LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSY

by

SOPHIE MAY

New YorkHurst & CompanyPublishers

[Illustration]

TO MY LITTLE NIECE Katie ClarkeTHIS BOOK IS FOR YOU, KATIE, WITH THE LOVE OF YOUR AUNTIE. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER

 I. KEEPING SECRETS II. BEFORE DAYLIGHT III. SUSY'S CHRISTMAS IV. SUSY'S WINGS V. PRUDY'S TROUBLE VI. ROSY FRANCES EASTMAN MARY VII. LITTLE TROUBLES VIII. ANNIE LOVEJOY IX. MORAL COURAGE X. RUTHIE TURNER XI. SUSY'S BIRTHDAY XII. FAREWELL

PREFACE. 

Here is a story about the oldest of the three little Parlin girls, "sister Susy;" though so many things are always happening to Prudy thatit is not possible to keep her out of the book. 

I hope my dear little friends will see how kind it was in God to sendthe "slow winter" and the long nights of pain to little Prudy. 

If trouble should come to us, let us grow gentle, and patient, andlovely. 

Little friends, be sure of one thing--our dear Father in heaven sends ussomething hard to bear only because he loves us. 

SISTER SUSY. 

CHAPTER I. 

KEEPING SECRETS. 

We might begin this story of Susy Parlin on a New Year's day, only it isso hard to skip over Christmas. There is such a charm about Christmas!It makes you think at once of a fir tree shining with little candles andsparkling with toys, or of a droll Santa Claus with a pack full ofpresents, or of a waxen angel called the Christ-child. 

And it is just as well to date from the twenty-fifth of December, because, as "Christ was born on Christmas day, " that is really the"Happy New Year. "

For a long while the three little Parlin girls had been thinking anddreaming of presents. Susy's wise head was like a beehive, full oflittle plans and little fancies, which were flying about like bees, andbuzzing in everybody's ears. 

But it may be as well to give you a short description of the Parlinfamily. 

Susy's eyes were of an "evening blue, " the very color of the sky in asummer night; good eyes, for they were as clear as a well which has the"truth" lying at the bottom of it. She was almost as nimble as asquirrel, and could face a northern snow storm like an engineer. Herhair was dark brown, and as smooth and straight as pine-needles; whilePrudy's fair hair rippled like a brook running over pebbles. Prudy'sface was sunny, and her mouth not much larger than a button-hole. 

The youngest sister was named Alice, but the family usually called herDotty, or Dotty Dimple, for she was about as round as a period, and hada cunning little dimple in each cheek. She had bright eyes, long curls, and a very short tongue; that is, she did not talk much. She was twoyears and a half old before she could be prevailed upon to say anythingat all. Her father declared that Dotty thought there were people enoughin the world to do the talking, and she would keep still; or perhapsshe was tired of hearing Prudy say so much. 

However, she had a way of nodding her curly head, and shaking her plumplittle forefinger; so everybody knew very well what she meant. She hadlearned the use of signs from a little deaf and dumb boy of whom weshall hear more by and by; but all at once, when she was ready she beganto talk with all her might, and soon made up for lost time. 

The other members of the family were only grown people: Mr. And Mrs. Parlin, the children's excellent parents; Mrs. Read, their kind Quakergrandmother; and the Irish servant girl, Norah. 

Just now Mrs. Margaret Parlin, their "aunt Madge, " was visiting them, and the little girls felt quite easy about Christmas, for they gave itall up to her; and when they wanted to know how to spend their smallstock of money, or how much this or that pretty toy would cost, Prudyalways settled it by saying, "Let's go ask auntie: _she'll_ know, forshe's been through the Rithmetic. "

Prudy spoke these words with awe. She thought "going through theRithmetic" was next thing to going round the world. 

"O Auntie, I'm so glad you came, " said Susy, "for I didn't see how I wasever going to finish my Christmas presents: I go to school, you know, and it takes me all the rest of the time to slide!"

The children were busy making wonderful things "all secret;" or theywould have been secret if Prudy hadn't told. 

For one thing, she wondered very much what Susy could be doing with fourpins stuck in a spool. She watched the nimble fingers as they passed theworsted thread over the pin-heads, making stitches as fast as Susy couldwink. 

"It looks like a tiny snake all sticked through the hole in the spool, "said Prudy, eager with curiosity. "If you ain't a-goin' to speak, Idon't know what I _shall_ do, Susy Parlin!"

When poor Susy could not pretend any longer not to hear, she answeredPrudy, half vexed, half laughing, "O, dear, I s'pose you'll tease andtease till you find out. Won't you never say a word to anybody, _never_?"

"Never in my world, " replied the little one, with a solemn shake of herhead. 

"Well, it's a lamp-mat for auntie. It's going to be blue, and red, andall colors; and when it's done, mother'll sew it into a round, and putfringe on: won't it be splendid? But remember, you promised not totell!"

Now, the very next time Prudy sat in her auntie's lap she whispered inher ear, --

"You don't know what _we're_ making for you, _all secret_, out ofworsted, and _I_ shan't tell!"

"Mittens?" said aunt Madge, kissing Prudy's lips, which were pressedtogether over her sweet little secret like a pair of sugar-tongsclinching a lump of sugar. 

"Mittens? No, indeed! Better'n that! There'll be fringe all over it;it's in a round; it's to put something on, --to put the _lamp_ on!"

"Not a lamp-mat, of course?"

"Why, yes it is! O, there, now you've been and guessed all in a minute!Susy's gone an' told! I didn't s'pose she'd tell. I wouldn't for nothin'in my world!"

Was it strange that Susy felt vexed when she found that her nice littlesurprise was all spoiled?

"Try to be patient, " said Mrs. Parlin, gently. "Remember how young andthoughtless your sister is. She never means any harm. "

"O, but, mamma, " replied Susy, "she _keeps_ me being patient all thewhole time, and it's hard work. "

So Susy, in her vexation, said to Prudy, rather sternly, "You littlenaughty thing, to go and tell when you promised not to! You're almost asbad as Dotty. What makes you act so?"

"Why, Susy, " said the child, looking up through her tears, "have I_acted_? I didn't know I'd acted! If you loved me, you wouldn't lookthat way to me. You wrinkle up your face just like Nanny when she saysshe'll shake the naughty out of me, Miss Prudy. "

Then what could Susy do but forgive the sweet sister, who kissed her socoaxingly, and looked as innocent as a poor little kitty that has beenstealing cream without knowing it is a sin?

It was plain that it would not do to trust Prudy with secrets. Her braincould not hold them, any more than a sieve can hold water. So Mrs. Parlin took pity upon Susy, and allowed her and her cousin FlorenceEastman to lock themselves into her chamber at certain hours, and workat their presents without interruption. 

While the little girls sat together busily employed with book-marks andpin-cushions, the time flew very swiftly, and they were as happy as beesin a honeysuckle. 

Mrs. Parlin said she believed nothing less than Christmas presents wouldever make Susy willing to use a needle and thread; for she dislikedsewing, and declared she wished the man who made the needles had toswallow them all. 

The family were to celebrate Christmas evening; for Mr. Parlin was away, and might not reach home in season for Christmas eve. 

For a wonder they were not to have a Tree, but a Santa Claus, "just fora change. "

"Not a truly Santa Claus, that comes puffin' down the chimney, "explained Prudy, who knew very well it would be only cousin Percy undera mask and white wig. 

CHAPTER II. 

BEFORE DAYLIGHT. 

On Christmas morning, at three o'clock, there was a great bustle andpattering of little feet, and buzzing of little voices trying to speakin whispers. Susy and Prudy were awake and astir. 

"Where _do_ you s'pose the stockings are?" buzzed Prudy, in a very loudwhisper. 

"Right by the bed-post, Prudy Parlin; and if you don't take care we'llwake everybody up. --'Sh! 'Sh!"

"Mine's pinned on, " said Prudy; "and I've pricked my fingers. O dearyme!"

"Well, of course you've waked 'em all now, " exclaimed Susy, indignantly: "I might have pricked my fingers to pieces, but I wouldn'thave said a word. "

Mr. And Mrs. Parlin, who were in the next room, were wide awake by thistime; but they said nothing, only listened to the whispers of thechildren, which grew fainter, being smothered and kept down by mouthfulsof candy, lozenges, and peanuts. 

The little girls longed for daybreak. The sun, however, seemed to be inno haste, and it was a long while before there was a peep of light. Susyand Prudy waited, wondering whether the sun would really forget to showhis face; but all the while they waited they were eating candy; so itwas neither dull nor lonely. As for closing their eyes again, they wouldhave scorned the idea. It would be a pity indeed to fall asleep, andlose the pleasure of saying "Merry Christmas" to everybody. Norah, theIrish servant, had said she should be up very early to attend High Mass:they must certainly waylay her on the stairs. How astonished she wouldbe, when she supposed they were both soundly asleep!

"Let me do it myself, " said Susy: "you stay here, Prudy, for you'll besure to make a noise. "

"I'll go on my tippy toes, " pleaded Prudy, her mouth half filled withchocolate drops. 

So through their mother's room they stole softly, only throwing overone chair, and hitting Dotty's crib a little in their haste. Dotty madea sleepy sound of alarm, and Prudy could not help laughing, but only "inher sleeve, " that is, in her "nightie" sleeve, which she put up to hermouth to smother the noise. 

When they had reached the back-stairs Susy whispered, "O, Norah is upand gone down. I hear her in the kitchen. 'Sh! 'Sh!"

Susy thought there was no time to be lost, and she would have rusheddown stairs, two steps at a time, but her little sister was exactly inthe way. 

"Somebody has been and tugged my little chair up here, " said Prudy, "and I must tug it back again. "

So in the dim light the two children groped their way down stairs, Prudygoing first with the chair. 

"O, what a little snail! Hurry--can't you?" said Susy, impatiently;"Norah'll be gone! What's the use of our waking up in the night if wecan't say Merry Christmas to anybody?"

"Well, _ain't_ I a-hurryin' now?" exclaimed Prudy, plunging forward andfalling, chair and all, the whole length of the stairs. 

All the house was awake now, for Prudy screamed lustily. Grandma Readcalled out from the passage-way, --

"O, little Prudence, has thee broken thy neck?"

Mrs. Parlin rushed out, too frightened to speak, and Mr. Parlin ran downstairs, and took Prudy up in his arms. 

"It was--you--did it--Susy Parlin, " sobbed the child. "Ishouldn't--have--fell, if you--hadn't--have--screamed. "

The poor little girl spoke slowly and with difficulty, as if she droppeda bucket into her full heart, and drew up the words one at a time. 

"O, mother, I know it was me, " said Susy meekly; "and I was careless, and it was all in the dark. I'm sure I hope Prudy'll forgive me. "

"No, it wasn't you, neither, " said Prudy, whose good humor was restoredthe moment Susy had made what she considered due confession. "You nevertouched me, Susy! It was the _chair_; and I love you just as dearly asever I did. "

Prudy lay on the sofa for some time, looking quite pale by thegas-light, while her mother rubbed her side, and the rest of the familystood looking at her with anxious faces. 

It was quite an important occasion for Prudy, who always liked to be thecentre of attraction. 

"O, mamma, " said she, closing her eyes languidly, "when the room makesbelieve whirl round, does it _truly_ whirl round?"

The truth was, she felt faint and dizzy, though only for a short time. 

"I wish, " said she, "it had been somebody else that fell down stairs, and not me, for I didn't go down easy! The _prongs_ of the chair pushedright into my side. "

But it did not appear that Prudy was much injured, after all. In a fewminutes she was skipping about the room almost as nimbly as ever, onlystopping to groan every now and then, when she happened to think of it. 

"It is a wonder, " said Mr. Parlin, "that more children are not lamed forlife by such accidents. "

"I have often thought of it, " said aunt Madge. "Some little ones seem tobe making hair-breadth escapes almost every day of their lives. Ibelieve Prudy would have been in her grave long ago, if it had not beenfor her guardian angel. "

The long-expected Christmas had come at last, and Prudy had stumbledinto it, as she stumbled into everything else. But it is an ill windwhich blows no good to anybody; and it so happened that in all thisconfusion Susy was able to "wish a Merry Christmas" to Norah, and to thewhole family besides. 

When Mrs. Parlin found that the children were too thoroughly awake to goto sleep again that morning, she told them they might dress themselvesin the parlor if they would keep as quiet as possible, and let the restof the household take another nap. 

It all seemed very strange and delightful to the little girls. It waslike another sort of life, this new arrangement of stealing about thehouse in the silent hours before daybreak. Susy thought she should liketo sit up all night, and sleep all day, if the mayor would only hush thestreets; it would be so odd!

"O, how dark the clouds are!" said Prudy, peeping out of the window; "it_fogs_ so I can't see a single thing. Susy, I'm going to keep _at watch_of the sky. Don't you s'pose, though, 'twill be Christmas all the same, if there's a snow storm?"

"There's been snow, " said Susy, "all in the night. Look down at thepavement. Don't you wish that was frosted cake?"

"O, the snow came in the night, so not to wake us up, " cried Prudy, clapping her hands; "but it wouldn't have waked us, you know, even inthe night, for it came so still. "

"But why don't the clouds go off?" she added, sadly. 

"I don't know, " replied Susy; "perhaps they are waiting till the suncomes and smiles them away. "

Such happy children as these were, as they sat peeping out of the windowat the dull gray sky!

They did not know that a great mischief was begun that morning--amischief which was no larger yet than "a midge's wing. " They werewatching the clouds for a snow storm; but they never dreamed of suchthings as clouds of _trouble_, which grow darker and darker, and whicheven the beautiful Christmas sun cannot "smile away. "

CHAPTER III. 

SUSY'S CHRISTMAS. 

It was bright and beautiful all day, and then, when no one couldpossibly wait any longer, it was Christmas evening. The coal glowed inthe grate with a splendid blaze: all the gas-burners were lighted, andso were everybody's eyes. If one had listened, one might have heard, from out of doors, a joyful tinkling of sleigh-bells; yet I fancy nobodycould have told whether the streets were still or noisy, or whether thesky had a moon in it or not; for nobody was quiet long enough to notice. 

But by and by, when the right time had come, the folding-doors wereopened, just like the two covers to a Christmas fairy book. Then, in asecond, it was so still you might have heard a pin drop. 

Such a funny little old gentleman had arrived: his face alive withdimples, and smiles, and wrinkles. His cheeks were as red and round aswinter apples, and where there wasn't a wrinkle there was a dimple; andno doubt there was a dimple in his chin, and his chin maybe was double, only you couldn't tell, for it was hidden ever so deep under a beard aswhite as a snow-drift. 

He walked along, tottering under the weight of a huge pack full ofpresents. He extended his small arms towards the audience mostaffectionately, and you could see that his antiquated coat-sleeves werebristling with toys and glistening with ornaments. His eyes twinkledwith fun, and his mouth, which seemed nearly worn out with laughing, grew bigger every minute. 

It took the dear old gentleman some time to clear his throat; but whenhe had found his voice, which at first was as fine as a knitting-needle, and all of a tremble, he made

THE SPEECH OF SANTA CLAUS. 

"How do, my darlings? How do, all round? Bless your little hearts, howdo you all do? Did they tell ye Santa wasn't a-comin', my dears? Didyour grandpas and grandmas say, 'Humph! there isn't any such a person. 'My love to the good old people. I know they mean all right; but tellthem they'll have to give it up now!"

