“What did my mamma send me here for?  She ought to said it over twice.  Any way, Norah, now I think of it, I wish you please wouldn’t starch my aprons on the inside; starch ’em on the outside, ’cause they rub against my neck.”

“Go back and see what your mamma wants,” said Norah, laughing.

“Why, mamma,” cried Dotty reappearing in the parlor quite crestfallen—­” why, mamma, I went right up to Norah to ask her, and asked her something else.  My head spins dreadfully.”

Mrs. Parlin repeated the message; and Dotty delivered it this time correctly, adding,—­

“Now, Norah, I’m all dressed for dinner; so I can do something for you just as well as not.  Such days as, this, when you have so much to do, you ought to let me help.”

To Dotty’s surprise Norah found this suggestion rather amusing.

“For mercy’s sake,” said she, “I have got my hands full now; and when you are round, Miss Dotty, and have one of your good fits, it seems as if I should fly.”

“What do you mean by a good fit?”

“Why, you have spells, child—­you know you do—­when butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.”

“Do I?” said Dotty.  “I thought butter always melted in anybody’s mouth.  Does it make my mouth cold to be good, d’ye s’pose?”

“La, me, I don’t know,” replied the girl, washing a potato vigorously.

“I might wash those potatoes,” said Dotty, plucking Norah’s sleeve; “do you put soap on them?”

“Not much soap—­no.”

“Well, then, Norah, you shouldn’t put any soap on them; that’s why I asked; for my mother just washes and rinses ’em; that’s the proper way.”

“For pity’s sake,” said Norah, giving the little busybody a good-natured push.  “What’s going on in the parlor, Miss Dotty?  You’d better run and see.  If you should go in there and look out of the window, perhaps a monkey would come along with an organ.”

“No, he wouldn’t, Norah, and if he did, Prudy’d let me know.”

As Dotty spoke she was employed in slicing an onion, while the tears ran down her cheeks; but a scream from Norah caused her to drop the knife.

“Why, what is it?” said Dotty.

“Ugh!  It’s some horrid little animil crawling down my neck.”

“Let me get him,” cried Dotty, seizing a pin, and rushing at poor Norah, who tried in vain to ward off the pin and at the same time catch the spider.

“Will you let me alone, child?”

“No, no; I want the bug myself,” cried Dotty, pricking Norah on the cheek.

“Want the bug?”

“Yes; mayn’t I stick him through with a pin from ear to ear?  I know a lady Out West that’s making a c’lection of bugs.”

“Well, here he is, then; and a pretty scrape I’ve had catching him; thanks be to you all the same, Miss Dimple.”

As it turned out to be only a hair-pin, Dotty shook her head in disdain, and went on slicing onions.