Dotty Dimple at Play - Sophie May
What did they mean? What had happened to Dotty Dimple, that her own
father and mother did not know her?
She looked down at the skirt of her dress, at her gaiters, at her little
bare hands, to make sure no wicked fairy had changed her. Not that she
suspected any such thing. She understood but too well what her father
and mother meant. They knew her, but had not chosen to recognize her,
because they were displeased.
Dotty's little heart, the swelling of which had net gone down at all
during the night, now ached terribly. She covered her face with her
hands, and groaned aloud.
"Don't," said Mandoline, touched with pity. "They no business to
treat you so."
"O, Lina, don't you talk! You don't know anything about it. You never had
such a father'n mother's they are! And now they won't let me come into
the house!"
This wail of despair would have melted Mrs. Parlin if she could have
heard it. It was only because she thought it necessary to be severe that
she had consented to do as her husband advised, and turn coldly away
from her dear little daughter. Dotty was a loving child, in spite of her
disobedience, and this treatment was almost more than she could bear. She
found no consolation in talking with Lina, for she knew Lina could not
understand her feelings.
"She hasn't any Susy and Prudy at her house, nor no _anything_" thought
Dotty. "If I lived with Mrs. Rosenberg and that dog, I'd want to be
locked out; I'd ask if I couldn't. But, O, my darling mamma! I've been
naughty too many times! When I'd been naughty fifty, sixty, five hundred
times, then she forgave me; but now she can't forgive me any more; it
isn't possible."
Dotty staggered against a girl who was drawing a baby-carriage, but
recovered herself.
"It isn't possible to forgive me any more. She told me not to go on the
water, and I went. She told me not to have temper, and I had it. Every
single thing she's told me not to do, I always went and did it. She said,
'I do not wish you to play with Lina Rosenberg;' and then I went right
off and played with her. I didn't have a bit good time; but that's
nothing. She hided my hat--Lina did; but if I'd gone home, straight home,
and not gone to her house, then she couldn't have hided it.
"I was naughty; I was real naughty; I was as naughty as King Herod and
King Pharaoh. Nobody'll ever love me. I'm a poor _orphanless_ child! I've
got a father'n mother, but it's just the same as if I didn't, for they
won't let me call 'em by it. O, they didn't die, but they won't be any
father'n mother to ME!
"'What strange little girl is this?' that's what my papa said. '_ Looks_
like my daughter Alice!' O, I wish I could die!"
"Come, come," said Lina; "let's go home. Mother said you and I might have
some macaroni cakes and lager beer, if we wouldn't let the rest of 'em
see us at it."
"I don't care anything about your _locker_ beer, Lina Rosenberg, nor your
whiskey and tobacco pipes, either. Nor neither, nor nothing," added the
desolate child, standing "stock still," with the back of her head against
a pile of bricks, her eyes closed, and her hands folded across her bosom.
"There, there; you're a pretty sight now, Dotty Dimple! What if you
should freeze so! Come along and behave."
"I can't, I can't!"
"If you don't, Dotty, I'll have to go into that barber's shop. I know the
man, and I'll make him carry you home _piggerback_"
"Well, if I've got to go, I'll go," said Dotty, rousing herself,
and starting; "but I'd rather be dead, over'n over; and wish I was;
so there!"
CHAPTER VIII.
PLAYING THIEF.
This day was the longest one to be found in the almanac; it was longer
than all the line of railroad from Maine to Indiana and back again.
Dotty shut her lips together, and suffered in silence. But when the
afternoon was half spent, it suddenly occurred to her that if she did not
go home she should die. Soldiers had died of homesickness, for she had
heard her father say so. She had not been able to swallow a mouthful of
dinner, and that fact was of itself rather alarming.
"Perhaps I'm going to have the _typo_. Any way, my head aches. Besides,
my papa didn't say I _mustn't_ go home. He said I must finish my visit,
and I _have_. O, I've finished _that_ all up, ever and ever and ever so
long ago."
She and Mandoline went out again to "breathe," Mrs. Rosenberg giving her
daughter a warning glance from the doorway, which meant, "Be watchful,
Mandy!" for the look of fixed despair on the little prisoner's face gave
the woman some anxiety lest she should try to escape.