(Here Santa Claus made a low bow. Everybody laughed and clapped; butPrudy whispered, "O, don't he look old all over? What has he done withhis _teeth_? O, dear, has anybody pulled 'em out?")

"Yes, my dears, " continued the old gentleman, encouraged by theapplause, --"yes, my dears, here I am, as jolly as ever! But bless yoursweet little hearts, I've had a terrible time getting here! The wind hasbeen blowin' me up as fierce as you please, and I've been shook roundas if I wasn't of more account than a kernel of corn in a popper!

"O, O, I've been ducked up to the chin in some awful deep snow-drifts, up there by the North Pole! This is the very first time the storms havecome so heavy as to cover over the end of the North Pole! But this yearthey had to dig three days before they could find it. O, ho!

"I was a-wanderin' round all last night; a real shivery night, too! Gotso _broke up_, there's nothing left of me but small pieces. O, hum!

"Such a time as I had in some of those chimneys, you haven't any idee!Why, if you'll believe me, over there in Iceland somebody forgot toclear out the chimney, and there I stuck fast, like a fish-bone in yourthroat; couldn't be picked out, couldn't be swallowed!

"The funniest time that was! How I laughed! And then the children'smother woke up, and, 'O, dear, ' said she; 'hear the wind sigh down thechimney!' 'Only me, ' says I; 'and I've caught you napping this time!'She helped me out, and when I had caught my breath, I climbed out thewindow; but, deary me, I shouldn't wonder if that very woman went tosleep again, and thought it was all a dream! Heigh-ho! that's the waythey always treat poor Santa Claus nowadays. "

(Here the children laughed, and Susy said, "I guess he must have bumpedhis nose against that chimney: see what a hump!")

"O, O, don't you make sport of me, children! My nose is big, to be sure, but I'm going to keep it and make the best of it! If you love Santa ashe loves you, you wouldn't mind the looks. I _was_ going to change mycoat and dickey; but then, thinks I, I'll come just as I am! I pattedmyself on the shoulder, and says I, 'Santa Claus, don't you fret if you_are_ growin' old! You may look a little dried up, but your heart isn'twrinkled; O no!' You see father Adam and me was very near of an age, butsomehow I never growed up! I always thought big folks did very well intheir place; but for my part, give me the children. Hurrah for thechildren!"

(Great clapping and laughing. )

"I tell you, darlings, I haven't forgot a single one of you. My pocketsare running over. I've been preparing presents for you ever since lastfall, when the birds broke up housekeeping. 

"Here's a tippet for the Prudy girl, and she may have it for nothing;and they are cheaper 'n that, if you take 'em by the quantity. 

"I'm a walkin' book-case. Why, I've brought stories and histories enoughto set up a store! I've got more nuts than you can shake a hammer at;but I think there's more bark to 'em than there is bite. O, O, I find Ican't crack 'em with my teeth, as I used to a hundred years ago!

"But my dear, sweet, cunning little hearers, I must be a-goin'. QueenVictoria, said she to me, said she, 'Now, Santa, my love, do you hurryback to fill my children's stockings before the clock strikes twelve. 'Queen Vic is an excellent woman, and is left a poor widow; so I can'tdisappoint her, poor soul!

"I must be a-goin'! Would like to hug and kiss you all round, but can'tstop. (Kisses his hand and bows. ) A Merry Christmas to you all, and aHappy New Year. "

So saying, Santa Claus suddenly disappeared at the hall door, droppinghis heavy pack upon the table. 

In another minute the lively old gentleman was in the front parlorwithout any mask, and of course it was nobody but cousin Percy "with hisface off. "

Then they all fell to work sorting out presents. Prudy seized her furtippet, and put it on at once. 

"O, how pretty I look, " said she; "just like a little cat! _Ain't_ Icunning?"

But nobody could pause to attend to Prudy, though she chatted very fast, without commas or periods, and held up to view a large wax doll which"would be alive if it could talk. " They all had gifts as well as Prudy, and wished to talk rather than to listen. They asked questions withoutwaiting for answers, and did not mind interrupting one another, andtalking all at once, like a party of school children. 

All this was hardly polite, it is true; but people are sometimessurprised out of their good manners on Christmas evenings, and must beforgiven for it, as such a good time happens but once a year. 

Percy broke in with an old song, and went through with a whole stanza ofit, although no one listened to a word:--

 "Good luck unto old Christmas, And long life let us sing, For he doeth more good unto the poor Than many a crown�d king. "

"My beautiful books!" cried aunt Madge; "Russia morocco. "

"My writing-desk, --has any one looked at it?" said Mrs. Parlin;"rose-wood, inlaid with brass. "

"My skates!" broke in Susy, at the top of her voice. 

"Hush!" screamed cousin Percy; "won't anybody please notice my drum? Ifyou won't look, then look out for a drum in each ear!"

And as nobody would look or pay the slightest attention, they all had tohear "Dixie" pounded out in true martial style, till they held on totheir ears. 

"Rattlety bang!" went the drum. "Tweet, tweet, " whistled the littlemusical instruments which the children were blowing. 

"Have pity on us!" cried aunt Madge; "I am bewildered; my head isfloating like a Chinese garden. "

"Order!" shouted Mr. Parlin, laughing. 

"O, yes, sir, " said Percy, seizing Susy and whirling her round. "Children, why don't you try to preserve order? My nerves are strung uplike violin-strings! I've got a pound of headache to every ounce ofbrains. Susy Parlin, do try to keep still!"

"Thee needn't pretend it is all Susan, " said grandma Read, smiling. "Thee and little Prudence are the noisiest of the whole!"

In fact, they raised such a din, that after a while poor grandma Readsmoothed the Quaker cap over her smiling face, and stole off into herown chamber, where she could "settle down into quietness. " Much noisealways confused grandma Read. 

But in a very few moments, when the excitement began to die out, therewas a season of overwhelming gratitude. Everybody had to thank everybodyelse; and Mr. Parlin, who had a beautiful dressing-gown to be gratefulfor, nevertheless found time to tell Susy, over and over again, howdelighted he was with her book-mark, made, by her own fingers, of threewide strips of velvet ribbon; on the ends of which were fastened across, a star, and an anchor, of card-board. 

"Papa, one ribbon is to keep your place in the Old Testament, " saidSusy; "one is to stay in the middle, at the births and marriages; andthe other one is for our chapter in the New Testament, you know. "

"I think my lamp-mat is very pretty, " said aunt Madge, kissing Susy;"every bit as pretty as if Prudy hadn't 'been and told. '"

Prudy had bought a shawl-pin for her mother, a fierce little woodensoldier for aunt Madge, and something for everybody else but Susy. Notthat she forgot Susy. O, no! but one's money does not always hold out, even at Christmas time. 

"Why, " said Mr. Parlin, "what is this sticking fast to the sole of mynew slipper? Molasses candy, I do believe. "

"Yes sir; that's for Susy, " cried Prudy, suddenly remembering how shehad tucked it in at the last moment, when she could not stop to find anywrapping-paper. "It isn't so big as it was, but it's the biggest piece Ihad in this world. I saved it last night. Susy likes 'lasses candy, andI couldn't think of nothin' else. "

It was a wonder that Prudy's candy had not spoiled some of the nicepresents. 

Susy received several pretty things; and though she did not talk quiteso much as Prudy, she was just as happy. For one thing, she had what shehad not dreamed was possible for a little girl--a bottle of otto ofrose; "just like a young lady. "

This was a real delight to Susy: but Prudy, sniffing at it, said, coolly, "O, ho! it smells 's if it didn't cost more'n a cent! 'Tisn'thalf so sweet as pep'mint!"

Before Dotty could be put to bed, she had contrived to break severaltoys, all of which happened to be Susy's--a sugar temple, a glasspitcher, and a small vase. 

This was an evening long to be remembered; but the most remarkable eventof all was to come. 

"Susy, my daughter, " said Mr. Parlin, "have you been wondering why youdon't see a present from me?"

Susy blushed. She had certainly expected something handsome this yearfrom her father. 

"I haven't forgotten you, my dear; but the present I have chosenwouldn't sit very well on the shoulders of such a little fellow as SantaClaus. "

Percy laughed. "Wouldn't it have been a load, uncle?"

"Hush!" whispered aunt Madge; "she isn't to know till morning. "

"But, papa, " said Susy, her eyes shining with excitement, "why couldn'tyou bring it in here now?"

"It is better off out of doors. Indeed, to tell the truth, my child, itis hardly suitable for the parlor. "

"Now, Miss Susy, " said Percy, measuring off his words on the tips of hisfingers, "I'm authorized to tell you it's something you mustn't take inyour lap, mustn't hang on a nail; if you do, you'll lose it. I'm sure'twill please you, Susy, because it's a mute, and can't speak. You--"

"O, hush talking about dumb people! I shouldn't think you'd make sportof Freddy Jackson! If _you_ was a little _deaf-and-dumber_ than you arenow, I'd like you better!

"O, dear, dear!" cried she, dancing about the room; "what can it be? Ican't wait!"

"Only think; all night before I'll know, " thought she, as she touchedher pillow. "O, Prudy, to-morrow morning! Only think of to-morrowmorning I All my other presents are just nothing at all. Anything is_so_ much nicer when you don't know what it is!"

CHAPTER IV. 

SUSY'S WINGS. 

Susy awoke next morning very much surprised to find the sun so high. Prudy was lying beside her, talking to herself. 

"I don't feel very well, " said the child; "but I'm pleasant; I mean tobe good all day. "

"Why didn't you speak to me?" cried Susy, springing out of bed, "whenyou knew how I couldn't wait to see my present?"

"I would have woke you up, Susy, but I ain't well; I'm sick in myknees. "

And Prudy limped about the room to show her sister how lame she was. But Susy was in too great a hurry to pay much attention to her, or tohelp her dress. 

"Good morning, papa!" she exclaimed, the moment she entered the parlor;"now may I see the present?"

"Do you suppose you could wait till after breakfast, Susy?"

Aunt Madge smiled as she looked at the little eager face. 

"I see you are going on with your lessons, " said she. 

"What lessons, auntie? Why, it is the holidays!"

"Lessons in patience, my dear. Isn't something always happening whichyou have to be patient about?"

Susy thought of Prudy's habit of disclosing secrets, Dotty's trying wayof destroying playthings; and now this long delay about her present. Shebegan to think there were a great many vexations in the world, and thatshe bore them remarkably well for such a little girl. 

"Yes, thee must let patience have her perfect work, Susan, " said grandmaRead, after the "silent blessing" had been asked at the table. 

"Mayn't I go, too?" said Prudy, when she saw her father, her auntie, andSusy leaving the house just after breakfast. 

And she went, as a matter of course; but the pavements were a littleslippery from sleet; and Prudy, who was never a famous walker, had asmuch as she could do, even with the help of her father's hand, to keepfrom falling. 

"Why, Prudy, " said Mr. Parlin, "what ails you this morning? You limp somuch that I believe you need crutches. "

"I'm sick in my knee, " replied Prudy, delighted to see that her lamenesswas observed. "If _you_ had my knee, and it hurt, you'd know how itfeels!"

By this time they had reached a livery stable; and, to Susy's surprise, her father stopped short, and said to a man who stood by the door, "Mr. Hill, my daughter has come to look at her pony. "

Prudy was in a great fright at sight of so many horses, and needed allher auntie's attention; but Susy had no fear, and Mr. Parlin led heralong to a stall where stood a beautiful black pony, as gentle-lookingas a Newfoundland dog. 

"How do you like him, Susy? Stroke his face, and talk to him. "

"But, O, papa, you don't mean, you can't mean, he's my very own! A wholepony all to myself!"

"See what you think of his saddle, miss, " said Mr. Hill, laughing atSusy's eagerness; and he led pony out, and threw over his back ahandsome side-saddle. 

"Why, it seems as if I could just jump on without anybody touching me, "cried Susy. 

"Not afraid a bit?" said Mr. Hill, as Mr. Parlin seated Susy in thesaddle, and gave her the reins. "Ponies throw people, sometimes. "

"O, but my papa would never give me a bad pony, " answered Susy, withperfect confidence. 

Mr. Hill laughed again. He was a rough man; but he thought a child'sfaith in a parent was a beautiful thing. 

He did not know many passages of Scripture, but thought he had readsomewhere, "And if he ask bread, will he give him a stone?" No; fathersare glad to give their "best gifts, " and the little ones trust them. 

"It's like sailing in a boat, " cried Susy, riding back and forth aboutthe yard in great excitement; "why, it's just as easy as the swing inthe oilnut-tree at grandma Parlin's! O, papa, to think I should forgetto thank you!"

But perhaps Mr. Parlin regarded glowing cheeks and shining eyes as thevery best of thanks. 

Prudy thought the pony a beautiful "baby horse;" wanted to ride, anddidn't want to; was afraid, and wasn't afraid, and, as her father said, "had as many minds as some politicians who are said to 'stand on thefence. '" By and by, after some coaxing, the timid little thing consentedto sit behind Susy, and cling round her waist, if her father would walkbeside her to make sure she didn't fall off. In this way they wenthome. 

"I like to sit so I can hug my sister, while she drives the horse, " saidPrudy; "besides, it hurts me to walk. "

Mr. Parlin and aunt Madge smiled at the child's speeches, but gave nomore heed to this lameness of which she complained, than they did to anyof the rest of her little freaks. 

Prudy liked to be pitied for every small hurt; and when Susy had a sorethroat, and wore a compress, she looked upon her with envy, and felt italmost as a personal slight that _her_ throat could not be wrapped in acompress too. 

On their way they met "lame Jessie, " a little girl with crooked spineand very high shoulders, who hobbled along on crutches. 

"She's lamer than me, " said Prudy. "Good morning, Jessie. "

"I know what I've thought of, " said Susy, who could talk of nothingwhich was not in some way connected with her pony. "I'm going to givethat girl some rides. How happy she will be, poor little Jessie!"

"When you get your sleigh, " said Mr. Parlin. 

"My sleigh, papa? How many more presents are coming?"

"It is hard to tell, Susy; one gift makes way for another, you see. First comes the pony; but how can he live without a stable, and a groomto feed him? Then what is a pony worth without a saddle? And, as onedoes not wish always to ride pony-back, a sleigh is the next thing. "

"But, papa, you know in the summer!"

"Yes, my dear, in the summer, if we all live, there must be a lightcarriage made on purpose for you. "

"There is one thing more that pony needs, " said aunt Madge, stroking hiseyebrows, "and that is, a name. "

"O, I never thought of that, " said Susy; "help me find a name, auntie. "

"Let me think. I should call him something good and pleasant. Think ofsomething good and pleasant Think of something you like very much. "

"O, Frosted Cake, " cried Prudy: "wouldn't that be pleasant? Susy lovesthat. "

"I should like to name him for the American Eagle, " said Susy, who hadheard some patriotic speeches from her cousin Percy; "only you couldn'tpet that name, could you?"

"You might call him Don Carlos, or Don Pedro, " suggested Mr. Parlin. 

"No, papa; only think of Donny: that is like Donkey! You haven't anylong ears, _have_ you, pony? If you had, I'd call you Little Pitcher, for 'little pitchers have great ears. ' That makes me think of Mr. Allen, auntie. How big his ears are, you know? _Is_ it because his teacherpulled them so?"

"O, call him 'Gustus, '" cried Prudy. 

