“I’m glad Johnny was born to-day instead of to-morrow,” said Prudy, “for to-morrow we wouldn’t go out of the house for anything, auntie.”

“I can seem to see cousin Dimple,” said Percy; “she’ll carry her head higher than ever.”

Prudy cast upon the youth as strong a look of disapproval as her gentle face could express.

“Percy, you mustn’t talk so about Dotty.  She is my sister.  She isn’t so very proud; but if I was as handsome as she is, I should be proud too.”

“O, no; she is very meek—­Dimple is; just like a little lamb.  Don’t you remember that verse she used to repeat?—­

’But, chillens, you should never let
  Your naughty ankles rise;
Your little hands were never made
  To tear each uzzer’s eyes—­out.’”

“If she’s cross, it’s because you and Johnny tease her so,” said Prudy.  “I think it’s a shame.”

Percy only laughed.  He and Prudy were sitting in the doorway, arranging bouquets for the dinner-table.  Susy joined them, bearing in her hands some dahlias and tuberoses.

“Why, Prudy,” said she, “what makes your face all aflame?”

“She has been fighting for your little dove of a sister,” replied Percy; “the one that went West to finish her education.”

This speech only deepened the color in Prudy’s face, though she tried hard to subdue her anger, and closed her lips with the firm resolve not to open them again till she could speak pleasantly.

“Look!” exclaimed Percy; “there’s a carriage turning the corner.  Why, it’s Dimple herself and uncle Edward!”

“It can’t be!”

“It is!”

Both little girls ran to the gate.

“O, father!  O, Dotty!  Why, when did you get home?”

By this time Mrs. Parlin had come out:  also Mrs. Eastman and Johnny.  Everybody was as surprised and delighted as possible; and even Miss Dimple, sitting in state in the coach, was perfectly satisfied, and condescended to alight, instead of riding through the carriage gateway.

“O, Dotty Dimple, I’m so glad to see you!” cried Prudy.

“It is my sister Alice,
  And she is grown so dear, so dear,
That I would be the jewel
  That trembles at her ear,—­

only you don’t wear ear-rings, you know.”

“Are you glad to see me, though, Prudy?  Then what made you go off and shut the house up?”

“O, we didn’t expect you till to-morrow; and it’s Johnny’s birthday.  Dinner is almost ready; aren’t you glad?  Such a dinner, too!”

“Any bill of fare?” asked Dotty, with a sudden recollection of past grandeur.

“A bill of fare?  O, no; those are for hotels.  But there’s almost everything else.  Now you can go up stairs with me, and wash your face.”

Dotty appeared at table with smooth hair and a fresh ruffle which Prudy had basted in the neck of her dress.  She looked very neat and prim, and, as Percy had predicted, carried her head higher than ever.