The unhappy child walked on in silence, twisting a lock of her front
hair, and looking up at the sky. A few soft snow-flakes were dropping out
of the clouds. Every flake seemed to fall on her heart. Winter was
coming. It was a gray, miserable world, and she was left out in the cold.
She remembered she had been happy once, but that was ages ago. It wasn't
likely she should ever smile again; and as for laughter, she knew that
was over with her forever. Susy and Prudy were at home, making book-marks
and cologne mats; _they_ could smile, for they hadn't run away.
"I shouldn't think my mamma'd care if I went in at the back door,"
thought Dotty, meekly. "If she locks me out, I can lie down on the steps
and freeze."
But the question was, how to get away from Mandoline, who had her in
charge like a sharp-eyed sheriff.
"That's the street I turn to go to my house--isn't it, Lina?" asked
she, quickly.
"I shan't tell you, Dotty Dimple. Why do you ask?"
"'Cause I'm going home. I'm sick. Good by."
"But you musn't go a step, Dotty Dimple."
"Yes, I shall; you're not my mamma, Lina Rosenberg; you mustn't tell me
what to do."
"Well, I'm going everywhere you go, Dotty, but I shan't say whether it's
the way to your house, or the way to Boston; and _you_ don't know."
Dotty was not to be so easily baffled.
"I don't know myself, Lina Rosenberg, but if you're so mean as not to
tell, I can ask somebody else that _will_ tell--don't you see?"
This was a difficulty which Lina had not provided for. She was very sorry
Dotty had come out "to breathe."
Very soon they overtook a lady, who pointed out the right street to
Dotty; and it was in an opposite direction from the one she was taking.
"Now I've found out, Miss Rosenberg, and you can't help yourself."
"Well, I shall go with you, Dotty, just the same. I shall go right up to
your house, and tell your mother you've run away _again_"
It was very disagreeable to Miss Dimple to be pursued in this way; but
she put on an air of defiance.
"I shouldn't think you'd want to go where you wasn't wanted, Miss
Rosenberg."
Lina had never intended to do such a thing; she had not courage enough.
"O, dear! what shall I do to make you go back with me? My mother'll scold
me awfully for letting you get away."
"Well, there; you've got the dreadfulest mother, Lina, and I'm real
sorry; but it's no use to tease me; I wouldn't go back, not if you should
cut me up into little pieces as big as a cent."
Lina was ready to fall upon her knees, right on the pavement. She
offered Dotty paper dolls enough to people a colony; but Miss Dimple was
as firm as a rock, now her face was once set towards home. Lina turned on
her heel, and slowly walked away. Dotty called after her:--
"There, Lina, now you've told an awful story! You said you'd go to my
house, and tell my mother I'd run away again; and now you don't dare go;
so you've told an awful wicked story."
With this parting thrust at her tormentor, Dotty turned again to the
misery of her own thoughts. Her home was already in sight; but the
uncertainty as to her reception there made her little feet falter in
their course. Her head sank lower and lower, till her chin snuggled into
the hollow of her neck, and her eyes peered out keenly from under her
hat, to make sure no one was watching. There was a door-yard on one
side of the house. She touched the gate-latch as gently as if it had
been a loaded gun, and crept noiselessly along to the side door. Here
she paused. Her heart throbbed loudly; but, in spite of that, she could
hear Norah walking about, and rattling the covers of the stove, as she
put in coal.
Dotty's courage failed. What if Norah should make believe she didn't know
her, and shut the door in her face?
"I can't see Norah, and hear her say, 'What strange little girl is this?
It _looks_ like our Alice; but it can't be any such a child!' No, I can't
see anybody. I've finished my visit; I have a right to come home; but
p'rhaps they won't think so. I feel's if I wasn't half so good as
tea-grounds, or coffee-grounds, or potato-skins," continued she, with a
pang of despair. "I know what I'll do; I'll go down cellar; that's where
the rats stay; and if I _am_ bad, I hope I'm as good as a rat, for I
don't bite."
One of the cellar windows had been left out in order to admit coal.
Through this window crept Dotty, regardless of her white stockings and
crimson dress. When she had fairly got her head through the opening, and
was no longer afraid of being seen, she breathed more freely.
