards and tools lyingabout, and the carpenters, who were at work on the house, had all goneaway to see some soldiers. But at last she said they might go if Susywould be very careful of her little sister. 

I dare say Susy meant to watch Prudy with great care, but after awhile she got to thinking of something else. The little one wanted toplay "catch, " but Susy saw a great deal more sport in building blockhouses. 

"Now I know ever so much more than you do, " said Susy. "I used to washdishes and scour knives when I was four years old, and that was thetime I learned you to walk, Prudy; so you ought to play with me, andbe goody. "

"Then I will; but them blocks is too big, Susy. If I had _a axe_ I'dchop 'em: I'll go get _a axe_. " Little Prudy trotted off, and Susynever looked up from her play, and did not notice that she was gone along while. 

By and by Mrs. Parlin thought she would go and see what the childrenwere 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 ofher 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 thehighest 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 toshut up her eyes and die, and be all deaded up--she meant to have herhands and face clean, and go up to heaven on a ladder. "

"O, " thought the poor mother, "she is surely on the way to heaven, forshe can never get down alive. My darling, my darling!"

Poor Susy's first thought was to call out to Prudy, but her mothergave her one warning glance, and that was enough: Susy neither spokenor stirred. 

Mrs. Parlin stood looking up at her--stood as white and still as ifshe had been frozen! Her trembling lips moved a little, but it was inprayer; she knew that only God could save the precious one. 

While she was begging Him to tell her what to do, a sudden thoughtflashed across her mind. She dared not speak, lest the sound of hervoice should startle the child; but she had a bunch of keys in herpocket, and she jingled the keys, holding them up as high aspossible, 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 thantears, 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. Iwon't go up to heaven till _bime-by_!"

Then she walked along the beam, and turned about to come down theladders. Mrs. Parlin held her breath, and shut her eyes. She dared notlook up, for she knew that if Prudy should take one false step, shemust fall and be dashed in pieces!

But Prudy was not wise enough to fear any thing. O, no. She was onlythinking very eagerly about crimson jellies and fruit cake. She creptdown the ladders without a thought of danger--no more afraid than afly 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 wastaking care of her, --yes, at length the last round was reached--shehad got down--she was safe!

"Thank God!" cried Mrs. Parlin, as she held little Prudy close to herheart; 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 abouther 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 andSusy. "

CHAPTER III

PRUDY'S KNITTING-WORK

Susy felt as if she had been sadly to blame, and for a long time wasvery watchful of her little sister. 

"Your name is Susy, " said the child; "and your middle name is _SisterSusy_, and you take the care o' me!"

"No, I don't, " thought Susy to herself. "If I had taken any care ofyou at all, you wouldn't have climbed those ladders. "

When Prudy was four years old, she teased to go to school, and hermother decided to let her go until she grew tired of it. 

"O, dear!" sighed Susy, the first day she took her; "she'll talk outloud, 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 inmy world!"

When they got home that night, Mrs. Parlin asked if Prudy hadwhispered in school. 

"No, ma'am. I never done such a thing--I guess. Did I, Susy? How muchI _didn't_ talk to you, don't you know?"

"O, she was _pretty_ good, mother, " said Susy; "but she cried once soI had to go out with her. "

"Now, Susy Parlin, you _told_ me to cry! She _did_, mamma. She said ifI'd cry she'd give me a piece of her doughnut. "

Susy blushed; and her mother looked at her, and said, "I would liketo see you alone a little while, Susy. "

Then Mrs. Parlin had a talk with Susy in the parlor, and told her howwrong it was to deceive, and how she must take the care of her littlesister, 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 hadgrandma'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, sheshut up her eyes and put out her tongue right there in school, and ofcourse 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 herknitting-work--that may keep her out of mischief. "

Now it happened that grandma Read had taken a great deal of pains toteach Prudy to knit;--but such a piece of work as the child made ofit!

The first time she carried the thing which she supposed was going tobe a stocking, the A B C scholars looked very much surprised, for noneof 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 fastthat she dropped a stitch every other moment. 

"There, now, you are dropping stitches like every thing, " said LottiePalmer, 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 herwork 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 twoneedles gone!"

"O, I left 'em to school, I s'pose, " said Prudy. "I'm sure I nevernoticed '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, andI put it where it b'longs. "

"Where's that?" asked grandma, laughing. 

"Well, I don't know, " answered Prudy, trying to think; "but I guessit's _somewhere_. "

Mrs. Parlin began to think it was a foolish plan to let Prudy take herknitting-work. I was going to mention something she did the last dayshe carried it. She got tired of knitting, tired of twisting herpretty curls round her finger, and tired of looking at pictures. 

"Let's guess riddles, " she whispered to Nancy Glover, who sat on thebench beside her. "I can make up riddles just as easy! There'ssomething 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 toget my spelling lesson. "

Then Nancy turned her head a little to one side, and went to studyingas hard as she could, for it was almost time for her class to becalled. 

All at once Prudy happened to look at Nancy's ear, and thought, "Whatfunny little holes folks have in their ears! I s'pose they go clearthrough. I guess I'll put my knitting-needle right through Nannie'sear while she's a-studyin'. The needle will look so funny stickin' outat the other end!"

So Prudy was very sly about it, and said not a word, but began to pushin the needle with all her might. 

O, such sharp screams as Nannie gave! The teacher was frightened; butwhen she found that Nannie was not so _very_ badly hurt after all, shefelt 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. Inever knew 'twas a-goin' to hurt her. "

Miss Parker smiled, and said, "Well, you needn't bring thatknitting-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 satwith 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 herclass. She was three or four years older than Prudy, and ought to haveknown better than to be angry with such a little child. She shouldhave forgotten all about it: that would have been the best way. Butinstead of that, she kept thinking, --

"O, how that knitting-needle did hurt! Prudy ought to be ashamed! I'llpay 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'tcare about her learning to read yet awhile. "

Mrs. Parlin smiled in a droll way. "I should be very sorry myself tohave Prudy learn to read, " replied she; "but she won't keep still longenough: 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 verybright, "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 youspell Susy's name?"

"Spell Susy? Why, I can do it just as easy!" replied Prudy, her eyesshining very bright indeed. "C-ez, Sooz, C-i-ezzy, Susy. There! Can'tI spell?"

"Why, I should think you could, " said papa, laughing. "I can't beginto spell the way you do. Now can you spell _Cat_?"

"Cat? _Cat?_" repeated Prudy, looking puzzled. "Well, I guess I'veforgot 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 eightletters when she began to go to school, and now she knows but four. "

"Glad of it, " returned Mr. Parlin. "Are you ready for school, littleone?" 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 andSusy trudged along to school, and they met Nancy Glover, who wascarrying 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-needleinto 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 _topurpose_ 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; soshe said nothing. They went into the school-house and took theirseats, Nancy keeping the corner of her apron rolled up all the while. 

By and by, when Miss Parker was hearing the third class, Nancywhispered, --

"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 hereyelids together very hard. 

Then what should Nancy do, but take out of her apron _a wee bit of atoad_, and drop it in Prudy's mouth! I can't see how she dared do sucha thing; but she did it. She had found the toad in the street, andpicked it up to frighten little Prudy. 

The moment the toad was dropped on the child's tongue of course itbegan to hop. Prudy hopped too. She seized her tongue with one handand the toad with the other, screaming at the top of her voice. 

The scholars were all frightened to hear such a scream, and to seePrudy 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 tillit hopped right up!"

"A _toad_ here in the house!" cried Miss Parker. 

"No, ma'am, " said Prudy, trembling and sobbing. "It wasn't in thehouse, --it was in my mouth, --right here on my tongue. "

Prudy showed Miss Parker her tongue. Miss Parker laughed, thinking hera very funny child. 

"I've heard, before now, of little folks having frogs in theirthroats, " said she. "Is that what you mean?"

