Dotty Dimple's Flyaway Part 16

So that was settled; and Flyaway decided to write off the whole story, and send to her father--a mixture of little sharp zigzags, curves, and dots. When Horace asked her what these meant, she said "she couldn't 'member now; but papa would know."

There was another matter which troubled grandma Parlin somewhat. Dotty had gone to the store, after dinner, with two ten-cent pieces in her porte-monnaie. She had bought for herself some jujube paste, but in returning had lost the other dime.

"Grandma, do you think that is fair?" said Prudy. "She has lost my money, but she doesn't care at all; only laughs. I was going to put it with some more I had, and buy mother a collar."

"No, it is not right," replied grandma. "I will talk with her, and try to make her willing to give you some of hers in return."

Ah, grandma Parlin, you little knew what you were undertaking when you called Dotty Dimple into the back parlor next morning, and began to talk about that money! Children's minds are strange things. They are like bottles with very small necks; and when you pour in an idea, you must pour very slowly, a drop at a time, or it all runs over. Dotty did not know much more about money than Flyaway.

"My child," said her grandmother, "it seems you have lost something which belonged to Prudy."

Dotty looked up carelessly from the picture of a rose she held in her hand, which she meant to adorn with yellow paint.

"O, yes 'm; you mean that money."

"There are several things you don't know, Dotty; and one is, that you have no right to lose other people's things."

"No 'm."

"The money you dropped out of your porte-monnaie, yesterday, was Prudy's, not yours; and what are you going to do about it?"

"Let me see; my mother'll come to-morrow; I'll ask her to give me some more."

"But is that right? Dotty lost the money; must not Dotty be the one to give it back?"

"O, grandma, I can't find it! The wind blew it away, or a horse stepped on it. I can't find it, certainly."

"No; but you have money of your own. You can give some of that to Prudy."

"Why-ee!" moaned Dotty. "Prudy's got ever so much. O, grandma, she has; and my box is so empty it can't but just jingle."

"But, my dear, that has nothing to do with the case. If Prudy has a great deal of money, you have no right to lose any of it. Don't you think you ought to give it back?"

"O, no, grandma--I don't; because she doesn't need it! I wish she'd give _me_ ten cents, for I do need it; I haven't but a tinty, tonty mite."

Here Dotty threw herself on the sofa, the picture of despair. Grandma was perplexed. Had she been pouring ideas into Dotty's mind too fast?

What should she say next?

"My dear little girl, suppose Prudy should lose some of your money--what then?"

"I shouldn't like it at all, grandma. Don't let her go to my box--will you?"

"Selfish little girl!" said grandma, looking keenly at Dotty's troubled face. "You would expect Prudy to return every cent, if she were in your place."

"Because--because--grandma--"

"Yes; and when I explain your duty to you, you don't understand me.

You would understand if you were not so selfis.h.!.+"

Dotty winced.

"Don't come to me again, and complain of Jennie Vance."

Dotty could not meet her grandmother's searching gaze: it seemed to cut into her heart like a sharp blade.

"Am I as bad as Jennie Vance? Yes, just us bad; and grandma knows it.

But then," said she aloud, though very faintly, "Prudy needn't have put it in my porte-monnaie; she might have known I'd lose it."

"Dotty, I am not going to say any more about it now. You may think it over to-day, and decide for yourself whether you are following the Golden Rule. Or, if you choose, you may wait and talk with your mother."

"Yes 'm." Dotty was glad to escape into the kitchen.

CHAPTER XI.

AUNT POLLY'S STORY.

Flyaway sat on the kitchen floor, feeding Dinah with a roasted apple.

As often as Dinah refused a teaspoonful, she put it into her own mouth, saying, with a wise nod, "My child, she's sick; hasn't any _applet.i.te_."

Out of doors it was raining heartily. It seemed as if the "upper deep"

was tipping over, and pouring itself into the lap of the earth.

"O, Ruthie," sighed Dotty Dimple, "my mother won't come while it's such weather. Do you s'pose 'twill ever clear off?" [Blank Page]

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLYAWAY AND DINAH.]

"Yes, I do," replied Ruth, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a pie briskly; "it only began last night at five."

"Why, Ruthie Dillon! it began three weeks ago, by the clock! Don't you know that day I couldn't go visiting? Only sometimes it stops a while, and then begins again."

"If you're going to have the blues, Miss Dotty, I'll thank you kindly just to take yourself out of this kitchen. Polly Whiting is here, and she is as much as a body can endures in this dull weather."

"It's pitiful 'bout the rain, Dotty; but you mustn't scold when G.o.d sended it," said Flyaway, dropping the feeble Dinah, and pursuing her cousin round the room with a pin. In a minute they were both laughing gayly, till Flyaway caught herself on her little rocking-chair, and "got a _torn_ in her ap.r.o.n." That ended the sport.

"What shall I do to make myself happy?" said Dotty, musingly; for she wished to put off all thought of Prudy's money. "I should like to roll out some thimble-cookies, but Ruthie hasn't much patience this morning. I never dare do things when her lips are squeezed together so."

But Flyaway dared do things. She took up the kitty, and played to her on the "music," till Ruth's ears were "on edge." After this the harmonica fell into a dish of soft soap, and in cleaning it with ashes and a sponge, the holes became stopped.

"It won't _muse_ no more," said Flyaway, in sad surprise, blowing into the keys in vain. Ruth loved the little child too well to say she was glad of it.

Flyaway's next dash was into the sink cupboard, where she found a wooden bowl of sand. This she dragged out, and filling her "nipperkin"

with water, carried them both to Ruth, saying, in her sweet, pleading way,--

"_If_ you please, Ruthie, will you tell _how_ G.o.d does when he takes the 'little drops of water and little grains of sand,' and makes 'the mighty _oshum_' with um, '_and_ the pleasant land'?"