"Here I am! Not a bit of me out. But I must go on my tipsy-toes, or
they'll hear me, and think it's a _buggler_"
There was quite a steep hill to walk over, and she found it anything
but a path of roses. Once or twice she stumbled and fell upon her hands
and knees.
"Seems to me," said she, drawing out her foot, which had sunk above the
ankle in coal,--"seems to me I have as many feet as a caterpillar."
But she kept on, down the Hill of Difficulty, till she reached solid
ground. It was not a very cheerful apartment, that is certain. The light
had much difficulty in getting in at the little windows, and when it did
fight its way through it was not good for much; it was a gloomy light,
and looked as if it had had a hard time.
Dotty went up to the furnace for comfort. It was a tall, black thing,
doing its best to give warmth and cheer to the rooms up stairs, but it
was of no use to the cellar. It was like some brilliant people, who shine
in society, but are dull and stupid at home. Dotty opened the furnace
door, and tried to warm her cold fingers.
"Why, my hands are as black as a _sip_," sighed she; as if she could have
expected anything else.
There did not seem to be one ray of hope in her little dark soul. She
had no tears to shed,--she seldom had,--but when she was in trouble, she
was always in the lowest depths.
"Pretty well for me to make believe I was a thief, and was going to
steal! 'Who is this strange little girl?' said he; 'it _looks_ like--'"
She heard voices near the cellar door. What if Norah should come down
after butter? Dotty was not prepared for that. She could not hide in the
keg of lard, of course; and what _should_ she do?
"My head is tipside up; I can't think." Then she began to wonder how long
she could live down there, in case she was not discovered.
"I s'pose I can climb up on the swing shelf, and sleep there nights. I
can hide behind things in the daytime, and when I'm hungry I can eat out
of the jars and boxes."
The sound of voices came down distinctly from the kitchen overhead. Dotty
crouched behind an apple barrel, and listened. Grandma Read was talking
to Mrs. Parlin, who seemed to be in another room.
"Mary, my glasses _are_ gone this time," said she. "If little Alice were
only here, I should set her to hunting."
"She don't know I'm in the house this minute," thought Dotty; "no,
_under_ the house. Dear me!"
With that she walked softly up the stairs, and listened at the
door-latch; for the sound of her grandmother's voice was encouraging, and
Dotty, in her loneliness, longed to be near the dear people of the
family, even if she could not see them.
"Edward," said her mother,--what music there was in her voice!--"if you
are going after that dear child, you'd better take a shawl to wrap her
in, for it is snowing fast. And be sure to tell her we love her dearly,
every one of us, and don't believe she will ever run away again."
"O, was her papa going after her? Did they love her, after all? Were they
willing to keep her in the house?"
Dotty opened the door before she knew it. "O, mamma, mamma!" cried she,
rushing into her mother's arms.
"Why, Dotty, you darling child, where did you come from?" exclaimed Mrs.
Parlin, in great surprise, kissing the little, dirty girl, and taking her
right to her heart, in spite of the coal-dust.
"If you'll let me stay at home," gasped Dotty, "if you'll _let_ me stay
at home, I'll live in the kitchen, and won't go near the table."
"Where _did you_ come from?" said Mr. Parlin, kissing a clean place on
Dotty's black face, and laughing under his breath.
"I came through the cellar window, papa."
"Through the cellar window, child?"
"Yes, papa; I didn't s'pose you'd care!"
"Care! My dear, your mother is the one to care! Just look at your
stockings!"
"There was coal there, thrown in," said Dotty, with a quivering lip;
"and I had to walk over it, and under it, and through it."
"Was my little daughter afraid to come in by the door?"
"I didn't know's you wanted me, papa.
"I thought you'd say, 'What strange child is this?'"
Mr. Parlin, looking at the black streaks on Dotty's woeful face, found it
very difficult to keep from laughing. "A strange child' she appeared to
be, certainly.
"But I'd got my visit all finished up, ever and ever so long ago."
"So you really chose to come back to us, my dear?"
"O, papa, you don't know! Did you think, did you s'pose--"
Here Dotty broke down completely, and, seizing her father's shirt-bosom
in both her grimy hands, she buried her face in it, and sprinkled it with
tears of ink.
There was great surprise throughout the house when Dotty's arrival
became known.
"We didn't know how to live without you any longer," said Prudy; "and
tomorrow Thanksgiving Day."