"I guess so, " sobbed Prudy. "And it was alive--just as alive as couldbe! O, O!--Nancy, she told me to shut up my eyes, you know, and Ididn't see the toad till it hopped right up in my mouth, --and _then_ Ididn't see it! O, O!"

"Nancy, come here, " said Miss Parker, sternly. "What have you beendoing 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 intomy 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 punishyou. "

"Now, Prudy, " added Miss Parker, "what do you think I ought to do toNancy for being so naughty?"

"I don't know, " answered Prudy, crying still. "I don't s'pose mymother 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 hertears. 

"I think I must, my child. "

"Well, I hope you won't hurt her, " said dear little Prudy. "Please todon't. "

But Miss Parker struck Nancy with a piece of whalebone, and hurt her agood deal. It was the only way to make Nancy remember not to do such acruel trick again. 

When Prudy saw how much Nancy was hurt, it was more than her tenderheart could bear. She ran up to Miss Parker, and caught hold of theskirt of her dress, hiding her head in it. 

"O, Miss Parker!" said she, "I've got to cry. Nanny won't do so nomore. 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 placeshe was very tired of it, in the second place it was vacation, and inthe 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 stoutswing in the big oil-nut tree! Such a beautiful garden, with asummer-house in it! Such a nice cosy seat in the trees! So many "cubbyholes" all about to hide in!

But this summer I speak of was pleasanter than ever; for the Westerncousins, Grace and Horace Clifford, had come from Indiana to visittheir friends in Maine. The Parlin children had not seen them for twoyears; 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 whenhe could stop. 

"O dear suz, " said she, one morning, "I'm so glad there happened to bea world, and God made me!"

"What, you here, Prudy?" said grandma Parlin. "What made you get up soearly?"

"O, the flies waked me, I s'pose. I was dreaming about my _pignig_. Ithought I had it on top o' the trees. "

"Ah, it's the day for Grace's party, sure enough, " said hergrandmother, sighing a little, and stirring faster at her drop-cake. 

"You mean _my_ party, " said Prudy, dancing around the table. "Theparty b'longs to me. You didn't know that, _did_ you?"

"You'd better go and talk to your aunt Madge, " said grandma, "I'mbusy. "

"O, " said Prudy, "I guess you ain't glad I got up. I tried to keepasleep, 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 littlegirls all the time. "

But she did it. 

After a while Grace, and Horace, and Susy came down stairs, and thenthere was a great time. As soon as breakfast was over, kind auntMadge 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, oronly 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 tohave a lot of noisy boys. "

"Poh! we don't want boys, " echoed Prudy. "They are pickin' fusses allthe time. "

Cousin Horace stood by aunt Madge's chair, looking quite forlorn, buttoo proud to say a word. 

"See here, Horace, " said Grace, very grandly, "we think you'd bettergo a-strawberrying to-day. "

"I reckon I won't if I don't want to, " said Horace, working the flagout of his cap. He knew the girls thought he was almost always in theway. 

"I want to tell you something, Horace, " said aunt Madge, stroking hishair. "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, thoughhe wouldn't take the girls for any thing. "

"There, girls, " cried Horace, with beaming face. "Did Mr. Allen trulysay so, auntie? Of course he wouldn't have girls go. If we caught afish, 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 afterthem. 

"But where is Abby Grant?" said aunt Madge. "Don't you want her?"

Grace and Susy looked at each other without speaking. Prudy looked atthem. 

"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 hasany 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 andaunt Louise worked with all their might, cooking nice things, and thechildren were too happy to keep still. Susy's mother had gone back toPortland. 

When the first little girl arrived, Grace and Susy hadn't theslightest idea what to do with her, and aunt Madge had to go in andset 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, 'causeyou 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 fewminutes all the little girls had come, and the whole party went intothe front yard to play. Aunt Madge made believe she was a little girl, and played "Ring Round Rosy, " "Catch, " and "Button, " as hard as anybody. When they had played till they were all out of breath, auntLouise sent them to the summer-house in the garden to rest, while sheand 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, likered coral, and the white currants, like round pearls! Then theflowers, fresh from the garden!

The children sat on the double steps of the long piazza to eat theirsupper. They had plenty of room, and it was nice fun to peep round thegreat white pillars at their neighbors' plates, and whisper to oneanother, "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'ssweet little voice filled all the pauses with some funny little chorusof her own. 

When the party broke up, the children were quite tired out, and gladto go to bed. 

"Well, " said Grace, as they went slowly upstairs, "didn't my picnic gooff nicely?"

"_Your_ pignig?" said Prudy; "why it b'longs to _me_! I had itmyself. "

"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 Prudycould 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, Iwon'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 youagain--till--you--say--'twas--my--pig----"

But in the middle of a word Prudy made a mistake and dropped off tosleep. 

CHAPTER V

PRUDY IN THE PINES

"No, my dears, " said grandma. "I couldn't consent to let you gostrawberrying 'up by the Pines' as you call it. It is Mr. Judkins'smowing-field. "

"But, grandma, " said Grace, "Johnny Gordon went there yesterday, andthere wasn't any fuss about it. "

"Then you may be sure Mr. Judkins did not know it, " said grandma. "Ifhe should catch any children in his field, he would be sure to givethem a severe scolding. "

"Besides, " chimed in aunt Madge, "Prudy isn't fit to walk so far--sheisn't very well. "

"No, she is quite out of sorts, " said grandma. "So if you must gosomewhere, you may take your little baskets and go out in the meadowon the other side of the cornfield. Only take good care of Prudy; nowremember. "

"Grandma always says that over, " said Susy, as the three children wereon their way to the meadow; "and aunt Madge always says it too--'takecare 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 whenHorace went down to the 'crick' fishing, you and I might go off byourselves, and have a nice time for once. But here is 'little Pitcher'right at our heels. We never can have any peace. Little Miss Somebodythinks 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 thatway to me. "

They gathered strawberries for a while in silence, Prudy picking moreleaves than berries, and sometimes, in her haste to keep up with theothers, pulling up grass by the roots. 

"Well, I don't think much of this, " said Grace; "there ain't more thanten 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 mindfor the worst. "I suppose we've got to stay here, though. We could goup in the Pines now if it wasn't for Prudy, and they are real thick upthere. "

"Yes, " said Grace, "but grandma knew we couldn't without she would besure to follow. Do you think Mr. Judkins would be likely to scold, Susy?"

"No, indeed, " said Susy, eating a dry strawberry. "He keeps sheep, andgoes round talking to himself. I ain't a bit afraid of him. What couldwe little girls do to his grass, I'd like to know? It isn't as if wewere great, rude boys, is it, Grace?"

"No, " said Grace, thoughtfully. "Now if we could only get rid ofPrudy----"

Little Prudy pushed back her "shaker, " and looked up, showing a pairof flushed cheeks damp with tears. 

"I don't think you are very polite to me, " said the child. "Bime-by Ishall go to heaven, and I shan't never come back any more, and then Iguess 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'mgoin' to do, " said Prudy, "and when I say my prayers, I shall justtell God how naughty you be!"

Prudy turned short about, and the girls went toward the Pines, feelingfar from happy, for a "still, small voice" told them they were doingwrong. 

They had got about half way up the hill, when, looking back, there wasPrudy, 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. Iwon't be no trouble, Susy. "

So the girls made the best of it, and helped little "Mother Bunch" upthe long, steep hill. Prudy had one hearty cry before the long walkwas over. "Her nose fell on a rock, " she said; but as it was onlygrazed a little, she soon forgot about it. 

"This is something worth while, now, " said Grace, after they had atlast reached the field, and were seated in the tall grass. "Thestrawberries are as thick as spatter. "

"Yes, " said Susy, "and grandma and aunt Madge will be so glad to seeour baskets full they'll certainly be glad we didn't stay in themeadow. Big as your thumb, ain't they?"

[Illustration: FLYING FROM THE FIELD. ]

You see the girls were trying to stifle that still, small voice, andthey tried to believe they were having a good time. 