"But that would soon be Gusty, " said aunt Madge, "and would sound toomuch like the east wind. "

"Dear me, " sighed Susy; "who'd ever think it was such hard work to findnames?"

"O, look, " said Prudy, as they passed a jaded old horse; "there is apony just exactly like this! Only it's twice as big, you know, and not a_bit_ such a color!"

"Well, there, Prudy, " said Susy, disdainfully, "I thought, when youbegan to speak, you was going to tell something! Why don't you wait tillyou have something to say? Please give me a list of names, papa. "

"There's Speedwell, Lightfoot, Zephyr, Prince, Will-o'-the-wisp--"

"I might call him Wispy, " broke in Susy. "Zephyr is good, only it makesyou think of worsteds. "

"Now, listen, " said aunt Madge; "you might call him Elephant, just forsport, because he is in reality so very little. Or, on the other hand, you might find the least speck of a name, like Firefly, or Midge. "

"I don't like any of those, " replied Susy, still dissatisfied. 

"I see, " said aunt Madge, laughing, "nothing will please you but a greatname. What say to Pegasus, a flying horse, which poets are said to ride?It might be shortened to Peggy. "

"Now, auntie, you wouldn't have this beautiful pony called Peggy; youknow you wouldn't! the one my father bought on purpose for me! But wasthere such a horse, truly?"

"O, no; there is an old fable, which, as we say, is 'as true now as itever was, ' of a glorious creature with wings, and whoever mounts himgets a flying ride into the clouds. But the trouble is to catch him!"

"O, I wish my pony could fly, " said Susy, gazing dreamily at his blackmane and sleek sides. "The first place I'd go to would be the moon; andthere I'd stay till I built a castle as big as a city. I'd come homeevery night, so mother wouldn't be frightened, and fly up in themorning, and--and--"

"See here, " said Prudy, who had for some time been trying to speak;"call him _Wings_!"

"So I will, " answered Susy, quickly, "and I'll make believe he flies inthe air like a bird. Now, auntie, what do you think of Wings?"

"Odd enough, I'm sure, my dear. "

"Well, _I_ like it, " returned Susy, with a positive shake of the head. "It's of no use to keep fussing so long over a name, and I feel a greatdeal easier, now I've made up my mind! Dear little Wings, you prick upyour ears, and I know you like it, too. I wish you had a soul, so youcould be taken to church, and christened like a baby. "

Just here Susy was startled by a sudden laugh from cousin Percy, whohad for some moments been walking behind the pony unobserved. 

"You're enough to frighten any one to death, " she screamed, "creepingabout like a cat. "

Susy had a foolish dread of being laughed at. 

"Creeping like a cat, " echoed Percy, "while you creep like a snail! Whatwill you take for your pony, that can fly in the air like a bird, butcan't walk on the ground any better than a goose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, " said Susy, quite excited: "ifyou want to see anybody ride fast, just look here. " And she started thepony at full speed, regardless of Prudy, who was so frightened, that sheseized poor Wings by his flowing mane, and called out for her sister tostop. But Susy dashed on at a flying pace, and Percy cried after her, "O, Susy, cousin Susy, what think of your Christmas present? Will youremember not to eat it, and not to hang it on a nail? Susy, Susy?"

There was hardly a happier child living than Susy, during thosedelightful holidays. She said to herself, sometimes, that this was sucha beautiful world, she couldn't think of a single thing that wasn't assplendid as it could be. 

CHAPTER V. 

PRUDY'S TROUBLE. 

The happy days flew by. The Old Year was worn out, and the New Yearstepped in fresh and youthful. Susy found her little sleigh a verycomfortable affair; and so, I think, did "lame Jessie. " When her fatherfound that Susy had really chosen for her pony the name of Wings, heordered a beautiful picture of the Flying Horse to be painted on thedashboard of the sleigh. 

Susy was delighted with this, and her vivid fancy took wings at once, and flew away to the other end of the world, where her aunt Madge toldher the fountain of Pirene was said to gush out of a hill-side. 

"Only think, " said she to Flossy; "it was a woman once, that fountainwas; but she poured her life all out into tears, crying because her sonwas killed. So the fountain is made of tears!"

"Bitter and salt, then, " said Florence, threading her needle. 

"No, indeed; just as sweet and nice as any water. Pegasus loved it; andthere was a beautiful young man, his name was Bel--Bel--well, I declare, I've forgotten, --no, 'twas Bellerophon; and he had a bridle, and wanteda horse. O, do you know this horse was white, with silvery wings, wildas a hawk; and, once in a while, he would fold up his wings, and trotround on the mountain!"

Florence yawned, and waxed her thread. 

"O, it was a splendid bridle, this man had, made of gold; and Iforgot--the mountain the horse trotted round on was called Helicon. Andthe man mounted him, and went up, up, till they were nothing but specksin the sky. "

"A likely story, " said Florence; "there, you've told enough! I don'twant to hear any more such nonsense. "

"Well, if you don't want to hear about the monster they killed, youneedn't; that's all I can say; but the young man loved that horse; andhe kissed him, too, he was so splendid!"

"Kiss a horse!" Flossy looked very, much disgusted. 

"Why, I've kissed my pony a great many times, " said Susy, bravely, "right between his eyes; and he almost kisses me. He wants to say, 'Ilove you. ' I can see it in his eyes. "

By this time Flossy had finished her doll's garment, and, putting it onthe little thing's shoulders, held up the doll to be admired. 

"I think her opera cloak is very 'bewitching, ' don't you, Susy? It istrimmed with ermine, because she is a queen, and is going to the opera. "

"It looks well enough, " said Susy, indifferently, "but it isn't ermine;it's only white cat's fur, with black spots sewed on, "

"Of course it isn't real ermine!" replied Florence; "but I play that itis, and it's just as well. "

"But you know all the while it's a make-believe. She hasn't any moresense than a stick of wood, either; and I don't see any sport in playingwith dolls. "

"And I don't see any sense in fairy stories, " retorted Flossy. "Do youknow what Percy says about you? He says your head is as full of airynotions as a dandelion top. I love Queen Mab as if she was my ownsister, " continued Flossy, in a pettish tone. "You know I do, Susy. Ialways thought, if anything should happen to Queen Mab, and I lost her, I should certainly dress in mourning; now you needn't laugh. "

"O, I can't help laughing, when anybody makes such a fuss over a doll, "replied Susy, with a curl of the lip. "Anything that isn't alive, andhasn't any sense, and don't care for you! I like canary birds, andbabies, and ponies, and that's enough to like. "

"Well, now, that's so funny!" said Florence, twitching the folds ofQueen Mab's dress into place; "for the very reason I like my doll, isbecause she _isn't_ alive. I wouldn't have been you, Susy Parlin, whenyou had your last canary bird, and let him choke to death. "

"O, no, Flossy, I didn't let him choke: I forgot to put any seed in thebottle, and he stuck his head in so deep, that he smothered to death. "

"I don't know but smothering is as bad as choking, " said Florence; "andnow your new bird will be sure to come to some bad end. "

"You're always saying hateful things, " exclaimed Susy, a good dealvexed. "I like Grace Clifford ten times as well, for she's a great dealmore lady-like. "

"Well, I suppose I can go home, " said Florence, with a rising color;"you're such a perfect lady that I can't get along with you. "

"O, dear, " thought poor Susy, "what does ail my tongue? Here this verymorning I said in my prayer, that I meant to be good and patient. "

Florence began to put on her cloak. 

"Cousin Flossy, " said Susy, in a hesitating voice, "I wish you wouldn'tgo. I didn't mean to tell that I liked Gracie best; but it's the realhonest truth, and if I should take it back, 'twould be a lie. "

This was not making matters much better. Florence put on her hood, andtied it with a twitch. 

"But I like _you_ ever so much, Flossy; now, you know I do. You'rehateful sometimes; but so am I; and I can't tell which is thehatefulest. "

Here Flossy, who was as fickle as the wind, laughed merrily, took offher hood and cloak, and danced about the room in high spirits. 

"Yes, " said she, "I'll stay just on purpose to plague you!"

But good humor had been restored on both sides, and the little girlswere soon talking together, as freely as if nothing had happened. 

"Just come out in the kitchen, " said Susy, "and you shall see me wash mybird. "

"Why, I thought birds washed themselves, " replied Florence, followingher cousin with some surprise. 

"They do, but Dandy won't; it's all in the world I have against Dandy;he isn't a cold-water bird. "

Grandma Read stood by the kitchen table, clear-starching one of hercaps--a piece of work which she always performed with her own hands. She moved one side to make room for Susy's bird-cage, but said she didnot approve of washing canaries; she thought it must be a dangerousexperiment. 

"If he needed a bath, he would take it himself, Susan. Little birds knowwhat is best for them by instinct, thee may depend upon it. "

"But my birdie gay ought to be clean, " persisted Susy, who was oftenvery positive. "Mrs. Mason says so--the lady that gave him to me. I toldher he wouldn't bathe, and she said then I must bathe him. "

Susy went to the range, and, dipping some hot water from the boiler, cooled it with fresh water, till she found, by putting in her fingers, that it was of a proper temperature, according to her own judgment. Thenshe plunged the timid little canary into the bowl, in spite of hisfluttering. Such a wee young thing as he was too! He seemed to be afraidof the water, and struggled against it with all his small strength. 

"O, Dandy, darling, " said Susy, in a cooing voice, as if she weretalking to a baby; "be a little man, Dandy; hold up his head, and letSusy wash it all cleany! O, he's Susie's birdie gay!--What makes himroll up his eyes?"

"Take him out quick, Susan, " said grandma Read; "he will strangle. "

A few seconds more and all would have been over with birdie gay. Hecurled down very languidly on the floor of the cage, and seemed to wishto be let alone. 

"He acts so every morning when I bathe him, " said Susy, who would notgive up the point; "but Mrs. Mason told me to do it! Dotty always criedwhen she was washed, till she was ever so old. "

"I think, " said Mrs. Parlin, who had just entered the kitchen, "I mustask Mrs. Mason if she is very sure it is proper to treat little birds inthat way. "

"But look, mamma; here he is, shaking out his feathers, all bright andhappy again. O, you cunning little Dandy, now we'll hang you up in thesun to dry. See him hop on one foot; that is just to make me laugh. "

"But _I_ hop on one foot, too, " said little Prudy, "and you don't laughat me. "

"This is a droll little head for fancies, " said Mrs. Parlin, pattingPrudy's curls, and looking at grandma Read. "Do you know, mother, thatfor several days she has made believe she was lame Jessie, and hashobbled about whenever she could think of it. "

"Now you mustn't laugh, " said Prudy, looking up with a grieved face; Ican't never help hopping; I _have_ to hop. My knee was so sick, I criedlast night, and I was just as _wide-awakeful_!"

"Ain't thee afraid the child has been hurt in some way, my daughter?"said grandma Read. 

"O, no, mother, " said Mrs. Parlin, smiling, as Prudy limped out of theroom. "I have examined her knee, and there is nothing the matter withit. She is only imitating that lame child. You know Prudy has all sortsof whims. Don't you know how she has wanted us to call her Jessiesometimes?"

"Why, no, indeed, grandma, she isn't lame, " said Susy, laughing. "Sometimes she will run about the room as well as I do, and then, in afew minutes, when she thinks of it, she will limp and take hold ofchairs. Mother, isn't it just the same as a wrong story for Prudy to actthat way? If I did so, you'd punish me; now, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know what to think about it, " said Mrs. Parlin, gravely. "Sometimes I am afraid Prudy is really becoming naughty and deceitful. Ithought once it was only her funny way of playing; but she is gettingold enough now to know the difference between truth and falsehood. "

There was an anxious look on Mrs. Parlin's face. She was a faithfulmother, and watched her children's conduct with the tenderest care. 

But this lameness of which little Prudy complained, was something morethan play; it was a sad truth, as the family learned very soon. Insteadof walking properly when her mother bade her do so, the poor child criedbitterly, said it hurt her, and she was so tired she wished they wouldlet her lie on the sofa, and never get up. At times she seemed better;and when everybody thought she was quite well, suddenly the pain andweakness would come again, and she could only limp, or walk by catchinghold of chairs. 

At last her father called in a physician. 

"How long has this child been lame?" said he. 

"A month or more. "

The doctor looked grave. "Has she ever had an injury, Mr. Parlin, suchas slipping on the ice, or falling down stairs?"

"No, sir, " replied Mr. Parlin, "I believe not. "

"Not a serious injury that I know of, " said Mrs. Parlin, passing herhand across her forehead, and trying to remember. "No, I think Prudy hasnever had a _bad_ fall, though she is always meeting with slightaccidents. "

"O, mamma, " said Susy, who had begged to stay in the room, "she did havea fall: don't you know, Christmas day, ever so long ago, how she wentrolling down stairs with her little chair in her arms, and wokeeverybody up?"

The doctor caught at Susy's words. 

"With her little chair in her arms, my dear? And did she cry as if shewas hurt?"

"Yes, sir; she said the _prongs_ of the chair stuck into her side. "

"It hurt me dreffully, " said Prudy, who had until now forgotten allabout it. "Susy spoke so quick, and said I was a little snail; and thenI rolled over and over, and down I went. "

The doctor almost smiled at these words, lisped out in such a plaintivevoice, as if Prudy could not think of that fall even now, withoutpitying herself very much. 

"Just let me see you stand up, little daughter, " said he; for Prudy waslying on the sofa. 

But it hurt her to bear her weight on her feet. 

She said, "One foot, the '_lame-knee-foot_, ' came down so long, it_more_ than touched the floor. "

The doctor looked sober. The foot did drag indeed. The trouble was notin her knee, but in her hip, which had really been injured when she felldown stairs, and the "prongs" of the chair were forced against it. 

It seemed to Mrs. Parlin strange that Prudy had never complained of anypain in her side; but the doctor said it was very common for people tosuffer from hip-disease, and seem to have only a lame knee. 

"Hip-disease!" When Mrs. Parlin heard these words, she grew so dizzy, that it was all she could do to keep from fainting. It came over her ina moment, the thought of what her little daughter would have tosuffer--days and nights of pain, and perhaps a whole lifetime oflameness. She had often heard of hip-disease, and was aware that it is avery serious thing. 

Do you know, she would gladly have changed places with Prudy, wouldgladly have borne all the child must suffer, if by that means she couldhave saved her? This is the feeling which mothers have when any troublecomes upon their children; but the little ones, with their simple minds, cannot understand it. 

CHAPTER VI. 

ROSY FRANCES EASTMAN MARY. 

Prudy had enjoyed a great many rides in Susy's beautiful sleigh; but nowthe doctor forbade her going out, except for very short distances, andeven then, he said, she must sit in her mother's lap. He wanted her tolie down nearly all the time, and keep very quiet. 

At first, Mrs. Parlin wondered how it would be possible to keep such arestless child quiet; but she found, as time passed, and the diseasemade progress, that poor little Prudy was only too glad to lie still. Every motion seemed to hurt her, and sometimes she cried if any oneeven jarred the sofa suddenly. 

These were dark days for everybody in the house. Susy, who wasthoughtful beyond her years, suffered terribly from anxiety about herlittle sister. More than that, she suffered from remorse. 

"O, grandma Read, " said she one evening, as she sat looking up at thesolemn, shining stars, with overflowing eyes--"O, grandma!" The wordscame from the depths of a troubled heart. "I may live to be real old;but I never shall be happy again! I can't, for, if it hadn't been forme? Prudy would be running round the house as well as ever!"