"But I never should have come up," said Dotty, "if I hadn't heard mamma
talk about loving me just the same; I never _could_ have come up."
"Excuse me for smiling," said Prudy; "but you look as if you had fallen
into the inkstand. It is _so_ funny!"
Dotty was not at all amused herself; but after she was dressed in clean
clothes, she felt very happy, and enjoyed her supper remarkably well. The
thought that they "didn't know how to live without her" gave a relish to
every mouthful.
It was a delightful evening to the little wanderer. The parlor looked so
cheerful in the rosy firelight that Dotty thought she "would like to kiss
every single thing in the room." It was unpleasant out of doors, and the
wind blew as if all the people in the world were deaf, and must be made
to hear; but Dotty did not mind that. She looked out of the window, and
said to Prudy,--
"Seems as if the wind had blown out all the stars; but no matter--is it?
It is all nice in the house."
Then she dropped the curtain, and went to sit in her mother's lap. Not a
word of reproach had been uttered by any one yet; for it was thought the
child had suffered enough.
"Mamma," said Dotty, laying her tired head on her mother's bosom, "don't
you think I'm like the prodigal's--daughter? Yesterday I felt a whisper
'way down in my mind,--I didn't hear it, but I _felt_ it,--and it said,
'You mustn't disobey your mamma; you mustn't play with Lina Rosenberg!'"
"Only think, my child, if you had only paid attention to that whisper!"
"Yes, mamma, but I tried to forget it, and by and by I did forget
it--almost. There's one thing I know," added Dotty, clasping her hands
together; "I'll never run away again. If I'm going to, I'll catch myself
by the shoulder, and hold on just as hard!"
"My blessed child, I hope so," said Mrs. Parfin, with tears in her eyes
and a stronger faith in her heart than she had felt for many a day that
Dotty really meant to do better. "You don't know how it did distress your
papa and me to have you stay in that house a night and a day; but we
hoped it would prove a lesson to you; we meant it for your best good."
To make sure the lesson would not be forgotten, Prudy read her little
sister a private lecture. She had written it that afternoon with carmine
ink, on the nicest of tinted paper. Dotty received it very humbly, and
laid it away in the rosewood box with her precious things.
* * * * *
PRUDY'S LECTURE.
"We must keep good company, Dotty, or not any at all. This is a fact.
"Even an apple is known by the company it keeps. Grandpa Parlin says if
you put apples in a potato bin, they won't taste like apples--they'll
taste like potatoes.
"Sometimes I think, Dotty, you'd be as good and nice as a
summer-sweeting, if you wouldn't play with naughty children, like Lina
Rosenberg; but if you do, you'll be like a potato, as true as you live.
"Finis."
CHAPTER IX.
THANKSGIVING DAY.
The next day was Thanksgiving. Dotty wakened in such a happy mood that it
seemed to her the world had never looked so bright before.
"I don't think, Prudy, it's the turkey and plum pudding we're going to
have that makes me so happy--do you?"
"What is it, then, little sister?"
"O, it's 'cause I dreamed I was sleeping on pin-feathers, and woke up and
found I wasn't. You'd feel a great deal better, Prudy, if you'd run away
and had such a dreadful time, and got home again."
"I don't want to try it," returned Prudy, with a smile.
"No; but it's so nice to be forgiven!" said Dotty, laying her hand on her
heart, "it makes you feel so easy right in here."
A fear came over Prudy that the little runaway had not been punished
enough. But Dotty went on:--
"It makes you feel as if you'd never be naughty again. Now, if my mamma
was always thumping me with a thimble, and scolding me so as to shake the
house, I shouldn't care; but when she is just like an angel, and forgives
me, I _do_ care."
"I'm so glad, Dotty! I think, honestly, mother's the best woman that
ever lived."
"Then why didn't she marry the best man?" asked Dotty, quickly.
"Who is that?"
"Why, Abraham Lincoln, of course." Prudy laughed.
"Yes; I suppose Mr. Lincoln was the best man that ever lived; but papa
comes next."
"Yes," said Dotty; "I think he does. And I'd rather have him for a father
than Mr. Lincoln, 'cause I'm better 'quainted with him. I shouldn't dare
kiss the President. And, besides that, he's dead."
