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Page 18
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."
The little girl was rather travel-stained. Her gloves were somewhat
ragged at the tips, from her habit of twitching them so much; and they
were also badly soiled with fruit and candy. Her hair was as smooth as
hands could make it; but alas for the "style" hat which had left
Portland in triumph! It had reached Indiana in disgrace. Its tipsy
appearance was due to getting stepped on, and being caught in showers.
Dotty's neat travelling dress was defaced by six large grease spots.
Where they had come from Dotty could not conjecture, unless "that sick
lady with a bottle had spilled some of her cod-oil on it out of a
spoon."
The child had intended to astonish her relatives by her tidy array; but,
after all her pains, she had arrived out West in a very sorry plight.
"Now, which side must I look for the house, papa?"
"At your right hand, my dear. The first thing you will see is the
conservatory, and then a stone house."
"My right hand," thought Dotty; "that's east; but which is my right
hand?"
She always knew after she had thought a moment. It was the one which did
not have the "shapest thumb;" that is, the _misshapen_ one she had
pounded once by mistake, instead of an oilnut.
"O, yes, papa! See the flowers! the flowers! And only to think they
don't know who's coming! P'rhaps they're drinking tea, or gone visiting,
or something."
The Cliffords were not at tea. Grace and Cassy were reading "Our Boys
and Girls" in the summer-house, with their heads close together; Horace
was in the woods fishing; Mr. Clifford at his office; his wife in her
chamber, ruffling a pink cambric frock for wee Katie, rocking as she
sewed.
As for Katie, she was marching about the grounds under an old umbrella.
It was only the skeleton of an umbrella--dry bones, wires, and a crooked
handle. Through the open sides the little one was plainly to be seen;
and Mr. Parlin thought she looked like that flower we have in our
gardens, which peeps out from a host of little tendrils, and is called
the "lady in the bower."
Hearing a carriage coming, the "lady in the bower" rushed to the gate,
flourishing the black bones of the umbrella directly in the horse's
face.
"Dotty has camed! She has camed!" shouted the little creature, dropping
the umbrella, falling over it, springing up again, and running with
flying feet to spread the news.
Nobody believed Dotty had "camed;" it seemed an improbable story; but
Grace and Cassy had heard the wheels, and they ran through the avenue
into the house to make sure it was nobody but one of the neighbors.
"Why, indeed, and indeed, it _is_ Dotty; and if here isn't Uncle Edward
too!" cried Grace, tossing back her curls, and dancing down the front
steps. "Ma, ma, here is Uncle Edward Parlin!"
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