Mrs. Read had a gentle, soothing voice. She could comfort Susy whenanybody could. Now she tried to set her heart at rest by saying that thedoctor gave a great deal of hope. He could not promise a certain cure, but he felt great faith in a new kind of splint which he was using forPrudy's hip. 

"O, grandma, it may be, and then, again, it may not be, " sobbed poorSusy; "we can't tell what God will think best; but anyhow, it was I thatdid it. "

"But, Susan, thee must think how innocent thee was of any wrong motive. Thee did not get angry, and push thy little sister, thee knows theedidn't, Susan! Thee was only in a hurry, and rather thoughtless. Thebest of us often do very foolish things, and cause much mischief; butthee'll find it isn't best to grieve over these mistakes. Why, my dearlittle Susan, I have lived eight years to thy one, and if I should sitdown now and drop a tear for every blunder I have made, I don't know butI could almost make a fountain of myself, like that woman thee tellsabout in the fairy story. "

"The fountain of Pirene that Pegasus loved, " said Susy; "that was thename of it. Why, grandma, I never should have thought of your sayingsuch a queer thing as that! Why, it seems as if you always did justright, and thought it all over before you did it. Do _you_ ever dowrong? How funny!"

Mrs. Read smiled sadly. She was not an angel yet; so I suppose she didwrong once in a while. 

"Now, grandma, I want to ask you one question, real sober and honest. You know it was so dark that morning in the middle of the night, when wewere going down the back stairs? Now, if I'd made a great deal worsemistake than calling Prudy a snail, --if I'd pushed her real hard, andshe had fallen faster, --O, I can't bear to think! I mean, if thechair-prongs had hit her head, grandma--and--killed her! What would theyhave done to _me_? I thought about it last night, so I couldn't go tosleep for the longest while! I heard the clock _strike_ once while I wasawake there in bed! Would they have put me in the lock-up, grandma, andthen hung me for murder?"

"My dear child, no, indeed! How came such horrible ideas in thy tenderlittle brain? It is too dreadful to think about; but, even if thy littlesister _had_ died, Susan, thee would have been no more to blame thanthee is now, and a great, great deal more to be pitied. "

Susy sat for a long while gazing out of the window; but the stars didnot wink so solemnly; the moon looked friendly once more. Susy wasdrinking in her grandmother's words of comfort. The look of sadness wasdisappearing from the young face, and smiles began to play about thecorners of her mouth. 

"Well, " said she, starting up briskly, "I'm glad I wasn't so veryterribly wicked! I wish I'd been somewhere else, when I stood on thoseback-stairs, in the middle of the night; but what's the use? I'm notgoing to think any more about it, grandma; for if I should think till myhead was all twisted up in a knot, what good would it do? It wouldn'thelp Prudy any; would it, grandma?"

"No, dear, " said the mild, soothing voice again; "don't think, I beg ofthee; but if thee wants to know what would do Prudence good, I will tellthee: try thy best to amuse her. She has to lie day after day andsuffer. It is very hard for a little girl that loves to play, and can'tread, and doesn't know how to pass the time; don't thee think so, Susan?"

It was certainly hard. Prudy's round rosy face began to grow pale; and, instead of laughing and singing half the time, she would now lie and cryfrom pain, or because she really did not know what else to do withherself. 

It was worst at night. Hour after hour, she would lie awake, and listento the ticking of the clock. Susy thought it a pitiable case, when_she_, heard the clock strike _once_; but little Prudy heard it strikeagain and again. How strangely it pounded out the strokes in the night!What a dreary sound it was, pealing through the silence! The echoesanswered with a shudder. Then, when Prudy had counted one, two, three, four, and the clock had no more to say at that time, it began to tickagain: "Prudy's sick! Prudy's sick! O, dear me! O, dear me!"

Prudy could hardly believe it was the same clock she saw in the daytime. She wondered if it felt lonesome in the night, and had the blues; orwhat _could_ ail it! The poor little girl wanted somebody to speak to inthese long, long hours. She did not sleep with Susy, but in a newcot-bed of her own, in aunt Madge's room; for, dearly as she loved tolie close to any one she loved, she begged now to sleep alone, "sonobody could hit her, or move her, or joggle her. "

It was a great comfort to have aunt Madge so near. If it had been Susyinstead, Prudy would have had no company but the sound of her breathing. It was of no use to try to wake Susy in the dead of night. Pricking herwith pins would startle her, but she never knew anything even after shewas startled. All she could do was to stare about her, cry, and act verycross, and then--go to sleep again. 

But with aunt Madge it was quite different. She slept like a cat, withone eye open. Perhaps the reason she did not sleep more soundly, was, that she felt a care of little Prudy. No matter when Prudy spoke to her, aunt Madge always answered. She did not say, "O, dear, you've startledme out of a delicious nap!" She said, "Well, darling, what do you want?"Prudy generally wanted to know when it would be morning? When would thesteamboat whistle? What made it stay dark so long? She wanted a drink ofwater, and _always_ wanted a story. 

If aunt Madge had forgotten to provide a glass of water, she put on herslippers, lighted the little handled lamp, and stole softly down stairsto the pail, which Norah always pumped full of well-water the last thingin the evening. 

Or, if Prudy fancied it would console her to have a peep at herbeautiful doll which "would be alive if it could speak, " why, downstairs went auntie again to search out the spot where Susy had probablyleft it when "she took it to show to some children. "

The many, many times that kind young lady crept shivering down stairs tohumor Prudy's whims! Prudy could not have counted the times; and you maybe sure aunt Madge never _would_. 

Then the stories, both sensible and silly, which Prudy teased for, andalways got! Aunt Madge poured them forth like water into the _sieve_ ofPrudy's mind, which could not hold stories any better than secrets. Nomatter how many she told, Prudy insisted that she wanted "one more, " andthe "same one over again. "

It touched Susy to the heart to see how much her little sistersuffered, and she spent a great deal of time at first in trying to amuseher. Aunt Madge told stories in the night; but Susy told them in thedaytime, till, as she expressed it, her "tongue ached. " She cut outpaper dolls when she wanted to read, and played go visiting, or dressedrag babies, when she longed to be out of doors. But while the noveltylasted, she was quite a Florence Nightingale. 

Her Wednesday and Saturday after-noons were no longer her own. BeforePrudy's lameness, Susy had used her new skates a great deal, and couldnow skim over the ice quite gracefully, for a little girl of her age. The reason she learned to skate so well, was because she was fearless. Most children tremble when they try to stand on the ice, and for thatvery reason are nearly sure to fall; but Susy did not tremble in theface of danger: she had a strong will of her own, and never expected tofail in anything she undertook. 

She had spent half of her short life out of doors, and almost consideredit lost time when she was obliged to stay in the house for the rain. 

Mrs. Parlin kept saying it was high time for her eldest daughter tobegin to be womanly, and do long stints with her needle: she could notsew as well now as she sewed two years ago. 

But Mr. Parlin laughed at his wife's anxiety, and said he loved Susy'sred cheeks; he didn't care if she grew as brown as an Indian. She wasnever rude or coarse, he thought; and she would be womanly enough one ofthese days, he was quite sure. 

"Anything, " said Mr. Parlin, "but these _womanly_ little girls, such asI have seen sitting in a row, sewing seams, without animation enough totear rents in their own dresses! If Susy loves birds, and flowers, andsnowbanks, I am thankful, and perfectly willing she should have plentyof them for playthings. "

Then, when Mrs. Parlin smiled mischievously, and said, "I should like toknow what sort of a wild Arab you would make out of a little girl, " Mr. Parlin answered triumphantly, --"Look at my sister Margaret! I broughther up my own self! I always took her out in the woods with me, gunningand trouting. I taught her how to skate when she was a mere baby. Ioften said she was all the brother I had in the world! She can remembernow how I used to wrap her in shawls, and prop her up on the woodpile, while I chopped wood. "

"And how you hired her to drop ears of corn for you into thecorn-sheller; and how, one day, her fingers were so benumbed, that oneof them was clipped off before she knew it!"

"Well, so it was, that is true; but only the tip of it. Active childrenwill meet with accidents. She was a regular little fly-away, and wouldsooner climb a tree or a ladder any time, than walk on solid ground. _Now_ look at her!"

And Mr. Parlin repeated the words, "Now look at her, " as if he was surehis wife must confess that she was a remarkable person. 

Mrs. Parlin said, if Susy should ever become half as excellent andcharming as Miss Margaret Parlin, she should be perfectly satisfied, forher part. 

Thus Susy was allowed to romp to her heart's content; "fairly ran wild, "as aunt Eastman declared, with a frown of disapproval. She gathered wildroses, and wore them in her cheeks, the very best place in the worldfor roses. She drank in sunshine with the fresh air of heaven, just asthe flowers do, and thrived on it. 

But there was one objection to this out-of-doors life: Susy did not loveto stay in the house. Ainu days and evenings, to be sure, she madeherself very happy with reading, for she loved to read, particularlyfairy books, and Rollo's Travels. 

But now, just as she had learned to skate on the basin with other littlegirls and young ladies, and could drive Wings anywhere and everywhereshe pleased, it was a sore trial to give up these amusements for thesake of spending more hours with poor little Prudy. She was veryself-denying at first, but it grew to be an "old story. " She found itwas not only pony and skates she must give up, but even her preciousreading, for Prudy was jealous of books, and did not like to have Susytouch them. She thought Susy was lost to her when she opened a book, andmight as well not be in the house, for she never heard a word thatanybody said. 

Now I know just what you will think: "O, I would have given up a greatdeal more than ponies and books for _my_ dear little sister! I wouldhave told her stories, and never have complained that my 'tongue ached. 'It would not have wearied me to do anything and everything for such apatient sufferer as little Prudy!"

But now I shall be obliged to confess one thing, which I would havegladly concealed. 

Prudy was not always patient. Some sweet little children become almostlike the angels when sickness is laid upon them; but Prudy had been sucha healthy, active child, that the change to perfect quiet wasexceedingly tiresome. She was young, too, --too young to reason about theuses of suffering. She only knew she was dreadfully afflicted, andthought everybody ought to amuse her. 

"O, dear me!" said Susy, sometimes, "I just believe the more anybodydoes for Prudy, the more she expects. "

Now this was really the case. When Prudy first began to lie upon thesofa, everybody pitied her, and tried to say and do funny things, inorder to take up her attention. It was not possible to keep on giving somuch time to her; but Prudy expected it. She would lie very pleasant andhappy for hours at a time, counting the things in the room, talking toherself, or humming little tunes; and then, again, everything would gowrong. Her playthings would keep falling to the floor, and, as she couldnot stoop at all, some one must come and pick them up that very minute, or they "didn't pity her a bit. "

Every once in a while, she declared her knee was "broken in seven newplaces, " and the doctor must come and take off the splint. She didn'twant such a hard thing "right on there;" she wanted it "right off. "

Her mother told her she must try to be patient, and be one of God'slittle girls. "But, mamma, " said Prudy, "does God love me any? I shouldthink, if he loved me, he'd be sorrier I was sick, and get me well. "

Then, sometimes, when she had been more fretful than usual, she wouldclose her eyes, and her mother would hear her say, in a low voice, --

"O, God, I didn't mean to. It's my _knee_ that's cross!"

Upon the whole, I think Prudy was as patient as most children of her agewould have been under the same trial. Her father and mother, who had themost care of her, did not wonder in the least that her poor littlenerves got tired out sometimes. 

While Susy was at school, Prudy had a long time to think what she wantedher to do when she should come home. She would lie and watch the clock, for she had learned to tell the time quite well; and when the hour drewnear for Susy to come, she moved her head on the pillow, and twisted herfingers together nervously. 

If Susy was in good season, Prudy put up her little mouth for a kiss, and said, --

"O, how I do love you, Susy! Ain't I your dear little sister? Well, won't you make me a lady on the slate?"

Susy's ladies had no necks, and their heads were driven down on theirshoulders, as if they were going to be packed into their chests; but, such as they were, Prudy wanted them over and over again. 

But if Susy stopped to slide, or to play by the way, she would findlittle Prudy in tears, and hear her say, "O, what made you? Naughty, naughty old Susy! I'm goin' to die, and go to God's house, and thenyou'll be sorry you didn't 'tend to your little sister. "

Susy could never bear to hear Prudy talk about going to God's house. Herconscience pricked her when she saw that the poor child was grieved; andshe resolved, every time she was late, that she would never be lateagain. 

Prudy had a great many odd fancies now: among others, she had a fancythat she did not like the name of Prudy. 

"Why; only think, " said she, "you keep a-calling me Prudy, and Prudy, and Prudy. It makes my head ache, to have you say Prudy so much. "

"But, my dear child, " said Mr. Parlin, smiling, "it happens, unfortunately, that Prudy is your name; so I think you will have to tryand bear it as well as you can. "

"But I can't bear it any longer, " said the child, bursting into tears. "Prudy is all lame and sick, and I never shall walk any more while youcall me Prudy, papa. "

Mr. Parlin kissed his little daughters's pale cheek, and said, "Then wewill call you pet names; will that do?"

Prudy smiled with delight. 

"I've thought of a real beautiful, splendid name, " said she. "It is RosyFrances Eastman Mary; ain't it splendid?"

After this announcement, Prudy expected the family would be sure to callher Rosy Frances Eastman Mary; and, indeed, they were quite willing toplease her, whenever they could remember the name. They all supposed itwas a fancy she would forget in a day or two; but, instead of that, sheclung to it more and more fondly. If any one offered her an orange, orroasted apple, and said, "Look, Prudy; here is something nice for you, "she would turn her face over to one side on the pillow, and make noreply. If she wanted a thing very much, she would never accept it whenshe was addressed by the obnoxious name of Prudy. Even when her fatherwanted to take her in his arms to rest her, and happened to say, "Prudy, shall I hold you a little while?" she would say, "Who was you a-talkin'to, papa? There isn't any Prudy here!" Then her father had to humblehimself, and ask to be forgiven for being so forgetful. 

The child had a delicate appetite, and her mother tried to tempt it withlittle niceties; but, no matter what pains she took, Prudy relishednothing unless it was given to her as Rosy Frances, the little girl whowas _not_ Prudy. 

"O, here is a glass of lemonade for you, Prudy; made on purpose foryou, " Susy would say; "do drink it!"

"O, dear me, suz, " cried Prudy, with tears falling over her cheeks; "O, Susy, you plague me, and I never done a thing to you! You called mePrudy, and I ain't Prudy, never again! Call me Rosy Frances EastmanMary, and I'll drink the lemonade. "

"You precious little sister, " said Susy, bending over her gently, "you'll forgive me; won't you, darling?"

"I'll try to, " replied Prudy, with a look of meek forbearance, as shesipped the lemonade. 

CHAPTER VII. 

LITTLE TROUBLES. 

Somebody said once to Susy and Flossy, when they were having a frolic in"Prudy's sitting-room, " up stairs, "What happy little things! You don'tknow what trouble is, and never will, till you grow up!"

The little girls preserved a respectful silence, till the lady was outof hearing, and then held an indignant discussion as to the truth ofwhat she had said. It would have been a discussion, I mean, if they hadnot both taken the same side of the question. 

"How she sighed, " said Susy, "just as if she was the _melancholiest_person that ever was!" Susy was famous for the use she made ofadjectives, forming the superlatives just as it happened. 

"Yes, just the way, " responded Flossy. "I'd like to know what everhappened to _her_? Pshaw! She laughed this afternoon, and ate applesfast enough!"

