“It isn’t for Santa Claus at all, darling it is for my papa and mamma’s wedding.  To stand up, so they can be married over again.  Now kiss me, and let me go.”

“Her’s goin’ home to Kismus pie,” remarked Katie, as she took her mournful way with her mamma to the house where they were visiting.  She did not know what a wedding might be, but was sure it had pies in it.

“There goes a right smart little girl,” said Horace, with a sweep of his thumb towards the Cleveland cars.  “If it wasn’t for Prudy, I should like her better than any other cousin I have in the world.”

“She is an engaging child,” replied his mother, “and really seems to be outgrowing her naughty ways.”

Thus, you see, Dotty Dimple, in coming away from Indiana, had left in the minds of her friends only “golden opinions.”  Perhaps she was rather overrated.  Everything had gone well with her during her visit; why should she not be pleasant and happy?  I am inclined to think there was the same old naughtiness in her heart, only just now it was asleep.  We shall see.

Nothing remarkable occurred on the homeward journey, except that Mr. Parlin bought some gold-fishes in Boston, and carried them home as a present to Mrs. Read.  They travelled one night in a sleeping-car, and by that means reached Portland a day earlier than they were expected.

Dotty hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry for this.  There was a great deal to be said on both sides of the question.  She had anticipated the pleasure of being met at the depot by Susy and Prudy, and now that was not to be thought of; but it would be delightful to give the family a surprise.  On the whole, she was very well satisfied.

As they drove up to the new home, however, what was their astonishment to find it closed!  There was not even a window open, or any other sign that the house was inhabited.  Dotty ran to every door, and shook it.

“Why, papa, papa, do you s’pose there’s anybody dead?”

“The probability is, Alice, that they have gone away.  I will run over to Mrs. Prosser’s, and see if she knows anything about it.”

Mrs. Prosser was the nearest neighbor on the left.  Her little daughter came to the door in tears, having hurt herself against a trunk in the hall.

“Miss Carrie,” said Mr. Parlin, “can you tell me where Mrs. Parlin and the rest of the family are gone?”

“Yes, Caddy Prosser, the house is shut up,” added Dotty, “and I’m afraid they’re dead.”

“I don’t know where they’re gone, nor anything,” sobbed Carrie.  “I didn’t know the trunk was in the entry, and I came so fast I fell right over it.”

“I am very sorry you are hurt,” said Mr. Parlin.  “Is your mother at home?”

“No, sir, she isn’t; her trunk came, but she didn’t.”

There was no information to be obtained at the Prossers’; so Mr. Parlin went to Mr. Lawrence’s, the nearest neighbor on the right, making the same inquiries; but all he learned was, that a carriage had been seen standing at Mr. Parlin’s door; who had gone away in it nobody could tell.