Grace and Susy had got their baskets nearly half full, and Prudy hadcovered the bottom of hers with leaves, stems, and a few berries, whena 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 thegirls, "I never would have thought that these little children--ah, would have come into my field--ah, and trampled down my grass! I shallhate--ah, to cut off their little ears--ah, and see the blood runningdown!"

I suppose it was not two minutes before the children had left thatfield, pulling the screaming Prudy through the bars as roughly as ifshe had been a sack of wool instead of flesh and blood, --their hairflying in the wind, and their poor little hearts pounding againsttheir sides like trip-hammers. If the field had been on fire theycould not have run faster, dragging helpless Prudy, who screamed allthe way at the very top of her voice. 

Susy and Prudy had thrown away their pretty little baskets. Grace hadpushed hers up her arm, and her sleeve was soaking in the red juice ofthe bruised strawberries, while little streams of juice were tricklingdown her nice, buff-colored dress, ruining it entirely. 

"You hadn't ought to have took me up there, " sobbed Prudy, as soon asshe could find her voice; and these were the first words spoken. 

"O, hush, hush right up!" cried Susy, in terror. "He's after us, totake us to jail. "

The family were really frightened when the panting children rushedinto 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 hisjackknife. "

"And he snips off your ears and nose, " broke in Prudy, "and bloodcomes a-runnin' down, and he kills you dead, and then he puts you injail, and then he chased us--don't you hear him comin'?"

"What does all this mean?" cried grandma and aunt Madge in onebreath. "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'thave gone and took me up there, and 'twas 'cause they were naughty. "

"What shall I do with children that disobey me in this manner?" saidgrandma, much displeased. 

"Worst of all, " said aunt Madge, pulling off Prudy's shoes, "thischild 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 Prudyhiding her head under the pillow, and screaming with fright. 

"O, there I was!" cried the child, tossing up her arms, "all tumbledout 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, andhere 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 shebegan, 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 adrink--dreffully!"

Aunt Madge brought some water, but her fingers were not steady, andthe glass trembled against the child's hot lips. She watched tillPrudy dozed again, and then stole softly down stairs to get a "nightcandle, " and to tell her mother she was really afraid Prudy was goingto be sick. 

But Mrs. Parlin said aunt Madge mustn't be nervous; that children werevery apt to be "out of their heads" in the night, and she was prettysure Prudy would wake up bright in the morning. 

Aunt Madge tried to hope so, but she hardly slept a wink, for Prudytossed and twisted all night. Sometimes she thought she was pickingberries on the tufted coverlet. Sometimes she cried out that "thecrazy man was coming with a axe. "

When grandma saw her purple cheeks by daylight she did not laugh ataunt Madge. She brushed the soft curls away from the little one's hottemples, and said softly, --

"How do you feel, Prudy, darling?"

A wild light burned in the child's eyes. "It isn't Prudy!" screamedshe, "I ain't her! Go 'way! You're goin' to snip off my nose! O, goright off!"

You may be sure that Grace and Susy were far from happy that day. Whenthey noticed that their grandmother grew more and more uneasy, andwhen they saw the doctor's gig at the gate, their hearts were veryheavy. 

"O Grace, " said Susy, sobbing, "Prudy thought we didn't love her! Wekept saying she was always round. How much do you suppose she issick?"

"O dear, I don't know, " said Grace, wringing her hands; "but I'll tellyou 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--youcan't, because you haven't got any little sister. Only think of myscolding 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 themoment their grandmother's step was heard in the passage they flew toher. 

Mrs. Parlin set her vial down on the hall table. "I don't like to tellyou, " said she, shaking her head sadly; "the doctor calls her a verysick child, and says he is afraid of brain fever. "

"Do they die with that?" cried Susy, seizing hold of her grandmother'sdress. "O, stop a minute; is she going to die?"

"We hope not, " said Mrs. Parlin, "but she is so sick that we shallsend a despatch for your mother. I want you to try and keep the housestill, girls, and coax Horace to stay out of doors. "

"Keep the house still? I guess we will!" said Grace. "O grandma, willyou 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 Ihope that before this you have asked pardon of your dear Father inheaven. 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 actedso bad! O, can you forgive me, and not take Prudy? I never will do soagain! 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 littlelighter because she had told her kind Father just how she felt, and ifit 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. Motherwon't leave her little Prudy again. "

"I ain't Prudy!" screamed the child; "Prudy's gone to heaven. God cameand helped her up the steps. "

One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her littledaughter's beautiful curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer. 

"Ah, sister Madge, " said she, "you can't guess how it makes my heartache to have my child take me for a stranger. "

"Perhaps she may know you to-morrow, " said aunt Madge; though in herheart she had very little hope of the child. 

But Prudy did not know any body "to-morrow, " nor the next day, nor thenext. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! Theterrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks lookedas if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildlyher eyes shone like flames. 

A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sitby the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk about dear littlePrudy. 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 tocinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if abreath 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 waswhen she began to get well. 

Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, thoughnever so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lipslike a note of music. 

Her father and mother, and the whole family, were full of joy, andGrace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over thepretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should bewell enough to enjoy them. 

CHAPTER VII

PRUDY'S PRESENT

"Well, dear, " said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out ofbreath, "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' byand 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 tostay in this country, grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!"

"Of all things, " said grandma, "I don't believe there's a little girlany where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, andoranges, 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, smilingthrough her tears. 

"Bless your little heart, " cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek. "Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shallI bring you to look at?"

"O, now I know what it is I want, " replied Prudy, lifting her headfrom the pillow, "I want to eat up the _old lady_!"

Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out ofcandy. 

"O, that's made to be looked at, " said grandma. "Let's see--where doyou 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 mymother's Portland--I used to eat things. "

Poor grandma herself could hardly keep from crying to see Prudy sohungry. 

"Here is some nice arrow-root, " said she. "You may have it all if youlike. You are a darling little girl not to tease for things you oughtnot to have. "

"I believe, " she went on, looking at patient little Prudy, as shedrained the bowl, "I should like to give such a good child a prettypresent. "

"O, dear me suz!" screamed Prudy, "I'm glad I didn't go to heavenyet. --Will it be a little wee doll that can live in a thimble?--madeout of sugar?"

"Well, " said grandma, "I don't know, You may be thinking all day whatyou would like best. Not to _eat_, dear, but to _keep_, remember. NowI must go down stairs--but here come Grace and Susy, so you won't belonesome. "

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 triedto amuse her. 

They were dressed in a very funny rig. Susy looked a great deal wiserthan an owl, out of a pair of spectacles without any eyes, and aflaring cap. Grace had stuck some false hair on her head, and a bonnetthat 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 lookfrightened, "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 mustsuffer! 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 onthe shelf, to keep 'em for her. "

Here the two visitors turned away their heads to laugh. "What do yous'pose my present will be?" said Prudy, forgetting their play. "Lookhere, Susy, I could take that vase now, and smash it right down on thefloor, and break it, and grandma wouldn't scold--'cause I'm sick, youknow. "

"But you wouldn't do it, " said Grace. "O, here come Mr. Allen and auntMadge. Now, Mrs. Prudy, you're going to have a ride. "

Mr. Allen laughed to see aunt Madge bundle Prudy so much, and said thechild would be so heavy that he could not carry her in his arms; but Ithink he found her only too light after all. 

Prudy almost forgot how hungry she was when she was seated in herlittle carriage and wheeled about the pleasant yard. She had an ideathat 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. Butshe did not say much, and when aunt Madge asked her what made her soquiet, she said she was "a-thinkin'. " And the most of her smallthoughts were about her present. 

"Now, " said Mr. Allen, "I'm going to hold you up so you can peep overinto the pig-pen. There, do you see that little mite of a whitepiggy?"

"O, dear, dear, dear!" cried Prudy, clapping her hands, "what acunning little piggy-wiggy! He looks nice enough to eat right up! Inever did see such a darling! O, he winks his eyes--see him! He ain'tdead, 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 youhad 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 redcheeks, 'cept his nose and little toes. Mayn't he have one of myoranges? 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 sopleased. 