"O, she thinks she must make believe have a dreadful time, because sheis grown up, " said Susy, scornfully. "She's forgot she was ever a littlegirl! I've had troubles; I guess I have! And I know one thing, I shallremember 'em when I grow up, and not say, 'What happy little things!'to children. It's real hateful!"

Little folks have trouble, to be sure. Their hearts are full of it, andrunning over, sometimes; and how can the largest heart that ever beat be_more_ than full, and running over?

Susy had daily trials. They were sent to her because they were good forher. Shadows and night-dews are good for flowers. If the sun had shoneon Susy always, and she had never had any shadows and night dews, shewould have _scorched up_ into a selfish girl. 

One of her trials was Miss Dotty Dimple. Now, she loved Dotty dearly, and considered her funny all over, from the crown of her head to thesoles of her little twinkling feet, which were squeezed into a pair ofgaiters. Dotty loved those gaiters as if they were alive. She had agreat contempt for the slippers she wore in the morning, but it was her"darlin' gaiters, " which she put on in the afternoon, and loved next tofather and mother, and all her best friends. 

When ladies called, she stepped very briskly across the floor, lookingdown at her feet, and tiptoeing about, till the ladies smiled, and said, "O, what sweet little boots!" and then she was perfectly happy. 

Susy was not very wide awake in the morning; but Dotty was stirring assoon as there was a peep of light, and usually stole into Susy's bed tohave a frolic. Nothing but a story would keep her still, and poor Susyoften wondered which was harder, to be used as a football by Dotty, orto tell stories with her eyes shut. 

"O, Dotty Dimple, keep still; can't you? There's a darling, " she wouldplead, longing for another nap; "_don't_ kill me. "

"No, no; me won't kill, " the little one would reply; "'tisn't _pooty_ tokill!"

"O, dear, you little, cunning, darling plague, now hush, and let me goto sleep!"

Then Dotty would plant both feet firmly on Susy's chest, and say, in herteasing little voice, as troublesome as the hum of a mosquito, --

"Won't you tell me 'tory--tell me a 'tory--tell me a 'tory, Susy. "

"Well, what do you want to hear?"

Now, it was natural for Susy to feel cross when she was sleepy. It costher a hard struggle to speak pleasantly, and when she succeeded in doingso, I set it down as one of her greatest victories over herself. TheQuaker motto of her grandmother, "Let patience have her perfect work, "helped her sometimes, when she could wake up enough to remember it. 

"Tell 'bout little yellow gell, " said the voice of the mosquito, overand over again. 

Susy roused herself after the third request, and sleepily asked ifsomething else wouldn't do?

"I had a little nobby-colt. "

"No, no, you _di'n't_, you _di'n't_; grandma had the nobby! Tell yellowgell. "

"O, " sighed Susy, "how can you want to hear that so many, many times?Well, once when I was a little bit of a girl--"

"'Bout's big as me, you _said_, " put in Dotty. 

"O, yes, I did say so once, and I suppose I must tell it so every time, or you'll fuss! Well, I had a yellow dress all striped off in checks--"

"Di'n't it go this way?" said Dotty, smoothing the sheet with her littlehand, "and this way?"

"What? What?" Susy roused herself and rubbed her eyes. "O, yes, it wentin checks; and I was at grandma Parlin's, and Grace--Grace--O, Grace andI went into the pasture where there were a couple of cows, a gray cowand a red cow. "

"Now you must say what _is_ couple, " says Dotty. 

"Then what is couple?"

"Gray cow, " answers Dotty, very gravely. 

"So when the cows saw us coming, they--they--O, they threw up theirheads, and stopped eating grass--in the air. I mean--threw--up--theirheads. " Susy was nearly asleep. 

"Up in the air?"

"Yes, of course, up in the air. (There, I _will_ wake up!) And the graycow began to run towards us, and Grace says to me, 'O, my, she thinksyou're a pumpkin!'"

"You?"

"Yes, me, because my dress was so yellow. I was just as afraid of thecow as I could be. "

"Good cow! _He_ wouldn't hurt!"

"No, the cow was good, and didn't think I was a pumpkin, not the leastspeck. But I was so afraid, that I crept under the bars, and ran home. "

"To grandma's house?"

"Yes; and grandma laughed. "

"Well, where was me?" was the next question, after a pause. 

Then, when the duty of story-telling was performed, Susy would gladlyhave gone back to "climbing the dream-tree;" but no, she must stilllisten to Dotty, though she answered her questions in an absent-mindedway, like a person "hunting for a forgotten dream. "

One morning she was going to ride with her cousin Percy. It had beensome time since she had seen Wings, except in the stable, where shevisited him every day. 

But Dotty had set her heart on a rag-baby which Susy had promised todress, and Prudy was anxious that Susy should play several games ofcheckers with her. 

"O, dear, " said the eldest sister, with the perplexed air of a motherwho has disobedient little ones to manage. "I think I have about as muchas I can bear. The _children_ always make a fuss, just as sure as Iwant to go out. "

The old, impatient spirit was rising; that spirit which it was one ofthe duties of Susy's life to keep under control. 

She went into the bathing-room, and drank off a glass of cold water, andtalked to herself a while, for she considered that the safest way. 

"Have I any right to be cross? Yes, I think I have. Here Dotty woke meup, right in the middle of a dream, and I'm sleepy this minute. ThenPrudy is a little babyish thing, and always was--making a fuss if Iforget to call her Rosy Frances! Yes, I'll be cross, and act just as Iwant to. It's too hard work to keep pleasant; I won't try. "

She walked along to the door, but, by that time, the better spirit wasstruggling to be heard. 

"Now, Susy Parlin, " it said, "you little girl with a pony, and a pair ofskates, and feet to walk on, and everything you want, ain't you ashamed, when you think of that dear little sister you pushed down stairs--no, didn't push--that poor little lame sister!--O, hark! there is yourmother winding up that hard splint! How would you feel with such a thingon your hip? Go, this minute, and comfort Prudy!"

The impatient feelings were gone for that time; Susy had swallowedthem, or they had flown out of the window. 

"Now Rosy Frances Eastman Mary, " said she, "if your splint is all fixed, I'll comb your hair. "

The splint was made of hard, polished wood and brass. Under it werestrips of plaster an inch wide, which wound round and round the poorwounded limb. These strips of plaster became loose, and there was alittle key-hole in the splint, into which Mrs. Parlin put a key, andwound up and tightened the plaster every morning. This operation did nothurt Prudy at all. 

"Now, " said Susy, after she had combed Prudy's hair carefully, and put anet over it, until her mother should be ready to curl it, "now we willhave a game of checkers. "

Prudy played in high glee, for Susy allowed her to jump all her men, andmarch triumphantly into the king-row, at the head of a victorious army. 

"There, now, Rosy, " said Susy, gently, "are you willing to let me go outriding? I can't play any more if I ride, for I must dress Dotty's doll, and feed my canary. "

"O, well, " said Prudy, considering the matter, "I'm sick; I tell you howit is, I'm sick, you know; but--well, you may go, Susy, if you'll makeup a story as long as a mile. "

Susy really felt grateful to Prudy, but it was her own gentle mannerwhich had charmed the sick child into giving her consent. 

Then Susy proceeded to dress Dotty's doll in a very simple fashion, withtwo holes for short sleeves, and a skirt with a raw edge; but she lookedkind and pleasant while she was at work, and Dotty was just as wellpleased as if it had been an elegant costume she was preparing. And itwas really good enough for a poor deformed rag-baby, with a head shapedlike a stove-pipe. 

Susy was delighted to find how well a little patience served her inamusing "the children. " Next, she went to give Dandy his morning bath. Mrs. Parlin still thought it a dangerous practice, but had not seen Mrs. Mason, to question her about it, and Susy was too obstinate in heropinion to listen to her mother. 

"I must do it, " said Susy; "it has been ever so long since Dandy wasbathed, and I shouldn't take any comfort riding, mamma, if I didn'tleave him clean. "

Susy plunged the trembling canary into his little bathing-bowl, in somehaste. He struggled as usual, and begged, with his weak, piping voice, to be spared such an infliction. But Susy was resolute. 

"It'll do you good, Ducky Daddles; we mustn't have any lazy, dirtybirdies in this house. "

Ducky Daddies rolled up his little eyes, and gasped for breath. 

"O, look, mother!" cried Susy, laughing; "how funny Dandy acts! Do yousuppose it's to make me laugh? O, is he fainting away?"

"Fainting away! My dear child, he is dying!"

This was the sad truth. Mrs. Parlin fanned him, hoping to call back thelingering breath. But it was too late. One or two more throbs, and hisfrightened little heart had ceased to beat; his frail life had gone outas suddenly as a spark of fire. 

Susy was too much shocked to speak. She stood holding the stiffeningbird in her hands, and gazing at it. 

Mrs. Parlin was very sorry for Susy, and had too much kindness offeeling to add to her distress by saying, --

"You know how I warned you, Susy. "

Susy was already suffering for her obstinacy and disregard of hermother's advice; and Mrs. Parlin believed she would lay the lesson toheart quite as well without more words. It was a bitter lesson. Susyloved dumb creatures dearly, and was just becoming very fond of Dandy. 

In the midst of her trouble, and while her eyes were swollen with tears, her cousin Percy came with Wings and the sleigh to give her the promisedride. Susy no longer cared for going out: it seemed to her that herheart was almost broken. 

"Well, cousin Indigo, what is the matter?" said Percy; "you look as ifthis world was a howling wilderness, and you wanted to howl too. What, crying over that bird? Poh! I can buy you a screech-owl any time, thatwill make twice the noise he could in his best days. Come, hurry, andput your things on!"

Susy buried her face in her apron. 

"I'll compose a dirge for him, " said Percy. 

 "My bird is dead, said Susy P. , My bird is dead; O, deary me! He sang so sweet, te whee, te whee; He sings no more; O, deary me! Go hang his cage up in the tree, That cage I care no more to see. My bird is dead, cried Susy P. "

These provoking words Percy drawled out in a sing-song voice. It wastoo much. Susy's eyes flashed through her tears. 

"You've always laughed at me, Percy Eastman, and plagued me about FreddyJackson, and everything, and I've borne it like a--like a lady. But whenyou go to laughing at my poor little Dandy that's dead, and can'tspeak--"

Susy was about to say, "Can't speak for himself, " but saw in time howabsurdly she was talking, and stopped short. 

Percy laughed. 

"Where are you going with that cage?"

"Going to put it away, where I'll never see it again, " sobbed poor Susy. 

"Give it to me, " said Percy: "I'll take care of it for you. "

If Susy's eyes had not been blinded by tears, she would have beensurprised to see the real pity in Percy's face. 

He was a rollicking boy, full of merriment and bluster, and what tenderfeelings he possessed, he took such a wonderful amount of pains toconceal, that Susy never suspected he had any. She would have enjoyedher ride if she had not felt so full of grief. The day was beautiful. There had been a storm, and the trees looked as if they had beensnowballing one another; but Susy had no eye for trees, and just thenhardly cared for her pony. 

Percy put the cage in the sleigh, under the buffalo robes; and whenthey reached his own door, he carried the cage into the house, whileSusy drew a sigh of relief. He offered to stuff Dandy, or have himstuffed; but Susy rejected the idea with horror. 

"No, if Dandy was dead, he was all dead; she didn't want to see himsitting up stiff and cold, when he couldn't sing a speck. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

ANNIE LOVEJOY. 

But the day was not over yet. The bright sun and blue sky were doingwhat they could to make a cheerful time of it, but it seemed as if Susyfell more deeply into trouble, as the hours passed on. 

There are such days in everybody's life, when it rains small vexationsfrom morning till night, and when all we can do is to hope for betterthings to-morrow. 

It was Wednesday; and in the afternoon, Flossy Eastman came over with anew game, and while the little girls, Flossy, Susy and Prudy wereplaying it, and trying their best to keep Dotty Dimple's prying fingersand long curls out of the way, in came Miss Annie Lovejoy. 

This was a little neighbor, who, as the children sometimes privatelydeclared, was "always 'round. " Mrs. Parlin had her own private doubtsabout the advantages to be derived from her friendship, and hadsometimes gone so far as to send her home, when she seemed more thanusually in the way. 

Annie's mother lived next door, but all Mrs. Parlin knew of her, waswhat she could see and hear from her own windows; and that little wasnot very agreeable. She saw that Mrs. Love joy dressed in gaudy colors, and loaded herself with jewelry; and she could hear her scold herservants and children with a loud, shrill voice. 

The two ladies had never exchanged calls; but Annie, it seemed, had fewplaymates, and she clung to Susy with such a show of affection, that Mrs. Parlin could not forbid her visits, although she watched her closely;anxious, as a careful mother should be, to make sure she was a propercompanion for her little daughter. So far she had never known her to sayor do anything morally wrong, though her manners were not exactly thoseof a well-bred little girl. 

This afternoon, when the new game was broken up by the entrance ofAnnie, the children began the play of housekeeping, because Prudy couldjoin in it. Susy found she enjoyed any amusement much more when itpleased the little invalid. 

"I will be the lady of the house, " said Annie, promptly, "because I haverings on my fingers, and a coral necklace. My name is Mrs. Piper. Prudy, --no, Rosy, --you shall be Mrs. Shotwell, come a-visiting me;because you can't do anything else. We'll make believe you've lost yourhusband in the wars. I know a Mrs. Shotwell, and she is always_taking-on_, and saying, 'My poor dear husband, ' under her handkerchief;just this way. "

The children laughed at the nasal twang which Annie gave to the words, and Prudy imitated it to perfection, not knowing it was wrong. 

"Well, what shall I be?" said Susy, not very well pleased that the firstcharacters had been taken already. 

"O, you shall be a hired girl, and wear a handkerchief on your head, just as our girl does; and you must be a little deaf, and keep saying, 'What, ma'am?' when I speak to you. "

"And I, " said Florence, "will be Mr. Peter Piper, the head of thefamily. "

"Yes, " returned Annie, "you can put on a waterproof cloak, and you willmake quite a good-looking husband; but I shall be the head of the familymyself, and have things about as I please!"

"Well, there, " cried Flossy, slipping her arms into the sleeves of hercloak, "I don't know about that; I don't think it's very polite for youto treat your husband in that way. "

Flossy wanted to have the control of family matters herself. 

"But I believe in 'Woman's Rights, '" said Annie, with a toss of thehead, "and if there's anything I despise, it is a _man_ meddling aboutthe house. "

Here little Dotty began to cause a disturbance, by sticking afruit-knife into the edges of the "what-not, " and making a whirringnoise. 

"I wouldn't do so, Dotty, " said Susy, going up to her; "it troubles us;and, besides, I'm afraid it will break the knife. "

"I don't allow my hired girl to interfere with my children, " saidAnnie, speaking up in the character of Mrs. Piper; "I am mistress of thehouse, I'd have you to know! There, little daughter, they shan't plagueher; she shall keep on doing mischief; so she shall!"

Dotty needed no coaxing to keep on doing mischief, but hit the musicalknife harder than ever, giving it a dizzy motion, like the clapper in amill. 

Prudy was quite annoyed by the sound, but did not really know whether tobe nervous or not, and concluded to express her vexation in groans: thegroans she was giving in memory of the departed Mr. Shotwell, who haddied of a "cannon bullet. "

"My good Mrs. Shotwell, " said Mrs. Piper, trying to "makeconversation, " "I think I have got something in my eye: will you pleasetell me how it looks?"

