“O, dear! dear! dear!  I didn’t know your hair was so tender!”

The major had been crowding his handkerchief into his mouth; but at this he could no longer restrain himself, nor could Mr. Parlin help joining in the laugh.

[Illustration:  THE MAJOR’S JOKE.  Page 78.]

The little girl was more bewildered than ever.  She put her hand to her own head, to make sure it was safe, for it felt as airy as a dandelion top.

Then Major Lazelle explained to her in a few words what a wig is, and how it is fastened to the head.  Dotty understood it all in a moment, but was too much chagrined to make any reply.

“I am several years younger than your papa, my dear; so you think it strange to see me bald; but I have had two dreadful fevers, and they have run away with every bit of my hair.”

Dotty would not even look up to see Major Lazelle replace his wig.  Her dignity had been wounded.

“Come, sit on my knee, Pussy, and let me tell you some more about it.”

“No, I thank you, sir,” replied she, walking the floor with the air of an injured princess.  “No, I thank you, sir.”

“How, now, little one?  You don’t mean to be angry with me for a little joke?”

“No, I thank you.”

And that was all Dotty would say.  She was wise enough to know she was too angry to speak.

“Ah, ha! temper, I see!” thought Major Lazelle; “I did not suspect it from that quarter.”

If the young gentleman had only known how hard the little girl was struggling just then to control herself, he would have liked her better than ever.

Her father chided her next morning for taking a joke so seriously.  Dotty replied with a deep sigh,—­

“Papa, that major ’sposes I’m only five years old!  That’s what Dollyphus s’posed!  I don’t like it, papa, when I can travel so well; and how’d I know what a wig was, well; you and mamma never had any?”

But Dotty smiled as benevolently as she could when she met the major again.  He was a little afraid of her, however.  He did not enjoy playing with her as he had enjoyed it before.  He now felt obliged to be on his guard, lest she should take offence.

The rest of her journey—­though Dotty did not know it—­was not quite so delightful as it might have been if she had only laughed with good humor when the lively major let her pull his hair out by the roots.

But the cars went “singing through the forest, and rattling over ridges,” till it was time to part from the pleasant man with a wig.  Then they went on, “shooting under arches, rambling over bridges,” till Dotty and her papa had come to their journey’s end.  We will say it was the town of Quinn.

CHAPTER VI.

NEW FACES.

The Cliffords lived a little way out of town.  Mr. Parlin took a carriage at the depot, and he and Dotty had a very pleasant drive to “Aunt ’Ria’s.”