"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 hercheeks at once, "I didn't know but it b'longed to grandma. "

"Well, you little pet, " said aunt Madge, laughing, "what do you carewho 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 getno 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 saysI may think what I want for a present, he'd be willing I shouldhave--she should give me that--_piggy_?"

"O, what a Prudy!" said aunt Madge, laughing till she cried. "Isn'tthere something nicer you would like for a present? You'd betterthink again. "

"O, no, no, " said Prudy, trembling with eagerness. "If grandma shouldgive me a house full of dolls and candy all rolled up, and everysingle present in the world, I'd rather have that piggy. "

"Well, well, " said Mr. Allen, "I guess the folks that wouldn't givetheir 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, andthat was enough. 

Grandpa was very kind, but there was one thing he would not consentto--he would not let the pig come into the house. But as he said hewould be sure to take good care of it, and give it sweet milk todrink, Prudy did not mind so much. 

When she grew stronger she fed it herself, and the pretty creatureknew her, and was glad to see her, Prudy thought. Now she had a greatmany presents that summer, but none that pleased her half so well asthe little pet pig. 

CHAPTER VIII

PRUDY FISHING

One morning, after Prudy was quite well, aunt Madge told her she mightgo into the garden and get some currants. While she was picking withall her might, and breathing very fast, she saw Horace close by, onthe 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, andlooking ashamed. "The teacher don't keep no order, and I won't go tosuch a school, so there!"

"They don't want _me_ to go, " said Prudy, "'cause I should know toomuch. I can say all my letters now, right down straight, 'thoutlooking on, either. "

"O, ho!" cried Horace, trailing his long pole, "you can't say 'emskipping about, and I shouldn't care, if I was you. But you ought toknow 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 littledipper, 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 getout, and that's why they bite. Of course when fishes stay in the watermuch 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-polefor you. I'll show you how to catch one, and I bet 'twill be apollywog--you're just big enough. "

"But grandma didn't say I might go down to the river. Wait till I goask 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, andshe 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 'emknow I can fish, and how they'll laugh. But there, now, they don't letme climb the fence--I forgot. "

"Well, give us your bonnet, and then you 'scooch' down, and I'll pullyou 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 itin the water--so. You just hold on to the pole. "

"But it jiggles--it tips me!" cried Prudy; and as she spoke she fellface downwards on the bank. 

"Well, that's smart!" said Horace, picking her up. "There, you sitdown 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 youlet 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'sbare 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 afly. "

"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. Waittill you feel the string wiggle, and then speak, but don't scream. "

The children sat still for a few minutes longer, and no sound washeard but now and then a wagon going over the bridge. But they mightas well have dropped their lines in the sand for all the fish theycaught. 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. "Ifit hadn't been for you I should have got, I don't know how many, bythis time. "

Prudy's lip began to tremble, and two big round tears rose to hereyes. 

"Poh! crying about that?" said Horace; "you're a nice little girl ifyou do talk too much, so don't you cry. "

Horace rather enjoyed seeing Grace and Susy in tears, but could neverbear to have Prudy cry. 

"I'll tell you what it is, " said Horace, when Prudy's eyes were clearagain, "I don't think I make much playing hookey. "

"I don't like playing 'hookey' neither, " returned Prudy, "'cause thehooks won't catch 'em. "

"O, you don't know what I mean, " laughed Horace. "When we boys 'outwest' 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 tryit there. "

The river was quite high, and this was one of the logs that haddrifted 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 crepton her hands and knees to the very end of the log, trembling all theway. 

Horace took the two poles and followed; but the moment he stepped onthe log it rolled quite over, carrying Prudy under. 

I do not know what Horace thought then, but he had to think fast. Ifhe had been older he might have plunged in after Prudy, but he wasonly a little boy, seven years old, so he ran for the house. O, how heran!

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 inthe river!"

"Prudy!" screamed aunt Madge, looking wildly at the boy's face, whichwas as white as death. 

"Run, tell grandpa!" cried she, and flew down the steps, and outacross the field towards the river, as if she had wings on herslippers, though it seemed to her they were clogged with lead. 

"Has she just been saved from death only to be drowned?" was one ofthe quick thoughts that rushed across aunt Madge's dizzy brain. "Ishall be too late! too late! And her mother gone! God forgive me! Itis 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 itcan't be. She has sunk by this time!"

"Don't be afraid, Prudy!" cried Mr. Allen, who was just behind auntMadge, "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. Thechild was out of the water, struggling to climb the bank, butslipping back at every step. She was dripping wet, and covered withsand. 

Mr. Allen lifted her in his arms, and there she lay, sobbing as if herheart would break, but not speaking a word. 

When she was lying, clean and warm, in soft blankets, and had had anap, 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 getdrowned, and let the fishes eat me up, and so I kept a-holdin' on. "

"Only think, " said grandma, shuddering, and looking at Horace, "ifPrudy 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 fellinto the water, the boy ran out of the room, and hid in the greenchamber, 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 logthat 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 astory. 

"Fairy, you know, " said Susy. 

"A fairy story?" repeated aunt Madge. "I don't know about that. I tolda little boy a fairy story once, and he went right off and whisperedto his mother that I was a very wicked lady, for that story wasn'ttrue, not a bit; and if a baby six months old should hear it, hewouldn'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 tobe called a wicked lady, you know. "

"There, now, auntie, " said Susy, "don't you s'pose we know they'reonly play-stories? Just as if we hadn't a speck of sense!"

"Well, let me see, " said aunt Madge, covering her eyes with herfingers. "Once upon a time when the moon was full----"

"Full of what?" said Prudy, who was leaning on the arm of her auntie'schair, and peeping up into her face, "full of fairies?"

"When the moon was round, my child, " said auntie, stroking the little one'shair. "But wait. I'll tell a story Prudy can understand--wouldn't you, mydears? 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 _littleMadge_?"

"Yes, they called me little Madge sometimes, and sometimes Maggie. When I was about as old as our Susy, I happened to go into theback-room one day, and saw uncle Edward's hatchet lying on themeat-block. I knew I had no right to touch it, but it came into myhead that I would try to break open the clams. The hatchet, instead ofcracking the shells, came down with full force on my foot! I had onthick 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 turningpale. "Did it bring the blood?"

"Yes, indeed! Why, when I went into the kitchen, my footsteps weretracked with little pools of blood, oozing out of my boot. SisterMaria screamed out, --'O, look at Maggie! She's cut her foot with thathatchet!'"

"'No, no, I haven't, ' said I, for I was frightened almost to death, and afraid of being punished for disobedience. You see father hadforbidden us little ones ever to touch the hatchet. "

"Why, you told a right up and down----fib, " said Susy, lookingshocked. 

"A real whopper, " said Horace, shaking his head. 

"So I did, children, and before my story is done you shall see whatmisery 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 offthen. "

"O dear, " sighed Prudy, "I wish he hadn't gone to the wars. How itmade you cry!"

"Hush up, please, can't you, Prudy?" said Susy. "Aunt Madge is tellinga story. "

"Well, they sent for the doctor in great haste, and then tried to pulloff 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. Whenthe 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'sno half-way work about you. You are the child that had the tip of afinger clipped off in the corn-sheller, hey?'"

"I was always afraid of Dr. Foster, so I only buried my face in myapron, 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_ thehatchet!'"

"I knew well enough that the doctor didn't believe me. "

"'So, so, ' said he. 'Very well, never mind how 'twas done, but keepyour foot still, little one, and we'll talk about the hatchet anothertime. Mrs. Parlin, if it goes to bleeding again, be sure to send forme. '"

"It was ever so long before I could walk a step. Every time any bodyspoke of my hurt, I said, 'Why, I was just coming into the house withthose 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 nevertouched 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'; ofcourse they did!"

"Well, every time the doctor came to see me, he laughed and asked mehow I cut my foot. "

"'Just the same as I did in the first place, you know, ' said I. 'Idon't know nothing about it, only I never touched the hatchet!'"