"O, " said Prudy, peeping into it, "your eye looks very well, ma'am;don't you '_xcuse_ it; it looks well enough for _me_. "

"Ahem!" said Mrs. Piper, laughing, and settling her head-dress, whichwas Susy's red scarf: "are your feet warm, Mrs. Shotwell?"

"Thank you, ma'am, " replied Prudy, "I don't feel 'em cold. O, dear, ifyour husband was all deaded up, I guess you'd cry, Mrs. Piper. "

Susy and Flossy looked at each other, and smiled. They thought Prudyseemed more like herself than they had known her for a long time. 

"You must go right out of the parlor, Betsey, " said Mrs. Piper, flourishing the poker; "I mean you, Susy--the parlor isn't any place forhired girls. "

"Ma'am?" said Susy, inclining her head to one side, in order to hearbetter. 

"O, dear! the plague of having a deaf girl!" moaned Mrs. Piper. "Youdon't know how trying it is, Mrs. Shotwell! That hired girl, Betsey, hears with her elbows, Mrs. Shotwell; I verily believe she does!"

"O, no, ma'am, " replied Prudy; "I guess she doesn't hear with herelbows, does she? If she _heard_ with her elbows, she wouldn't have toask you over again!"

This queer little speech set Mr. Piper and his wife, and their servant, all to laughing, and Betsey looked at her elbows, to see if they were inthe right place. 

"Will you please, ma'am, " said Prudy, "ask Betsey to _hot_ a flatiron?I've cried my handkerchief all up!"

"Yes; go right out, Betsey, and _hot_ a flatiron, " said Mrs. Piper, veryhospitably. "Go out, this instant, and build a fire, Betsey. "

"Yes, go right out, Betsey, " echoed Mr. Piper, who could find nothingbetter to do than to repeat his wife's words; for, in spite of himself, she did appear to be the "head of the family. "

"It was my darlin' husband's handkerchief, " sobbed Prudy. 

"Rather a small one for a man, " said Mr. Piper, laughing. 

"Well, " replied Prudy, rather quick for a thought, "my husband had avery small nose!"

Mrs. Piper tried to make more "conversation. "

"O, Mrs. Shotwell, you ought to be exceeding thankful you're a widow, and don't keep house! I think my hired girls will carry down my grayhairs to the grave! The last one I had was Irish, and very Catholic. "

Prudy groaned for sympathy, and wiped her eyes on that corner of herhandkerchief which was supposed to be not quite "cried up. "

"Yes, indeed, it was awful, " continued Mrs. Piper; "for she was alwaysgoing to masses and mass-meetings; and there couldn't anybody die butthey must be 'waked, ' you know. "

"Why, I didn't know they could be waked up when they was dead, " saidPrudy, opening her eyes. 

"O, but they only _make believe_ you can wake 'em, " said Mrs. Piper; "ofcourse it isn't true! For my part, I don't believe a word an Irish girlsays, any way. "

"Hush, my child, " she continued, turning to Dotty, who was nowsharpening the silver knife on the edges of the iron grate. "Betsey, whyin the world don't you see to that baby? I believe you are losing yourmind!"

"That makes me think, " said Prudy, suddenly breaking in with a newidea; "what do you s'pose the reason is folks can't be waked up? Whatmakes 'em stay in heaven all the days, and nights, and years, and nevercome down here to see anybody, not a minute?"

"What an idea!" said Annie. "I'm sure I don't know. "

"Well, I've been a thinkin', " said Prudy, answering her own question, "that when God has sended 'em up to the sky, they like to stay up therethe best. It's a nicer place, a great deal nicer place, up to God'shouse. "

"O, yes, of course, " replied Annie, "but our play--"

"I've been a thinkin', " continued Prudy, "that when I go up to God'shouse, I shan't wear the splint. I can run all over the house, and he'llbe willing I should go up stairs, and down cellar, you know. "

Prudy sighed. Sometimes she almost longed for "God's house. "

"Well, let's go on with our play, " said Annie, impatiently. "It's mostsupper-time, Mrs. Shotwell. Come in, Betsey. "

"Ma'am?" said Betsey, appearing at the door, and turning up one ear, very much as if it were a dipper, in which she expected to catch thewords which dropped from the lips of her mistress. "Betsey, have youattended to your sister--to my little child, I mean? Then go out andmake some sassafras cakes, and some eel-pie, and some squirrel-soup;and set the table in five minutes: do you hear?"

"Ma'am?" said the deaf servant; "what did you say about ginger-bread?"

Susy did not like her part of the game; but she played it as well as shecould, and let Annie manage everything, because that was what pleasedAnnie. 

"O, how stupid Betsey is!" said Mr. Piper, coming to the aid of hiswife. "Mrs. Piper says eel-jumbles, and sassafras-pie, and pound-cake;all made in five minutes!"

Here everybody laughed, and Prudy, suddenly remembering her part, sighed, and said, --

"O, my darlin' husband used to like jumble-pie! I've forgot to cry forever so long!"

Susy began to set the table, and went into the nursery for some cake andcookies, which were kept in an old tin chest, on purpose for this playof housekeeping, which had now been carried on regularly every Wednesdayand Saturday afternoon, for some time. 

Susy opened the cake-chest, and found nothing in it but a few drycookies: the fruit-cake was all gone. Who could have eaten it? NotFlossy, for she had a singular dislike for raisins and currants, andnever so much as tasted fruit-cake. Not Prudy, for the poor little thinghad grown so lame by this time, that she was unable to bear her weighton her feet, much less to walk into the nursery. Dotty could not be thethief. Her baby-conscience was rather tough and elastic, and I supposeshe would have felt no more scruples about nibbling nice things, than anunprincipled little mouse. 

But, then Dotty couldn't reach the cake-chest; so she was certainlyinnocent. 

Then Susy remembered in a moment that it was Annie: Annie had run intothe house morning and night, and had often said, "I'm right hungry. I'mgoing to steal a piece of our cake!"

So it seemed that Annie had eaten it _all_. Susy ran back to Prudy'ssitting-room, where her little guests were seated, and said, trying notto laugh, --

"Please, ma'am, I just made some eel-jumbles and things, and a dog camein and stole them. "

"Very well, Betsey, " said Mrs. Piper, serenely; "make some more. "

"Yes, make some more, " echoed Mr. Piper; and added, "chain up that dog. "

"But real honest true, " said Susy, "the fruit-cake _is_ all gone out ofthe chest. You ate it up, you know, Annie; but it's no matter: we'll cutup some cookies, or, may be, mother'll let us have someoyster-crackers. "

"_I_ ate up the cake!" cried Annie; "It's no such a thing; I nevertouched it!" Her face flushed as she spoke. 

"O, but you did, " persisted Susy; "I suppose you've forgotten! You wentto the cake-chest this morning, and last night, and yesterday noon, andever so many more times. "

Annie was too angry to speak. 

"But it's just as well, " added Susy, politely; "you could have it aswell as not, and perfectly welcome!"

"What are you talking about?" cried Annie, indignantly; for she thoughtshe saw a look of surprise and contempt on Flossy's face, and fanciedthat Flossy despised her because she had a weakness for fruit-cake. 

"I wonder if you take me for a pig, Susy Parlin! I heard what yourmother said about that cake! She said it was too dry for her company, but it was too rich for little girls, and we must only eat a _teeny_speck at a time. I told my mamma, and she laughed, to think such meandried-up cake was too rich for little girls!"

Susy felt her temper rising, but her desire to be polite did not deserther. 

"It _was_ rich, nice cake, Annie; but mother said the slices had beencut a great while, and it was drying up. Let's not talk any more aboutit. "

"O, but I _shall_ talk more about it, " cried Annie, still moreirritated; "you keep hinting that I tell wrong stories and steal cake;yes, you do! and then you ain't willing to let me speak!"

All this sounded like righteous indignation, but was only anger. Anniewas entirely in the wrong, and knew it; therefore she lost her temper. 

Susy had an unusual amount of self-control at this time, merely becauseshe had the truth on her side. But her dignified composure only vexedAnnie the more. 

"I won't stay here to be imposed upon, and told that I'm a liar and athief; so I won't! I'll go right home this very minute, and tell mymother just how you treat your company!"

And, in spite of all Susy could say, Annie threw on her hood and cloak, and flounced out of the room; forgetting, in her wrath, to take offSusy's red scarf, which was still festooned about her head. 

"Well, I'm glad she's gone, " said Flossy, coolly, as the door closedwith a slam. "She's a bold thing, and my mother wouldn't like me to playwith her, if she knew how she acts! She said 'victuals' for food, andthat isn't _elegant_, mother says. What right had she to set up and sayshe'd be Mrs. Piper? So forward!"

After all, this was the grievous part of the whole to Flossy, --that shehad to take an inferior part in the play. 

"But I'm _sorry_ she's gone, " said Susy, uneasily. "I don't like to haveher go and tell that I wasn't polite. "

"You _was_ polite, " chimed in little Prudy, from the sofa; "a great dealpoliter'n she was! I wouldn't care, if I would be you, Susy. I don'twish Annie was dead, but I wish she was a duck a-sailin' on the water!"

The children went back to the game they had been playing before Anniecame; but the interest was quite gone. Their quick-tempered littleguest had been a "_kill-joy_" in spite of her name. 

But the afternoon was not over yet. What happened next, I will tell youin another chapter. 

CHAPTER IX. 

MORAL COURAGE. 

Annie Lovejoy had not been gone fifteen minutes, when there was a sharpringing of Mrs. Parlin's doorbell, and a little boy gave Norah the redscarf of Susy's, and a note for Mrs. Parlin. 

Norah suspected they both came from Mrs. Lovejoy, and she could see thatlady from the opposite window, looking toward the house with a verydefiant expression. 

Mrs. Parlin opened the note with some surprise, for she had beenengaged with visitors in the parlor, and did not know what had beengoing on up stairs. 

Whatever Mrs. Lovejoy's other accomplishments might be, she could notwrite very elegantly. The ink was hardly dry, and the words were badlyblotted, as well as incorrectly spelled. 

 "Mrs. Parlin. 

 "Madam: If my own _doughter_ is a _theif_ and a _lier_, I beg to be informed. She has no _knowlidg_ of the cake, _whitch_ was so _dryed_ up, a _begar woold_ not touch it. Will Miss Susan Parlin come over here, and take back her words?

 "SERENA LOVEJOY. "

Mrs. Parlin was at a loss to understand this, for she had quiteforgotten the fact, that the children had any cake to use at their playof housekeeping. She supposed that Susy must have accused Annie ofprying into the china-closet, where the cakes and jellies were kept. Shesent for Susy at once. 

"My daughter, " said she, in her usual quiet tones, "did you ever haveany reason to suppose that Annie Lovejoy went about meddling with ourthings, and peeping into the closets?"

"Why, no, mother, " replied Susy, much surprised; "she never saw theclosets, that I know of. Why, mother, what do you mean?"

"Never ate cake, did she, without leave?"

"O, now I know what you mean, mother! Yes'm, she ate some of thatfruit-cake you gave us to play with; and when I told her of it, she gotangry, and said she was going right home, and would tell her mother howI treated my company; but I don't see how you found that out!"

"Never mind yet how I found it out, my dear. I want to know if you aresure that Annie ate the cake?"

"Yes, mother: just as certain sure as I can be! You know Dotty can'treach that high shelf in the nursery-closet, and I can't, withoutgetting into a chair; and Prudy can't walk a step; and Flossy despisescake. "

"But, " said Mrs. Parlin, smiling, "I don't see that you have provedAnnie to be the guilty one. "

"Guilty? O, I don't know as she is _guilty_, mamma; but she ate thecake! She ate it right before my face and eyes; but I told her it wasjust as well, she was perfectly welcome, and tried to be as polite as ifshe was a grown-up lady, mother. But, O, dear, it didn't make a speck ofdifference how much I said; for the more I said, the more angry shegrew, and I couldn't make her believe I didn't think she was a thief anda liar! Only think, a thief and a liar! But I never said those words atall, mother!"

"Very well, my dear; I am sure you did not. It is a great comfort tome, Susy, that I can always rely on your word. You have done nothingwrong, and need not be unhappy; but Mrs. Lovejoy sends for you to goover and tell her just what you mean about the cake; are you willing togo?"

Susy was not willing; indeed, she was very much frightened, and beggedher mother to excuse her in some way to Mrs. Lovejoy, or, if that wouldnot do, to go herself and explain the matter for her. 

But, as it was Susy's own affair, Mrs. Parlin wished to have as littleto do with it as possible. Besides, she considered it a good opportunityto teach Susy a lesson in moral courage. 

Susy started very reluctantly. 

"I'm afraid Mrs. Lovejoy will scold real sharp, " said she. "What shall Ido? O, mother, I didn't see Annie eat _all_ the cake; I didn't watch. How do I know but she gave some crumbs to the cat? Can't I--can't I say, I _guess_ the cat ate it?"

"Susy!" said Mrs. Parlin, sternly, "are you more afraid of displeasingMrs. Lovejoy than you are of displeasing God? All that is required ofyou is the simple truth. Merely say to Annie's mother just what you havesaid to me; that you saw Annie eating cake several times, though therewas no harm in it, and you did _not_ call her either a thief or a liar. Speak respectfully, but decidedly; and when you have said all that isnecessary, leave her politely, and come home. "

Susy called up all her courage when she entered Mrs. Lovejoy's house, and saw that lady sitting very erect on a sofa, with a bleak face, whichlooked somehow as if a north-east wind had blown over it, and frozen it. 

"Well, little girl, " said she, without waiting for ceremony, "so youcall my Annie all the bad names you can think of, it seems. Is that theway you are brought up?"

"I didn't call her names, ma'am; she ate the cake, but I was willing, "replied Susy, calmly and respectfully, though she trembled from head tofoot. There was one thought which sustained Susy; she was telling thetruth, and that was just what God wanted her to do. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Lovejoy, "I must say you're a dignified little piece!Do you know you've done the same thing as to tell me I lie?"

This was just the way _Annie_ had spoken; warping innocent words, andmaking them the occasion of a quarrel. 

Susy could think of nothing which seemed exactly right to say to Mrs. Lovejoy in reply; so she wisely held her peace. 

"Yes, miss, you've insulted my child, and, as if that were not enough, you come over here, deliberately, and insult _me_, in my own house!"

Tears sprang to Susy's eyes, but she resolutely crushed them back. There was, in her childish mind, a certain sense of self-respect, whichmade her unwilling to cry in the presence of such a person as Mrs. Lovejoy. She felt instinctively that the woman was not a lady. Susy wastoo young to reason about the matter; but she was quite sure her ownmother was a model of good manners; and never, never had she known hermother to raise her voice to such a high key, or speak such angry words!

Mrs. Lovejoy said a great many things which were both severe and unjust;but Susy managed to keep up a respectful manner, as her mother haddirected. Mrs. Lovejoy was disappointed. She had expected Susy wouldquail before her presence and make the most humble confessions. 

"I always knew, " cried Mrs. Lovejoy, becoming more and moreexasperated, --"I always knew Mrs. Parlin held her head pretty high! Sheis a proud, stuck-up woman, your mother is; she has taught you to lookdown on my little girl! O, yes, I understand the whole story! You're abeautiful family for neighbors!"

Poor Susy was fairly bewildered. 

