“Florence and Percy, you are both very thoughtless,” said Mrs. Eastman, reprovingly.

Mrs. Parlin looked deeply pained, as she always did when her little daughter gave way to her temper; but she made no allusion to the subject, and tried to go on with her dinner as if nothing had happened.

Dotty ran into the front yard, threw herself on the ground, and buried her face in a verbena bed.

There! it wasn’t of any use; she couldn’t be good; it wouldn’t last!  When she had just come home, and had so many things to tell, and supposed everybody would be glad to see her and hear her talk,—­why, Percy and Florence must just spoil it all by laughing.  O, it was too bad!

“I wish I hadn’t come!  I wish I’d been switched off!” sighed Dotty, meaning, if she meant anything, that she wished the cars had whirled her away to the ends of the earth, instead of bringing her home, where people were all ready with one accord to trample her into the dust.

“Here I’ve been ’way off, and know how to travel, and keep my ticket in my glove.  Six years old, going on seven.  Been down in a coal mine,—­Prudy never’d dare to.  Had a jigger cut out of my side.  Been to the ’Sylum.  One of the conductors said, ’That’s a fine little daughter of yours, sir.’  I heard him.  Aunt ’Ria washed all those grease-spots out of my dress, and I had on a clean ruffle.  And then, just ’cause I couldn’t say coker-whacker—­”

“There, there, don’t feel so bad, you precious sister,” said a soothing voice; and a soft cheek was pressed to Dotty’s, and a pair of loving arms clasped her close.  “Percy was real too-bad, and so was Flossy—­so there!”

“O, Prudy, I wish they were every one of ’em in the penitential, locked in, and Johnny too!  Me just got home, and never did a single thing to them!  And there they laughed right in my face!”

“But you know, dear, they don’t think,” said Prudy, who found it unsafe to sympathize too much with her angry sister; “they never do think; they don’t mean any harm.”

“I’ll make ’em think!” cried Dotty, fiercely.  “I’ll scare ’em so they’ll think!  I’ll take a pumpkin, and I’ll take a watermelon, and I’ll take—­”

“Dear me, Dotty, that is a beautiful ring on your finger.  I wish I had one just like it.”

Dotty cast a suspicious glance at her sister.

“Don’t you try to pacify ME, Prudy Parlin.”

Prudy held a handful of southernwood to her nose, and smiled behind it.

“This isn’t temper, Prudy Parlin, ’cause you said your own self they ’bused me.”

“Such a cunning little pearl!” remarked Prudy, still admiring the ring; “how glad I should be if you’d wish it on to my finger, Dotty!”

“They ’bused me, Prudy Parlin, and you know it.”

“Only till night, Dotty Dimple.  Just wish it on till night.”

“Well, there,” exclaimed Dotty, at last; “hold out your finger if you can’t stop teasing.  But I haven’t any temper, and you needn’t act just’s if you’s trying to pacify me.”