"'Well, ' he would answer, 'you remember the old saying, A lie wellstuck to, is better than the truth wavering. '"

"I didn't know what that meant, but he laughed so that I knew he wasmaking sport of me. I knew nobody believed me. The hatchet had beenfound red with blood, and mother looked, O, so sad! but I had toldthat falsehood so many times that it did seem as if I hadn't anycourage left to tell the truth. It had grown to be very easy to keepsaying, 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 athorn in my pillow. "

"A thorn?" said Prudy. 

"Not a real thorn, dear. I mean I had told a wrong story, and Icouldn't feel happy. "

Here Susy turned away her head and looked out of the window, thoughshe saw nothing there but grandpa coming in from the garden with awatering-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 namequick, 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 thinkof making presents for the Christmas tree. I didn't like to haveChristmas come while I was feeling so. People are so good that day, Ithought. That is the time when every body loves you, and spends moneyfor you. I wanted to confess, and feel _clean_; but then I had toldthat 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 saidI, 'I _will_; I'll do it!' First, I asked God to forgive me and helpme, 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 deafthen. I thought I should choke; but I caught hold of one of thebuttons 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 beenwaiting to do! And, O, I can tell you he talked to me in such a wayabout the awful sin of lying, that I never, never forgot it, andshan't, if I live to be a hundred years old. "

"My father had forgiven me: I was sure God had forgiven me too; andafter 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'sjust 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 makingbread? and it slipped off my finger this afternoon into the waterbarrel!"

"Why, Susy!"

"And I was a coward, and didn't dare tell you, auntie. I thought maybeyou'd forget I had it, and some time when you asked for it, I wasgoing to say, 'Hadn't you better take a pair of tongs and see if itisn't in the water barrel?'"

"O, Susy!" said aunt Madge. 

"She isn't any worse than me, auntie, " said Grace. "Ma asked me howthe mud came on my handkerchief, and I said Prudy wiped my boots withit. And so she did, auntie, but I told her to; and wasn't I such acoward for laying it off on little Prudy? I am ashamed--you maybelieve 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 myhatchet 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 poorlittle Harry by singing. He is so restless that neither Maria nor Ican do any thing with him. "

This baby, Horace's brother, was sick all the time now, and once in awhile Margaret's sweet voice would charm him to sleep when every thingelse failed. 

CHAPTER X

MORE STORIES

"I move we have some more stories, " said Horace the next evening, asthey 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, " repliedGrace, pushing back her curls; "I reckon Pincher wants to hear one, hebegins to wag his tail. I can't make up any thing as I go along, but Ican tell a sober, true story. "

"Certain true, black and blue?" asked Prudy, who always _would_ havesomething 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? Yousee it was so queer. I don't know where in the world he came from. Hehad one of his eyes put out, and was 'most blind out of the other, andonly a stump of a tail, and didn't know how to get his living likeother dogs. "

"O dear, it was so funny he should take it into his head to come toschool, now wasn't it, auntie? He knew Miss All'n just as well ascould be, and used to go with the rest of the scholars to meet herevery morning; and when she patted him on the head, and said 'Good olddoggie, ' it did seem like he'd fly out of his wits. "

"Then when she rang the bell he trotted in just as proud, hanging downhis head as meek as could be. He thought she rang the bell for him asmuch as any of the rest of the scholars. His seat was right by thestove on the floor--it _wasn't_ a seat, I mean; and he just lay therethe 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 seatsjust as sly sometimes, and put his nose into the dinner baskets. Itell 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, andthe 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 hewas just as good as any body. He never bit nor growled, that dogdidn't, not a mite. There wasn't one of us but he loved, --'speciallyMiss All'n. "

"Now wasn't it too bad Mrs. Snell made such a fuss? She didn't lovethat dog one speck, --I don't know as she ever saw him, --and she didn'tcare 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'dbe asleep, you know, by the stove, or else under the seats, and MissAll'n would forget, and suppose he was gone with the rest of thescholars. "

"Well, he was a darling old dog, if he _did_ chew up the books! I justabout know he got hungry in the night, or he never would have thoughtof it. How did _he_ know it was wrong? he didn't know one letter fromanother. He spoiled Jenny Snell's spelling-book, I know, and lots ofreaders 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 andtold 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 makingfun. --The dog, of _course_; and they sent for the city marshal. Youknow Mr. Garvin, Horace?"

"Yes, the man that scowls so, with the scar on his nose, and ahorse-whip in his hand. "

"Miss All'n cried. She lifted up the lid of her desk, and hid herhead, but we all knew she was crying. You see we had such a time aboutit. We thought he was going to carry the dog off to some place, andtake care of him like he was his master, or may be shut him up, orsomething that way; but, do you believe, he just _shot_ that dog rightin the yard!"

"How dreadful!"

"Yes, auntie, I reckon it was! We all cried like we should killourselves, and put our fingers in our ears; for we heard the man whenhe 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 hidher face, and cried--and cried--and cried!"

"O dear me, it did seem like we didn't any of us want to go to schoolany more, if we couldn't see our old dog coming to meet us, and rubhis 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 byboth 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 proposestories, "I'd like to get shut of it. Pshaw! I can't think ofnothin'. "

"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 truestory, 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 doublequick, and be done with it. "

"You'd ought to see my pa's horse out West, auntie; there ain't aYankee horse can hold a candle to him; I'll leave it to Pincher. Hisname is Sancho, and my ma sends him to market mornings, early, withthe basket, and puts some money in, and a note to the butcher, andthat horse comes back, sir, just as fast as he can trot, sir, and hehas the meat there all wrapped up, and just has the basket in histeeth, 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? Iwas 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. "Nowit's Susy's turn. "

"You talk about something else a while, " replied Susy, "and let me bea-thinkin'. "

"I'll tell one, " cried Prudy, "let _me_, now. "

"Once there was goin' to be three balls, and Cindrilla didn't have nomother, and her father didn't have no wife, so he married him one. Andthere was goin' to be three great big balls, and Cindrilla asked hermother if she couldn't go, and her mother said, No, indeed; she hadn'tnothin' 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 inthe parlor, all dressed up spandy clean, and she made Cindrilla sit inthe coal-hod. "

"And then she told her to get a great punkin, and it turned into agold 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, andthen 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 inthe 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 goingto be a real good one, about 'The Bravest of Lion's Castle, ' and Icouldn't think of a thing to say, and now Prudy has drove it all outof my head. "

"Well, children, " said aunt Madge, "suppose we give Susy a little moretime, 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 soonafter this. "So we little folks are going out to spend the day, arewe?"

"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 thetime. 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 younglady, hardly fifteen years old. 

"Come, Prudy, " said she, smiling, "please run up stairs and get myparasol--there's a darling. "

But Prudy was picking a pebble out of her shoe, and did not start atonce. 

"Ah!" said aunt Louise, drawing on her gloves, "I see Prudy isn'tgoing 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 allthis long day with three noisy children? I'm afraid some of them willget drowned, or run over, or break their necks. You see if somethingawful doesn't happen before we get back. "

"O, I hope not, " replied sister Madge, laughing. "I think there isnothing so very wicked about our little nieces. "

"Here is your parasol, auntie, " said Prudy, coming back. "I know who Ilove best of any body in this house, and it ain't the one that's gother 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 auntLouise, laughing, "for I do believe she thinks you children are aslovely as little white rose-buds. --Come, are you all ready? Then runalong, and I'll follow after. "

"O, I'm so glad I'm alive!" cried little Prudy, hoping on one foot; "Ido hope I shall never die!"

"I just mean to be careful, and not get a speck of dirt on my cleanapron, " whispered Susy to Grace. "Aunt Madge ironed it this morning. "

They had such a pleasant walk through the streets of the beautifulvillage, in the "sunshine, calm and sweet!" Grace thought the treesmet overhead just as if they were clasping hands, and playing a gameof "King's Cruise" for every body to "march through. "

When they had almost reached aunt Martha's house, aunt Louise stoppedthem, saying, --

"Now, tell me if you are going to be good children, so I shan't beashamed 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 Ihadn't supposed you'd try to be good?"