"Now you may go home as straight as you can go! But remember one thing:never, while we live in this city, shall my daughter Annie darken yourdoors again!"

Susy walked home with downcast head and overflowing eyes. Her heart wasvery heavy, for she felt she had been disgraced for life, and couldnever be respected any more. Here was a trial so terrible that it causedthe death of little Dandy to seem almost a trifle by comparison. 

It was strange, Susy thought, how people could live through such severetroubles as had fallen to her lot to-day. She was a little girl of quickand sensitive feelings, and a sharp word always wounded her more than ablow. How that angry woman had talked about her mother!

Susy decided, upon the whole, that this was the sting--this was the "pinin the lash, " which had hurt her more than the lash. How _dared_ Mrs. Lovejoy say a word about her own mother, who was certainly the bestwoman that ever lived, always excepting the good people in the Bible!

By the time she entered the house, her indignation had risen like ablaze, and burned away all her tears. But should she tell her motherwhat Mrs. Lovejoy had said about her ownself, about her being "stuckup, " and holding her head pretty high? Susy could not decide whether sheought to tell her, and risk the danger of almost breaking her heart! Butbefore she had time to decide, she had poured out the whole story in atorrent. 

Strange to say, Mrs. Parlin listened with perfect calmness, and evensaid, when Susy had finished, --

"Very well, my dear; now you may go and hang up your hood and cloak. "

"But, mother, " said Susy, rushing up stairs again, quite out of breath, "now I've taken care of my things; but did you understand what I said, mother? Annie will never come into this house, never again! Her motherforbids it!"

"That is quite fortunate for me, Susy, as it saves me the trouble offorbidding it myself!"

"Why, mother, you wouldn't do such a thing as that! Why, mother, I neverheard of your doing such a thing in my life!"

"I should regret the necessity very much, my child; but wouldn't it bebetter, on the whole, to have a little moral courage, and put an end toall intercourse between the two families, than to live in a constantbroil?"

"Why, yes, mother, I suppose so. "

Susy was beginning to feel more composed. She saw that her motherunderstood the whole story, yet her heart was far from being broken!

"What is moral courage, mother?"

"The courage to do right. "

"Did I have moral courage when I told Mrs. Lovejoy the truth?"

"Yes, dear. It was hard for you, wasn't it? If it had been easy, therewould have been no moral courage about it. "

"I am glad I had moral courage!" said Susy with animation. "I knew I didsomething _right_, but I didn't know what you called it. "

"Now, " continued Mrs. Parlin, "I have this very day been talking with alady, who once lived next door to Mrs. Lovejoy; and she tells me enoughabout her to convince me that she is not a person I wish for a neighbor. And I have heard enough about Annie, too, to feel very sure she is not asafe companion for my little daughter. "

"But, mother, " said Susy, "you are not--you don't feel 'stuck up' aboveMrs. Lovejoy?"

Mrs. Parlin smiled. 

"That is not a very proper expression, Susy; but I think I do not feel_stuck-up_ above her in the least. I am only anxious that my littledaughter may not be injured by bad examples. I don't know what sort of alittle girl Annie might be with proper influences, but--"

"Now, mamma, I don't want to say anything improper, " said Susy, earnestly; "but wouldn't it be the _piousest_ for me to play with Annie, and try to make her go to Sabbath school, and be better?"

Mrs. Parlin did not answer at once. She was thinking of what she hadsaid to Susy about people who are "home missionaries, " and do a greatdeal of good by a beautiful example. 

"If you were older, dear, it would be quite different. But, instead ofimproving Annie, who is a self-willed child, I fear you would only growworse yourself. She is bold, and you are rather timid. She wants tolead, and not to follow. I fear she will set you bad examples. "

"I didn't know, mamma; but I thought I was almost old enough to set my_own_ examples! I'm the oldest of the family. "

Susy said no more about becoming a home-missionary to Annie; for, although she could not quite see the force of her mother's reasoning, she believed her mother was always right. 

"But what does she mean by calling me _timid_? She has blamed me a greatdeal for being _bold_. "

Yes, bold Susy certainly was, when there was a fence to climb, a pony toride, or a storm to be faced; but she was, nevertheless, a littlefaint-hearted when people laughed at her. But Susy was learning everyday, and this time it had been a lesson in moral courage. She did notfully understand her mother, however, as you will see by and by. 

CHAPTER X. 

RUTHIE TURNER. 

 "The darkest day, Wait till to-morrow, will have passed away. "

The next morning, Susy woke with a faint recollection that somethingunpleasant had occurred, though she could not at first remember what itwas. 

"But I didn't do anything wrong, " was her second thought. "Now, after Isay my prayers, the next thing I'll feed--O, Dandy is dead!"

"See here, Susy, " said Percy, coming into the dining-room, just afterbreakfast; "did you ever see this cage before?"

"Now, Percy! When you know I want it out of my sight!"

Then, in the next breath, "Why, Percy Eastman, if here isn't yourbeautiful mocking-bird in the cage!"

"Yes, Susy; and if you'll keep him, and be good to him, you'll do me agreat favor. "

It was a long while before Susy could be persuaded that this rare birdwas to be her "ownest own. " It was a wonderfully gifted little creature. Susy could but own that he was just as good as a canary, only a greatdeal better. "The greater included the less. " He had as sweet a voice, and a vast deal more compass. His powers of mimicry were very amusing topoor little Prudy, who was never tired of hearing him mew like a kitten, quack like a duck, or whistle like a schoolboy. 

Susy was still more delighted than Prudy. It was so comforting, too, toknow that she was doing Percy "a great favor, " by accepting hisbeautiful present. She wondered in her own mind how he _could_ be tiredof such an interesting pet, and asked her to take it, just to get rid ofit!

About this time, Mr. Parlin bought for Prudy a little armed-chair, whichrolled about the floor on wheels. This Prudy herself could propel withonly the outlay of a very little strength; but there were days when shedid not care to sit in it at all. Prudy seemed to grow worse. The doctorwas hopeful, very hopeful; but Mrs. Parlin was not. 

Prudy's dimpled hands had grown so thin, that you could trace thewinding path of every blue vein quite distinctly. Her eyes were largeand mournful, and seemed to be always asking for pity. She grew quietand patient--"painfully patient, " her father said. Indeed, Mr. Parlin, as well as his wife, feared the little sufferer was ripening for heaven. 

"Mamma, " said she, one day, "mamma, you never snip my fingers anynowadays do you? When I'm just as naughty, you never snip my fingers!"

Mrs. Parlin turned her face away. There were tears in her eyes, and shedid not like to look at those little white fingers, which she was almostafraid would never have the natural, childish naughtiness in them anymore. 

"I think sick and patient little girls don't need punishing, " said she, after a while. "Do you remember how you used to think I snipped yourhands to 'get the naughty out?' You thought the naughty was all in yourlittle hands!"

"But it wasn't, mamma, " said Prudy, slowly and solemnly. "I know whereit was: it was in my _heart_. "

"Who can take the naughty out of our hearts, dear? Do you ever think?"

"Our Father in heaven. No one else can. _He_ knows how to snip ourhearts, and get the naughty out. Sometimes he sends the earache and thetoothache to Susy, and the--the--lameness to me. O, he has a great manyways of snipping!"

Prudy was showing the angel-side of her nature now. Suffering was"making her perfect. " She had a firm belief that God knew all about it, and that somehow or other it was "all right. " Her mother took a greatdeal of pains to teach her this. She knew that no one can bearaffliction with real cheerfulness who does not trust in God. 

But there was now and then a bright day when Prudy felt quite buoyant, and wanted to play. Susy left everything then, and tried to amuse her. If this lameness was refining little Prudy, it was also making Susy morepatient. She could not look at her little sister's pale face, and not betouched with pity. 

One afternoon, Flossy Eastman and Ruthie Turner came to see Susy; and, as it was one of Prudy's best days, Mrs. Parlin said they might play inPrudy's sitting-room. Ruthie was what Susy called an "old-fashionedlittle girl. " She lived with a widowed mother, and had no brothers andsisters, so that she appeared much older than she really was. She likedto talk with grown people upon wise subjects, as if she were at leasttwenty-five years old. Susy knew that this was not good manners, and shelonged to say so to Ruthie. 

Aunt Madge was in Prudy's sitting-room when Ruthie entered. Ruthie wentup to her and shook hands at once. 

"I suppose it is Susy's aunt Madge, " said she. "I am delighted to seeyou, for Susy says you love little girls, and know lots of games. "

There was such a quiet composure in Ruth's manner, and she seemed tofeel so perfectly at home in addressing a young lady she had never seenbefore, that Miss Parlin was quite astonished, as well as a littleinclined to smile. 

Then Ruthie went on to talk about the war. Susy listened in mutedespair, for she did not know anything about politics. Aunt Madge lookedat Susy's face, and felt amused, for _Ruthie_ knew nothing aboutpolitics either: she was as ignorant as Susy. She had only heard hermother and other ladies talking together. Ruthie answered all thepurpose of a parrot hung up in a cage, for she caught and echoedeverything that was said, not having much idea what it meant. 

When aunt Madge heard Ruth laboring away at long sentences, with hardwords in them, she thought of little Dotty, as she had seen her, thatmorning, trying to tug Percy's huge dog up stairs in her arms. 

"It is too much for her, " thought aunt Madge: "the dog got theupper-hand of Dotty, and I think the big words are more than a match forRuth. "

But Ruth did not seem to know it, for she persevered. She gravely askedaunt Madge if she approved of the "_Mancimation_ of _Proclapation_. "Then she said she and her mamma were very much "_perplexed"_ when newscame of the last defeat. She would have said "_surprised_" only_surprised_ was an every-day word, and not up to standard of elegantEnglish. 

Ruth was not so very silly, after all. It was only when she tried totalk of matters too old for her that she made herself ridiculous. Shewas very quiet and industrious, and had knit several pairs of socks forthe soldiers. 

As soon as Miss Parlin could disentangle herself from her conversationwith Ruthie, she left the children to themselves. 

"Let's keep school, " said Prudy. "I'll be teacher, if you want me to. "

"Very well, " replied Susy, "we'll let her; won't we, girls? she is sucha darling. "

"Well, " said Prudy, with a look of immense satisfaction, "please go, Susy, and ask grandma if I may have one of those shiny, whitehandkerchiefs she wears on her neck, and a cap, and play Quaker. "

Grandma was very glad that Prudy felt well enough to play Quaker, andlent her as much "costume" as she needed, as well as a pair ofspectacles without eyes, which the children often borrowed for theirplays, fancying that they added to the dignity of the wearer. 

When Prudy was fairly equipped, she was a droll little Quakeress, surely, and grandma had to be called up from the kitchen to behold herwith her own eyes. The little soft face, almost lost in the folds of theexpansive cap, was every bit as solemn as if she had been, as aunt Madgesaid, "a hundred years old, and very old for her age. "

She was really a sweet little likeness of grandma Read in miniature. 

"And their names are alike, too, " said Susy: "grandma's name isPrudence, and so is Prudy's. "

"Used to be, " said Prudy, gravely. 

"Rosy Frances" was now lifted most carefully into her little wheeledchair and no queen ever held a court with more dignity than she assumedas she smoothed into place the folds of her grandma's snowy kerchief, which she wore about her neck. 

"What shall we do first?" said Flossy and Susy. 

"Thee? thee?" Prudy considered "thee" the most important word of all. "Why, _thee_ may behave; I mean, behave _thyselves_. "

The new teacher had not collected her ideas yet. 

"Let's get our books together, " said Susy, "and then we'll all sit onthe sofa and study. "

"Me, me, " chimed in Dotty Dimple, dropping the little carriage in whichshe was wheeling her kitty; "me, too!"

"Well, if you must, you must; snuggle in here between Flossy and me, "said Susy, who was determined that to-day everything should go onpleasantly. 

"Sixteenth class in joggerphy, " said Miss Rosy Frances, peeping severelyover her spectacles. "Be spry quick!"

The three pupils stood up in a row, holding their books close to theirfaces. 

"Thee may hold out your hands now, and I shall ferule thee--the wholeschool, " was the stern remark of the young teacher, as she took off herspectacles to wipe the holes. 

"Why, we haven't been doing anything, " said Ruthie, affecting to cry. 

"No, I know it; but thee'd _ought_ to have been doing something; thee'dought to have studied thy lessons. "

"But, teacher, we didn't have time, " pleaded Flossy; "you called us outso quick! Won't you forgive us!"

"Yes, I will, " said Rosy Frances, gently; "I will, if thee'll speak up_'xtremely_ loud, and fix _thine_ eyes on thy teacher. "

The pupils replied, "Yes, ma'am, " at the top of their voices. 

"Now, " said Rosy Frances, appearing to read from the book, "where is theIsthmus of _Susy?_"

The scholars all laughed, and answered at random. They did not know thattheir teacher was trying to say the "Isthmus of Suez. "

The next question took them by surprise:--

"Is there any man in the moon?"

"What a queer idea, Rosy, " said Susy; "what made you ask that?"

"'Cause I wanted to know, " replied the Quaker damsel. "They said hecame down when the other man was eatin' porridge. I should think, if hewent back up there, and didn't have any wife and children, he'd be reallonesome!"

This idea of Prudy's set the whole school to romancing, although it wasin the midst of a recitation. Flossy said if there was a man in themoon, he must be a giant, or he never could get round over themountains, which she had heard were very steep. 

Ruthie asked if there was anything said about his wife! Susy, who hadread considerable poetry was sure she had heard something of a woman upthere, named "Cynthia;" but she supposed it was all "moonshine, " or"made up, " as she expressed it. She said she meant to ask her auntMadge to write a fairy story about it. 

Here their progress in useful knowledge was cut short by thedisappearance of Dotty. Looking out of the window, they saw the littlerogue driving ducks with a broomstick. These ducks had a home not farfrom Mrs. Parlin's, and if Dotty Dimple had one temptation stronger thanall others, it was the sight of those waddling fowls, with their velvetheads, beads of eyes, and spotted feathers. When she saw them "marshin'along, " she was instantly seized with a desire either to head thecompany or to march in the rear, and set them to quacking. She wasbareheaded, and Susy ran down stairs to bring her into the house; andthat was an end of the school for that day. Dotty Dimple was somethinglike the kettle of molasses which Norah was boiling, very sweet, butvery apt to _boil over_: she needed watching. 

When Norah's candy was brought up stairs, the little girls pronounced itexcellent. 

"O, dear, " said Flossy, "I wish our girl was half as good as Norah! Idon't see why Electa and Norah ain't more alike when they are ownsisters!"

"What dreadful girls your mother always has!" said Susy; "it's too bad?"

"I know of a girl, " said Prudy, "one you'd like ever'n, ever so much, Flossy; only you can't have her. "

"Why not?" said Flossy; "my mother would go hundreds of leagues to get agood girl. Why can't she have her?"

"O, 'cause, she's _dead!_ It's Norah's cousin over to Ireland. "

They next played the little game of guessing "something in this room, "that begins with a certain letter. Ruthie puzzled them a long while onthe initial S. At last she said she meant "scrutau" (escritoire orscrutoire), pointing towards the article with her finger. 

"Why, that's a _writing-desk_, " said Susy. "I don't see where you learnso many big worns, Ruthie. "

"O, I take notice, and remember them, " replied Ruthie, looking quitepleased. She thought Susy was praising her. 

"Now let _me_ tell some letters, " said Prudy. 

