Adolphus paused, expecting to be questioned; but Dotty maintained a discreet silence.

“The water is a very bright red, I know; but I never could believe that story about the giant’s having the nose-bleed, and coloring the whole sea with blood.  Did you ever hear of that?”

“No, I never,” replied Dotty, gravely.  “You needn’t tell it, Dollyphus.  I’m too tired to talk.”

Adolphus felt rather piqued as the little girl turned away her head and steadily gazed out of the window at the trees and houses flying by.  It appeared very much as if she suspected he had been making sport of her.

“She isn’t a perfect ignoramus, after all.” he thought; “that last lie was a little too big.”

After this he sat for some time watching his little companion, anxious for an opportunity to assure her that these absurd stories had been spun out of his own brain.  But Dotty never once turned her face towards him.  She was thinking,—­

“P’rhaps he’s a good boy; p’rhaps he’s a naughty boy:  but I shan’t believe him till I ask my father.”

At Portsmouth, Captain Lally and son left the cars, much to Dotty’s relief, though they did carry away the beautiful Spanish rabbit; and it seemed to the child as if a piece of her heart went with it.

“Is my little girl tired?” said Mr. Parlin, putting an arm around Dotty.

“No, papa, only I’m thinking.  The north pole is top of the world—­isn’ it?  As much as five hundred miles off?”

“A great deal farther than that, my dear.”

“There, I thought so!  And we couldn’t hear ’em pound it down with an axe—­could we?  That isn’t what makes thunder?  O, what a boy!”

Mr. Parlin laughed heartily.

“Did Adolphus tell you such a story as that?”

“Yes, sir, he did,” cried Dotty, indignantly, “and said there was a dipper to it, with a handle on, as large as a tub.  And a man tied it that came from I-don’t-know-where, and found this world.  I know that wasn’t true, for he didn’t say anything about Adam and Eve.  What an awful boy!”

“What did you say to Adolphus?” said Mr. Parlin, still laughing.  “Hadn’t you been putting on airs?  And wasn’t that the reason he made sport of you?”

“I don’t know what ‘airs’ are, papa.”

“Perhaps you told him, for instance, that you were travelling out West, and asked him if he ever went so far as that.”

“Perhaps I did,” stammered Dotty.

“And it is very likely you made the remark that you had the whole care of yourself, and know how to part your hair in the middle.  I did not listen; but it is possible you told him you could play on the piano.”

Dotty looked quite ashamed.

“This is what we call ‘putting on airs.’  Adolphus was at first rather quiet and unpretending.  Didn’t you think he might be a little stupid?  And didn’t you wish to give him the idea that you yourself were something of a fine lady?”