"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't, " said Prudy, with some dignity, "Isaid '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 auntLouise, "and not make any body crazy. "

By this time they had gone up the nice gravel walk, and aunt Marthahad come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embracethem all at once. 

"Dear little souls, " said she, "come right into the house, and let metake off your things. I've been looking for you these two hours. Thisis my little nephew, Lonnie Adams. --Shake hands with the little girls, my dear. "

Lonnie was a fair-haired, sickly little boy, seven years old. Thechildren very soon felt at ease with him. 

It was so pleasant in aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the childrentook such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they wereall sorry when aunt Louise "got nervous, " and thought it was timethey went off somewhere to play. 

"Very well, " said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the houseand grounds, if they like, with Lonnie. "

So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, andat 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 anykind 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 willingI 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 waylittle Paddy girls act that steal things. "

"I ain't a stealer, " cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw youonce, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. _You're_ aPaddy!--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'mgoing to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback, " saidhe, 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, andreaching 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 theink 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 anyharm. Won't you promise not to tell?"

"Yes, I will, " said Susy; but she ought not to have promised any suchthing. 

"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 tolift her into it, and tried to help. 

"I guess this honey soap will take it out, " said Susy; but with alltheir washing and rinsing they could not make black white any morethan 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 downstairs 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 backwith it, and don't tell about the ink. "

Aunt Martha and Bridget were taking up the dinner when Prudy went downinto 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 haveit every little once in a while. "

"Milk and water, I suppose, " said aunt Martha. "Can't you wait tilldinner, 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--withwhite 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; "Ididn't, did I? they won't '_low_ me to tell. "

Aunt Louise, passing through the kitchen, caught some of the lastwords, and rushed up stairs, two steps at a time. 

"O, Susy Parlin, you naughty, naughty child, what _have_ you beeninto? Who spilled that ink?"

"It got tipped over, " answered Susy, in a fright, but not forgettingher promise. 

"Of course it got tipped over--but not without hands, you carelessgirl! 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, andtold 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 littlegirl I'd have her sent to bed. That dress and apron ought to besoaking 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 bywhen the childers does such capers, and wait till they get moresinse. "

Poor little Susy had to go home in the noonday sun, hanging down herhead like a guilty child, and crying all the way. Some of the tearswere for her soiled clothes, some for her auntie's sharp words, andsome for the nice dinner she had left. 

"O, aunt Madge, " sobbed she, when they had got home, "I kept as farbehind aunt Louise as I could, so nobody would think I was her littlegirl. She was ashamed of me, I looked so!"

"There, there! try not to cry, " said aunt Madge, as she took offSusy's soiled clothes. 

"But I can't stop crying, I feel so bad. If there's any body gets intoa 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 mindthat the poor child should be comforted. So she quietly put away thesilk dress she was so anxious to finish, and after dinner took thefresh, tidy, happy little Susy across the fields to aunt Martha'sagain, where the unlucky day was finished very happily after all. 

"The truth is, Louise, " said aunt Madge that night, after theirreturn, "_Lonnie_ spilled that ink, and Susy was not at all to blame. You scolded her without mercy for being careless, and she bore it allbecause she would not break her promise to that cowardly boy. "

"O, how unjust I have been!" said aunt Louise, who did not mean to beunkind, in spite of her hasty way of speaking. 

"You _have_ been unjust, " said aunt Madge. "Only think what a triflingthing it is for a little child to soil her dress! and what a greatthing to have her keep her word! Susy has a tender heart, and itgrieves her to be unjustly scolded; but she would bear it all ratherthan 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 shesplit her johnny-cake, and spread it open, saying it was asinging-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, shakingher 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;' andyou'll say, 'Prudy, go right out in the kitchen, and don't let me seeyou till you come back pleasant. '"

Grandma put her head out of the window a moment, for she didn't wantany body to see her smile. 

"This is one of Prudy's days, " thought she. "I'm really afraid I shallhave to punish her before it's over. "

Very soon after breakfast the doorbell rang, and a little boy left anote directed to Miss Grace Clifford. It said, --

"Miss Grace Clifford, the Misses Parlin, and Mr. Horace Clifford, arerespectfully 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 inthe Pines?"

"It means a picnic, that's all, " said aunt Madge, "and a very nicetime you will have. "

"A picnic!" screamed all the voices in chorus. It was almost too goodto believe. Grace clapped her hands and laughed. Susy ran about theroom like a crazy thing. Prudy hopped up and down, and Horace tried tostand on his head. 

"Now scamper, every one of you, " said aunt Madge, "for I must go rightto 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 hopeSusy 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, " addedPrudy, anxious to put in a word. 

"Hear me speak, " said aunt Louise. "I hope Susy and Prudy don't thinkthey are going to this picnic, for the truth is, they haven't beeninvited. "

"Not invited?" gasped Susy. 

"The note says, 'the Misses Parlin, '" said aunt Louise, gravely. "Thatmight mean your grandmother, but it doesn't! I take it to mean _theyoung ladies_, Madge (or Mig) and Louise, your beautiful aunties, whoare often called 'the Misses Parlin. ' Of course it _can't_ mean twolittle slips of girls in short dresses!"

Susy burst into tears, and tried to talk at the same time, but nobodycould understand her. 

"O, O!" moaned Prudy, burying her face in the roller-towel, "if Ican't go I shall just lay down my head and cry!"

"It's not true, children, not one word; she's only joking, " said auntMadge, laughing and shaking the egg-beater at her sister. "I'm reallyashamed of your aunt Louise for trying to tease you. What _do_ yousuppose any body wants of old grown-up folks at your nice littleparty? There, there, don't laugh _quite_ so loud. Run away, and stayaway, if you want me ever to do any thing. "

In a few moments the children were playing out of doors in highspirits, and Prudy had told the workmen, in her pretty, lisping way, "that every one of we children were invited to a _jispy_ supper; hada 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 hadswept it or not, and had to go and ask. 

"She's swept it off, " said Prudy, speaking for her, "but she didn'tsweep it _way off_!"

"I should judge not, " said grandma; "and here is Prudy, with her bibon yet, and Grace hasn't made her bed. Do you think such childrenought 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 toact so. Let's go and do up our work right nice, and then see if wecan't help grandma. "

And off went the two little girls, with beaming faces, trying to makethemselves useful. 

"What shall I do?" thought Prudy, for every body was at work, --evenHorace, who was turning the grindstone for the men. 

"I'll dust the parlors, that's what I'll do. It does take aunt Madgeso long. "

So, with the big feather duster, Prudy made a great stir among thebooks and ornaments, and at last knocked over a little pitcher andbroke its nose. 

"You little meddlesome thing, " cried aunt Louise, as soon as she knewit, "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 theduster. 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 auntLouise, laughing in spite of herself to see the little one set to workwith 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 shewould keep on trying to make herself useful. It was aunt Madge shewanted to help--good aunt Madge, who was so busy cooking for the gypsysupper. 

[Illustration: PRUDY DUSTING. ]

"I'll feed her bird, " thought the child; "he sings as if he washungry. "

Now aunt Madge had fed little Daffy before sunrise, and he was asyellow and happy as a canary can be. But silly little Prudy trottedoff after a piece of sponge cake, climbed into a chair, opened thecage door, and swung the cake before his eyes. 

Of course Daffy flew out, and one might suppose that was the last ofhim; but it so happened that the windows were not up. 

Prudy ran, in great fright, to tell aunt Madge, and when she openedthe door, the cat got in; and such a time as there was, you mayimagine. Kitty rushed for the canary, aunt Louise rushed for thekitty, and aunt Madge for the bird. At last, Daffy was caught, andsafe 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, forshe knows how to keep her temper. "

Louise said nothing, but she felt the rebuke; and as she left theroom, there was a bright color in her cheeks. 