"L. R. She lives at your house, Flossy. "

Nobody could guess. 

"Why, I should think _that_ was easy enough, " said Prudy: "it's thatgirl that lives there; she takes off the covers of your stove with aclothes-pin: it's 'Lecta Rosbornd. '"

The little girls explained to Prudy that the true initials of ElectaOsborne would be E. O. , instead of L. R. But Prudy did not know much aboutspelling. She _had_ known most of her letters; but it was some time ago, and they had nearly all slipped out of her head. 

She said, often, she wished she could "only, only read;" and Susyoffered to teach her, but Mrs. Parlin said it would never do till Prudyfelt stronger. 

I will tell you now why I think Susy did not understand her mother whenshe said Annie was not a suitable playmate. In the evening, after Ruthieand Flossy were gone, Susy said to her mother, --

"I feel real cross with Ruthie, mamma: I think she puts herself forward. She goes into a room, and no matter how old the people are that aretalking, she speaks up, and says, 'O, yes, I know all about it. ' I neversaw such an old-fashioned little girl. "

"Very well, " said Mrs. Parlin; "if _she_ is rude, take care that thesame fault does not appear in yourself, Susy. "

"But, mother, " said Susy, suddenly veering about and speaking in Ruth'sfavor, "I don't know but it's proper to do as Ruthy does. If you knowsomething, and other people don't, ain't it right to speak up and sayit?"

"It is never right for little girls to _monopolize_ conversation, Susy;that is, to take the lead in it, and so prevent older people fromtalking. Neither is it proper to pretend to know more than we do, andtalk of things beyond our knowledge. "

"I knew you would say so, mother. I just asked to hear what you wouldsay. I know Ruthie is ill-mannered: do you think I ought to play withher any more?"

Mrs. Parlin looked at Susy in surprise. 

"Why, you know, mother, you wouldn't let me play with Annie Lovejoy. Yousaid, 'evil communications corrupted good manners. '"

"But can't you see any difference in the cases, Susy? What a muddylittle head you must wear on your shoulders!"

"Not much of any, " said Susy, trying to think; "they're both _bold_;that's what you don't like. "

"Anything else, Susy?"

"O, yes, mother; Ruthie's good, and Annie isn't. It was queer for me toforget that!"

"I should think it was, Susy, since it is the only thing of muchimportance, after all. Now, it seems to me you are very ready to castoff your friends when their manners offend you. How would you like it tobe treated in the same way? Suppose Mrs. Turner and Ruthie should betalking together this very minute. Ruthie says, 'That Susy Parlin keepsher drawers in a perfect tumble; she isn't orderly a bit. Susy Parlinnever knit a stitch for the soldiers in her life. Mother, mayn't I stopplaying with Susy Parlin?'"

Susy laughed, and looked a little ashamed. 

"Well, mother, " said she, twisting the corner of her handkerchief, "Iguess I can't say anything about Ruthie Turner; she's a great dealbetter girl than I am, any way. "

CHAPTER XI. 

SUSY'S BIRTHDAY. 

Days and weeks passed. The snowflakes, which had fallen from time totime, and kept themselves busy making a patchwork quilt for motherEarth, now melted away, and the white quilt was torn into shreds. Thebare ground was all there was to be seen, except now and then a dot ofthe white coverlet. It was Spring, and everything began to wake up. Thesun wasn't half so sleepy, and didn't walk off over the western hills inthe middle of the afternoon to take a nap. 

The sleighing was gone long ago. The roads were dismal swamps. "Wings"would have a rest till "settled going. " Susy's skates were hung up in agreen baize bag, to dream away the summer. 

The mocking-bird performed his daily duties of entertaining the family, besides learning a great many new songs. Susy said she tried not to sether heart on that bird. 

"I'll not give him a name, " she added, "for then he'll be sure to die!My first canary was Bertie, and I named the others Berties, as fast asthey died off. The last one was so yellow that I couldn't help callinghim Dandelion; but I wish I hadn't, for then, perhaps, he'd have lived. "

Susy had caught some whimsical notions about "signs and wonders. " It isstrange how some intelligent children will believe in superstitiousstories! But as soon as Susy's parents discovered that her young headhad been stored with such worse than foolish ideas, they were not slowto teach her better. 

She had a great fright, about this time, concerning Freddy Jackson. Hewas one of the few children who were allowed to play in "Prudy'ssitting-room. " He did not distract the tired nerves of "Rosy Frances, "as her cousin Percy and other boys did, by sudden shouts and loudlaughing. Prudy had a vague feeling that he was one of the little onesthat God thought best to punish by "snipping his heart. " She knew whatit was to have _her_ heart snipped, and had a sympathy with littleFreddy. 

Susy loved Freddy, too. Perhaps Percy was right, when he said that Susyloved everything that was dumb; and I am not sure but her tender heartwould have warmed to him all the more if he had been stone-blind, aswell as deaf. 

Freddy had a drunken father, and a sad home; but, for all that, he wasnot entirely miserable. It is only the wicked who are miserable. Thekind Father in heaven has so planned it that there is something pleasantin everybody's life. 

Freddy had no more idea what _sound_ is than we have of the angels inheaven; but he could see, and there is so much to be seen! Here is agreat, round world, full of beauty and wonder. It stands ready to belooked at. Freddy's ears must be forever shut out from pleasant sound;but his bright eyes were wide open, seeing all that was made to beseen. 

He loved to go to Mrs. Parlin's, for there he was sure to be greetedpleasantly; and he understood the language of smiles as well as anybody. 

When grandma Read saw him coming she would say, --

"Now, Susan, thee'd better lay aside thy book, for most likely the poorlittle fellow will want to _talk_. "

And Susy did lay aside her book. She had learned so many lessons thiswinter in self-denial!

These "silent talks" were quite droll. Little Dotty almost understoodsomething about them; that is, when they used the signs: the alphabetwas more than she could manage. When Freddy wanted to talk about Dotty, he made a sign for a dimple in each cheek. He smoothed his hair when hemeant Susy, and made a waving motion over his head for Prudy, whose hairwas full of ripples. 

Prudy said she had wrinkled hair, and she knew it; but the wrinkles"wouldn't come out. "

Grandma Read sat one evening by the coal-grate, holding a letter in herhand, and looking into the glowing fire with a thoughtful expression. Susy came and sat near her, resting one arm on her grandma's lap, andtrying in various ways to attract her attention. 

"Why, grandma, " said she, "I've spoken to you three times; but I can'tget you to answer or look at me. "

"What does thee want, my dear? I will try to attend to thee. "

"O, grandma, there are ever so many things I want to say, now mother isout of the room, and father hasn't got home. I must tell somebody, or myheart will break; and you know, grandma dear, I can talk to you soeasy. "

"Can thee? Then go on, Susy; what would thee like to say?"

"O, two or three things. Have you noticed, grandma, that I've been justas sober as can be?"

"For how long, Susan?"

"O, all day; I've felt as if I couldn't but just live!"

Grandma Read did not smile at this. She knew very well that such a childas Susy is capable of intense suffering. 

"Well, Susan, is it about thy sister Prudence?"

"O, no, grandma! she's getting; better; isn't she?"

"Are thy lessons at school too hard for thee, Susan?"

Mrs. Read saw that Susy was very reluctant about opening her heart, although she had said she could talk to her grandmother "so easy. "

"No, indeed, grandma; my lessons are not too hard. I'm a real goodscholar--one of the best in school for my age. "

This was a fact. Some people would have chidden Susy for it; but Mrs. Read reflected that the child was only telling the simple truth, and hadno idea of boasting. She was not a little girl who would intrude suchremarks about herself upon strangers. But when she and her grandma weretalking together confidentially, she thought it made all the differencein the world; as indeed it did. 

"I have a great deal to trouble me, " said Susy, and the "evening-blue"of her eyes clouded over, till there were signs of a shower. "I thoughtmy pony would make me happy as long as I lived; but it hasn't. One thingthat I feel bad about is--well, it's turning over a new leaf. When NewYear's comes, I'm going to do it, and don't; so I wait till my birthday, and then I don't. It seems as if I'd tried about a thousand New Yearsand birthdays to turn over that leaf. "

Grandma smiled, but did not interrupt Susy. 

"I think I should be real good, " continued the child, "if it wasn't suchhard work. I can't be orderly, grandma--not much; and then Dotty upsetseverything. Sometimes I have to hold my breath to keep patient. 

"Well, grandma, my birthday comes to-morrow, the 8th of April. I likeit well enough; only there's one reason why I don't like it at all, andthat is a Bible reason. It's so dreadful that I can't bear to say it toyou, " said Susy, shuddering, and lowering her voice to a whisper; "Idon't want to grow up, for I shall have to marry Freddy Jackson. "

Grandma tried to look serious. 

"Who put such a foolish idea into thy head, child?"

"Cousin Percy told me last night, " answered Susy, solemnly. "How can youlaugh when it's all in the Bible, grandma? I never told anybody before. Wait; I'll show you the verse. I've put a mark at the place. "

Susy brought her Bible to her grandmother, and, opening it at thethirty-first chapter of Proverbs, pointed, with a trembling finger, tothe eighth verse, which Mrs. Read read aloud, --

"Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointedto destruction. "

"Now Percy says that's a sure sign! I told him, O, dear! Freddy ought tomarry a dumb woman; that would be _properest_; but Percy saysno--anything has got to 'come to pass' when it's _foreordinationed_!"

"And could thee really believe such foolishness, my sensible littleSusan? Does thee suppose the good Lord ever meant that we should readhis Bible as if it were a wicked dream-book?"

"Then you don't think I shall have to marry Freddy Jackson, " cried Susy, immensely relieved. "I'm so glad I told you! I felt so sober all day, only nobody noticed it, and I was ashamed to tell!"

"It is a good thing for thee to tell thy little troubles to thy olderfriends, Susan: thee'll almost always find it so, " said grandma Read, stroking Susy's hair. 

"Now, my child, I have a piece of news for thee, if thee is ready tohear it: thy cousin, Grace Clifford, has a little sister. "

"A baby sister? A real sister? Does mother know it?"

"Yes, thy mother knows it. "

"But how _could_ you keep it to yourself so long?"

"Thee thinks good news is hard to keep, does thee? Well, thee shall bethe first to tell thy father when he comes home. "

Susy heard steps on the door-stone, and rushed out, with the joyfulstory on her lips. It proved to be not her father, but callers, who werejust ringing the bell; and they heard Susy's exclamation, --

"O, have you heard? Grace has a new sister, a baby sister, as true asyou live!" with the most provoking coolness. 

But when Mr. Parlin came, he was sufficiently interested in the news tosatisfy even Susy. 

CHAPTER XII. 

FAREWELL. 

Prudy was really getting better. Mrs. Parlin said she should trust aphysician more next time. The doctor declared that all the severe painPrudy had suffered was really necessary. 

"Believe me, my dear madam, " said he, "when the poor child hascomplained most, she has in fact been making most progress towardshealth. When the sinews are 'knitting together, ' as we call it, then theagony is greatest. "

This was very comforting to Mrs. Parlin, who thought she would not bediscouraged so easily again; she would always believe that it is"darkest just before day. "

There was really everything to hope for Prudy. The doctor thought thatby the end of three months she would walk as well as ever. He said shemight make the effort now, every day, to bear her weight on her feet. She tried this experiment first with her father and mother on each sideto support her; but it was not many days before she could stand firmlyon her right foot, and bear a little weight on her left one, which didnot now, as formerly, drag, or, as she had said, "_more_ than touch thefloor. " By and by she began to scramble about on the carpet on allfours, partly creeping, partly pushing herself along. 

It was surprising how much pleasure Prudy took in going back to theseways of babyhood. 

Faint blush roses began to bloom in her cheeks as soon as she could takea little exercise and go out of doors. Her father bought a littlecarriage just suitable for the pony, and in this she rode every morning, her mother or Percy driving; for Mrs. Parlin thought it hardly safe totrust Susy with such a precious encumbrance as this dear little sister. 

She had been willing that Susy should manage Wings in a sleigh, but in acarriage the case was quite different; for, though in a sleigh theremight be even more danger of overturning, there was not as much dangerof getting hurt. Indeed, Susy's sleigh had tipped over once or twice inturning too sharp a corner, and Susy had fallen out, but had instantlyjumped up again, laughing. 

She would have driven in her new carriage to Yarmouth and back again, orperhaps to Bath, if she had been permitted. She was a reckless littlehorsewoman, afraid of nothing, and for that very reason could not betrusted alone. 

But there was no difficulty in finding companions. Percy pretended tostudy book-keeping, but was always ready for a ride. Flossy was notsteady enough to be trusted with the reins, but Ruth Turner was ascareful a driver as need be; though Susy laughed because she held thereins in both hands, and looked so terrified. 

She said it did no good to talk with Ruth when she was driving; shenever heard a word, for she was always watching to see if a carriagewas coming, and talking to herself, to make sure she remembered whichwas her right hand, so she could "turn to the right, as the lawdirects. "

Prudy enjoyed the out-of-doors world once more, and felt like a bird letout of a cage. And so did Susy, for she thought she had had a dullseason of it, and fully agreed with Prudy, who spoke of it as the "slowwinter. "

But now it was the quick spring, the live spring. The brooks began togossip; the birds poured out their hearts in song, and the dumb treesexpressed their joy in leaves. 

 "The bobolink, on the mullein-stalk, Would rattle away like a sweet girl's talk. "

The frogs took severe colds, but gave concerts a little way out of thecity every evening. The little flowers peeped up from their beds, asNorah said, "like babies asking to be took;" and Susy took them;whenever she could find them, you may be sure, and looked joyfully intotheir faces. She could almost say, --

 "And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. "

She said, "I don't suppose they know much, but _perhaps_ they knowenough to have a good time: who knows?"

Susy took long walks to Westbrook, and farther, coming home tired out, but loaded with precious flowers. There were plenty of friends to givethem to her from their early gardens: broad-faced crocuses, jonquils, and lilies of the valley, and by and by lilacs, with "purple spikes. "

She gathered snowdrops, "the first pale blossoms of the unripenedyear, " and May-flowers, pink and white, like sea-shells, or like"cream-candy, " as Prudy said. These soft little blossoms blushed sosweetly on the same leaf with such old experienced leaves! Susy said, "it made her think of little bits of children who hadn't any mother, andlived with their grandparents. "

Dotty was almost crazy with delight when she had a "new pair o' boots, and a pair o' shaker, " and was allowed to toddle about on the pavementin the sunshine. She had a green twig or a switch to flourish, and couldnow cry, "Hullelo!" to those waddling ducks, and hear them reply, "Quack! quack!" without having such a trembling fear that some sternNorah, or firm mamma, would rush out bareheaded, and drag her into thehouse, like a little culprit. 

It was good times for Dotty Dimple, and good times for the whole family. Spring had come, and Prudy was getting well. There was a great deal tothank God for!

It is an evening in the last of May. A bit of a moon, called "the newmoon, " is peeping in at the window. It shines over Susy's rightshoulder, she says. Susy is reading, Prudy is walking slowly across thefloor, and Dotty Dimple is whispering to her kitty, telling her to godown cellar, and catch the naughty rats while they are asleep. Whenkitty winks, Dotty thinks it the same as if she said, --

"I hear you, little Miss Dotty: I'm going. "

I think perhaps this is a good time to bid the three little girlsgood-by, or, as dear grandma Read would say, "Farewell!"