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Page 11
"I didn't mean to scold you, child," called the woman after her; "only
you might have killed my baby, and I think you're big enough to know
better."
This last sentence, spoken more gently, was intended to heal all wounds;
but it had no such effect. Dotty was sure everybody had heard it, and
was more ashamed than ever. She had never before met with any one so ill
bred as Mrs. Lovejoy. She supposed her own conduct had been almost
criminal, whereas Mrs. Lovejoy was really much more at fault than
herself. A woman who has no tenderness for a well-meaning little girl,
no forgiveness for her thoughtless mistakes, can never be regarded as a
lady.
Thus, for the second time that day, Dotty had met with misfortune.
Her father knew nothing of what had occurred, and she had not much to
say when he offered a penny for her thoughts.
"I oughtn't to have given that baby any corn," said she, briefly; "but
he didn't choke long."
"Where are your gloves, child?"
Dotty looked in her pocket, and shook her head.
"You must have left them in the seat you were in. You'd better go after
them, my daughter, and then come back and brush your hair."
"O, papa, I'd rather go to Indiana with my hands naked. That woman
doesn't like me."
Mr. Parlin gave a glance at the wretched little face, and went for the
gloves himself. They were not to be found, though Mrs. Lovejoy was very
polite indeed to assist in the search. They had probably fallen out of
the window.
"Don't take it to heart, my little Alice," said Mr. Parlin, who was very
sorry to see so many shadows on his young daughter's face so early in
the day. "We'll buy a new pair in Boston. We will think of something
pleasant. Let us see: when are you going to read your first letter?"
"O, Susy said the very last thing before I got to Boston. You'll tell me
when it's the very last thing? I'm so glad Susy wrote it! for now I can
be 'expecting it all the rest of the way."
CHAPTER IV.
"PIGEON PIE POSTPONED."
This is Susy's letter, which lay in Mr. Parlin's pocket-book,
and which he gave his impatient little daughter fifteen minutes before
the cars stopped:--
"MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER: This is for you to read when you
have almost got to Boston; and it is a story, because I know you
will be tired.
"Once there was a wolf--I've forgotten what his name was. At the
same time there were some men, and they were monks. Monks have
their heads shaved. They found this wolf. They didn't see why he
wouldn't make as good a monk as anybody. They tied him and then
they wanted him to say his prayers, patter, patter, all in Latin.
"He opened his mouth, and then they thought it was coming; but what
do you think? All he said was, 'Lamb! lamb!' And he looked where
the woods were.
"So they couldn't make a monk of him, because he wanted to eat
lambs, and he wouldn't say his prayers.
"Mother read that to me out of a blue book.
"Good by, darling. From
"SISTER SUSY."
"What do you think of that?" said Mr. Parlin, as he finished reading the
letter aloud.
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