"Prudy, " said aunt Madge, gently, "you didn't mean to open the cagedoor, did you?"

Prudy remembered that she had been scolded before for saying "I didn'tmean to. "

"Yes'm, I did, " replied she, in a choked voice, "I meant to do ita-purpose. "

"I'm really astonished, " cried aunt Madge, raising both hands. "Thenit's surely my duty to punish you. "

"You may, " sobbed Prudy. "You may shut me up, and not let me have nodinner, 'cause I ain't hungry. I've been eatin' cake!"

"I think, " said aunt Madge, "it would be a better punishment to keepyou home from the party. "

"O, " cried Prudy, eagerly, "wouldn't you rather snip my hands? You cansnip 'em with a piece o' whalebone, you know, and switch me all overwith a switch, and do _every thing_ to me, if you'll only let me go tothe 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, neverin 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. "Soyou didn't mean to be a naughty girl after all. I am very glad ofthat, Prudy, for I couldn't tell what to make of you. But you mustnever touch the cage again. Little girls that want to _help_, must asksomebody to tell them what to do. There, now, kiss me, dear, and I'llforgive you, and we won't say any more about your being naughty, ifyou'll only remember next time. "

Prudy laughed, and twinkled off the tears. She was what aunt Madgecalled a "bird-child, " and was never unhappy but a little while at atime. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE GYPSY SUPPER

After a great, great while, it was afternoon, and the children went upto 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 thechildren. It wasn't at all like having a party in a parlor, wherethere are chairs and rugs in the way; and where you can't run and jumpwithout being afraid of hurting something. No, there wasn't any dangerof scratching the varnish off the trees, nor any danger of soiling thesoft carpet of the earth. 

And if there hadn't been a party, it was enough to make any body happyonly to breathe the sweet air, and look away down at the whitevillage, and away off at the blue hills. 

Dr. Gray's daughter Ruth, a girl of fourteen, was to have the care ofPrudy; and at first she followed the child about like her shadow. 

"You dear little pet, " said she, "don't walk so fast. There, now, mysweet 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, " addedshe, feeling anxious to say something, for she thought Prudy wouldwant to be amused, "do you love your aunt Madge any? _I_ think she'svery good and nice. "

"Yes'm, " said Prudy, "I've kissed her so much that I love her a gooddeal. "

"Well, I declare, " laughed Ruth, "that's a new way of learning to loveany 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 thinkI'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 pickflowers, and if you find a strawberry I'll give you a cent. "

"As if we was babies, " thought the little girls, for they were wiseenough 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 nameis 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'poseshe's 'most an _April fool_?"

After watching Prudy to the child's vexation for about two hours, Ruthforgot all about her, and it so happened that the little thing strayedoff 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 hispocket, and the boys meant to build a fire. Horace gathered the drysticks and crossed them, so all Grasshopper had to do was to strike amatch, 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 sobecause it pops in the fire. "

Prudy did not doubt it. She never doubted any thing Horace said. Shestood looking on, with dumb surprise, as he took out of the insidepocket of his raglan three small fishes. 

"Now, " said he, "if we can cook these for our supper, won't we goa-flyin'?"

"Be they minnies?" asked Prudy. "O, I know; it's mack fishes!"

"She means _mackerel_, you see, " said Horace, with a wise look atGrasshopper. "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 giveup 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, sittingdown and looking on. 

Horace said no more, but went quietly to work and whittled some longsplinters, on which he stuck the fish and set them to roasting. True, they got badly scorched and dreadfully smoked, but that was not allthat happened. A spark flying out caught Prudy's gingham dress, andset it in flames in a second. 

Whether the boys would have known what to do, I can't say; but justthen Sam Walker, a good-natured colored man, came up and put out theflames before Prudy fairly knew there were any. Then he brought waterfrom a spring and drowned the bonfire, and gave the boys "a piece ofhis mind. "

All the while poor Prudy was running off into the thickest part of thewood, crying bitterly. Sam ran after her, and caught her up, as if shehad been a stray lamb; and though she struggled hard, he carried herto the picnic ground, where the large girls were just spreading thetable for supper. 

"You'd better look out for these here young ones, " said Sam. "This onewould have been roasted sure, if I hadn't a-happened along in the nickof time. "

Ruth Gray dropped the paper of candy she was untying, and turned verypale. She had been too busy playing games to remember that she had thecare 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'tget burnt a mite, did you, honey?"

"No'm, I ain't cryin', " sobbed Prudy. "I ain't crying any thing aboutthat;" and every word seemed to be shaken out, as if there was alittle earthquake at her heart--"_there--is--black folks!_ O, he isjust as--_black_!"

"Is that all, " said Grace, stroking Prudy's hair. "Didn't she ever seeany negroes--any nice black negro men before, Susy?"

"I thought she had; why, we have 'em in the streets at Portland, lotsand 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 andwell-behaved, "even the boys, " as Ruth said; and though they all hadkeen appetites, nobody was greedy. 

By and by, when it would not do to stay any longer, they all startedfor home, happy and tired. 

Ruth held Prudy's little hand in a firm grasp, and wished she had heldit 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 tobed, 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 anybody. 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 heknow how they was goin' to look when he made 'em? That man thatcatched me up, why, how he must feel!"

"He was very kind, " said aunt Madge, trembling as she thought of thechild's danger. "O Prudy, did you thank him?"

"No, I didn't, " replied Prudy. "I didn't know as he could hear anything. 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'sgood, 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, andyou 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; andsome people don't like black men. "

"I should think they'd be ashamed, " cried the child. "Why, _I_ lovehim, '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 prayerover 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 thelittle children, and the little mites o' babies. And bless all the menand 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, andbless all the black folks, forever, amen. "

CHAPTER XIV

THE ANGEL-BABY

The beautiful summer was passing away very fast. Only a few days moretill autumn. A little longer, and the cousins must separate; so, forthe time that was left, they clung all the more closely together. 

I have called it a beautiful summer; so it was, but there is onesorrowful thing I have not said much about. There was one troublewhich always made the children feel sad when they stopped to think ofit. 

While they were playing in the hay-field, or taking supper "up in thetrees, " now and then they would hear the tired cry of the darling sickbaby. 

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, arethey, 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; "theytake a man and put him in a bear's buffalo coat, and that makes adoctor. "

"And a gig, " said Horace, "and some sharp things, and lots of littlebottles. "

"What children!" said Grace, looking down upon them with a loftysmile. "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, "butshe'd be willing I could chew 'em and get the _good_ all out--don'tyou 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'tswallow 'em. "

"O, what a little snipe, " cried Grace, laughing, "your pocket isstuffed 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 hersevere illness; "then I'll throw 'em away. I don't love such sourthings anyhow. I was only _hung-buggin_'. "

And Prudy went down the wooden stairs which led from the trees, andwalked slowly towards the house, dropping the green apples one by oneinto 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, andthen 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 mewhere them raisins is--the ones you didn't put in the pudding? Tellme, 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, afaint 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 downthe box. "You may have some, for I know you wouldn't take them withoutleave, and Susy wouldn't either, you funny child!"

"Now, " said she, putting the raisins in Prudy's apron, "I want you togo 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 theheartache, "the baby is a _great deal worse_, darling! Tell thechildren I will send them some dinner up in the trees, and don't letHorace come into the house. You know he means to keep still, but hisboots make so much noise. "

Prudy gathered up the raisins, and went out quietly, her happy littleface looking very sober. But the "bird-child" could not be sad long ata time, and she had hardly climbed the steps into the trees, and givenaway the clusters of raisins, before the sick baby was almostforgotten. 

"There, " said Horace, suddenly, "I must go right into the house andsee 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 bigshe'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 Madgedidn't say any thing about _dying_--about Harry's _dying_, did she, Prudy?"

"No, " replied Prudy, stopping a moment to think; "she said he waswusser--a great deal wusser, darling. And then she talked aboutHorace'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'veplayed 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 alwaysbeen good to little brother. O Susy, you ought to have seen how Harryused to jump when he'd hear Horace open the door; he always expected afrolic!"

"Didn't we have _times_!" cried Horace, dropping his eyes, which werefull of tears. 

"O Susy, " said Grace, "do you suppose any one that's sick all summerever gets well?"

"I don't know, " sighed Susy; "mother says if God is willing they'llget 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, sometimesbreaking off in the midst of a game to talk about the baby. It seemedlike a very strange day. The sky looked so calm and peaceful that youcould almost fancy it was keeping still to listen to something a greatway off. The quiet trees might have been dreaming of heaven, Susythought. Horace begged her now to tell that fairy story about "TheBravest of Lion's Castle;" but Susy said it made her feel wicked tothink of fairy stories _that_ day, though she couldn't tell why. 

When the children went into the house at supper-time it was verystill. Nobody was to be seen but aunt Madge, who gave them some bowlsof bread and milk, and said the family had taken tea. 

A kind of awe crept over Grace as she looked at the tearful face ofher auntie, and she dared not ask about the baby. 

After they had finished their supper, aunt Madge said, "You may allfollow me into the nursery; I have something to tell you. --Our dearlittle pale baby, who has been sick day and night all this longsummer, will never feel sick or cry any more. God has taken him toheaven to be a little angel. "

All but Prudy knew that she spoke of death. Grace flung herself on thefloor and wept aloud. Horace rushed up stairs into the back chamber, without saying a word to any body; and Susy buried her face in thesofa-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 purelittle form of the baby lying on the bed, in a soft crimson dress, shesmiled 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 wassick, and it made him too tired to _breathe_ so much. "

Why every body should weep was more than Prudy could tell; but shethought it must be right to do as the rest did, and by bedtime she wassobbing 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 criedas tight as I could spring!"

But when aunt Madge wanted to put Prudy to bed she was unwilling togo. "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. Theyhaven't put his wings on yet!"

Aunt Madge was puzzled, and hardly knew what to say, for it is noteasy to make such very little children know the difference between thebody, which goes back to dust, and the spirit, which goes to God whogave it. 

She talked a long while, but I doubt if Prudy understood one word, forwhen the casket which held the form of little Harry was buried in thegarden, she cried because the earth was heaped over it. 

"What makes 'em do it?" she asked, "he can't get to heaven through allthat dirt!"

But by and by, when days passed, and there was no longer a baby inthe house, Prudy began to think of him as one of the angels. And onemorning 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 hishead, and he _flowed_ in the air like a bird. There was ever so manylittle 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, canit, 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 theirtime had come; so they just made the best of it, like sad faceslaughing through tears, and glowed and flushed in a perfect blaze ofglory, making believe they were having splendid times all bythemselves, and didn't care for what was coming. 

The Parlin children had stayed a great deal longer than their parentsat first meant they should stay, and now they must really go back toPortland. 

The little cousins were sorry to part, for you know they had learnedto love one another dearly. Grace and Susy clung together till thelast moment. 

"O Susy, " sobbed Grace, "don't you forget these good times! Rememberto write, no matter how it looks. I wish I hadn't got to go 'way offout West. I never did have such times in any place as we've had hereat grandma's. "

"Nor I either, " said Susy, looking sorrowfully at the barn, the seatin the trees, and the clover patch. "Remember, you're coming back injust two years. Won't it be splendid?--O dear, but two years is 'mostforever!" added Susy, suddenly breaking down. 

"Good by, Prudy, " said Horace, climbing into the stage-coach, quiteout of breath. He had run all the way to the post office just for thesake of seeing her again. 

"Good by, Prudy. You're the cunningest little spud! If you lived outWest I'd just go a-flyin'. "

Nobody knew whether Horace cried or not, for nobody saw him tilldinner time, but then he looked very sober indeed. He and Grasshopperhad been building a fort, he said; and after he had told so much, heseemed 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 sorryPrudy was gone. 

Grace talked a great deal about Susy, and asked her mamma if she mightnot invite her to go out West some time. 

Mrs. Clifford said she should be very glad, indeed, to have a visitfrom 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 ofthe visit in a minute. In two minutes she had a firm belief in it; andthe last we see of Grace and Horace in this book, they are sitting onthe piazza, eagerly talking about the next winter, when they shallboth 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, withflowing 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 'emcanned 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, " criedHorace, laughing aloud. "Seems like I can see her mouth puckering upnow. "

Susy and Prudy, all this while, were riding home in the cars, underthe 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 putoilnuts 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 toget so far away from the folks at grandma's. Don't it seem reallonesome?"

"No, indeed, " replied Prudy. "I'm glad we're goin' home to see motherand 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 besaid 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 wentto Portland. 

CHRISTMAS DAY. 

DEAR MR. 'GUSTUS ALLEN:

When you went off to the wars aunt Madge cried some, for I saw herwiping her eyes. You asked me if I loved you for the candy, but Ididn't; I loved you for the nuts and oranges. 

I think you was real good to write me a letter. I had just as liefkiss you as not if you _wasn't_ my father; and aunt Madge says she'llanswer it, 'cause you couldn't read my writing; _but_ I hain't got anypig! He was a pinky winky little thing, but grandpa kept a keepin' himeatin', and he got so big once when I was gone that they had to killhim. 

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'tlike pigs _now_. 

Of course I'm going on five, for if I wasn't most five my grandpa Readwouldn't be dead most two years. 

I've got my presents, but they ain't took off the tree yet. Mothergave me a tea-set. O, I wish you could see it, 'cause you wouldn'tbreak 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 thingto 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. Theyused 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 itshook in her mouth, and it hurt her so I had to cry. But _my_ teethare drove in real hard. I mean it hurt her when 'twas pulled, that'swhat 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 hewinked. He had a nest in the flower-bed last summer. 

I like to stay at grandma's, so I can jump off of something. Motherwon't let us hunt for any eggs to Portland--'cause we haven't anyhens. 

Horace was a captain to his men. He made me a sled. I had a new dresson 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 thebaby died. God has got the baby up in heaven, but the _tired part_ ofhim 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 'mostcrazy, and he's comin' to-night. 

I s'pose he'll bring me something, for I've been good. When I actcross, it's 'cause I don't feel well. 

Aunt Madge says to me I've wrote enough, and I'm tired. She's wrotethe letter, but I made it up. 

I wish you a Merry Christmas! She asked me if I forgot to wish it, butI 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. _

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Sophie May's Complete Works

LITTLE FOLKS' BOOKSIllustrated. Per Volume, 75 cents

_LITTLE PRUDY'S CHILDREN_Wee LucyWee Lucy's SecretJimmy BoyJimmy, Lucy, and AllKyzie DunleeLucy in Fairyland

_LITTLE PRUDY STORIES_Little PrudyLittle Prudy's Sister SusyLittle Prudy's Captain HoraceLittle Prudy's Cousin GraceLittle Prudy's Story BookLittle Prudy's Dotty Dimple

_DOTTY DIMPLE SERIES_Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmother'sDotty Dimple Out WestDotty Dimple at SchoolDotty Dimple at HomeDotty Dimple at PlayDotty Dimple's Flyaway

_LITTLE PRUDY FLYAWAY SERIES_Little Folks AstrayPrudy Keeping HouseAunt Madge's StoryLittle GrandmotherLittle GrandfatherMiss Thistledown

_FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES_Flaxie FrizzleDoctor PapaLittle PitchersTwin CousinsFlaxie's KittyleenFlaxie Growing Up

_THE QUINNEBASSET SERIES_Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume, $1. 25The Doctor's DaughterQuinnebasset GirlsIn Old QuinnebassetOur HelenThe Asbury TwinsJanet; A Poor Heiress

HER FRIEND'S LOVER. Cloth, $1. 00PAULINE WYMAN. Illustrated. Cloth, $1. 25JOY BELLS. Illustrated. Cloth, $1. 25

ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELYIllustrated Catalogue sent by mail postpaid

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. , Boston

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