"You're a funny girl, Dotty; but what you say is true. Everything happens
just right in this world."
"Does it?" said Dotty, wrinkling her brows anxiously; "does it,
now truly?"
"Yes, indeed, Dotty. Anybody wouldn't think so, but it does."
"Then I suppose it happens right for me to be a bad girl and run away."
"No, indeed, Dotty; because you can help it. Everything is right that we
_can't_ help; that's what I mean."
"Then I s'pose 'twas right for me to crawl through the cellar window,"
said Dotty; "for I'm sure I couldn't help it"
"O, dear me! you ask such queer questions that I can't answer them, Dotty
Dimple. All I know is this: everything happens just right in this
world--_when you can't help it_."
With which sage remark Prudy stepped out of bed, and began to dress
herself. Dotty planted her elbow in the pillow, and leaned her head
on her hand.
"I don't believe it happens just right for Mrs. Rosenberg to keep that
dog, or to thump so with a thimble; but, then, I don't know."
"I'm hurrying to get dressed," said Prudy. "The first bell has rung."
"Why, I never heard it," cried Dotty, springing up. "I wouldn't be late
to-day for anything."
Prudy looked anxiously at her little sister to see if she was cross; but
her face was as serene as the cloudless sky; she had waked up right, and
meant to be good all day. When Dotty had one of her especially good days,
Prudy's cup of happiness was full. She ran down stairs singing,--
"Thank God for pleasant weather!
Shout it merrily, ye hills,
And clap your hands together,
Ye exulting little rills.
"Thank him, bird and birdling,
As ye grow and sing;
Mingle in thanksgiving,
Every living thing,
Every living thing,
Every living thing."
Dotty was so anxious to redeem her character in everybody's eyes, that
she hardly knew what she was doing. Mrs. Parlin sent her into the kitchen
with a message to Norah concerning the turkey; but she forgot it on the
way, and stood by Norah's elbow gazing at the raisins, fruit, and other
nice things in a maze.
"What did my mamma send me here for? She ought to said it over twice.
Any way, Norah, now I think of it, I wish you please wouldn't starch my
aprons on the inside; starch 'em on the outside, 'cause they rub
against my neck."
"Go back and see what your mamma wants," said Norah, laughing.
"Why, mamma," cried Dotty reappearing in the parlor quite crestfallen--"
why, mamma, I went right up to Norah to ask her, and asked her something
else. My head spins dreadfully."
Mrs. Parlin repeated the message; and Dotty delivered it this time
correctly, adding,--
"Now, Norah, I'm all dressed for dinner; so I can do something for you
just as well as not. Such days as, this, when you have so much to do, you
ought to let me help."
To Dotty's surprise Norah found this suggestion rather amusing.
"For mercy's sake," said she, "I have got my hands full now; and when you
are round, Miss Dotty, and have one of your good fits, it seems as if I
should fly."
"What do you mean by a good fit?"
"Why, you have spells, child--you know you do--when butter wouldn't melt
in your mouth."
"Do I?" said Dotty. "I thought butter always melted in anybody's mouth.
Does it make my mouth cold to be good, d'ye s'pose?"
"La, me, I don't know," replied the girl, washing a potato vigorously.
"_I_ might wash those potatoes," said Dotty, plucking Norah's sleeve;
"do you put soap on them?"
"Not much soap--no."
"Well, then, Norah, you shouldn't put _any_ soap on them; that's why I
asked; for my mother just washes and rinses 'em; that's the proper way."
"For pity's sake," said Norah, giving the little busybody a good-natured
push. "What's going on in the parlor, Miss Dotty? You'd better run and
see. If you should go in there and look out of the window, perhaps a
monkey would come along with an organ."
"No, he wouldn't, Norah, and if he did, Prudy'd let me know."
As Dotty spoke she was employed in slicing an onion, while the tears ran
down her cheeks; but a scream from Norah caused her to drop the knife.
"Why, what is it?" said Dotty.
"Ugh! It's some horrid little _animil_ crawling down my neck."
"Let me get him," cried Dotty, seizing a pin, and rushing at poor
Norah, who tried in vain to ward off the pin and at the same time catch
the spider.
"_Will_ you let me alone, child?"
"No, no; I want the bug myself," cried Dotty, pricking Norah on
the cheek.
"Want the bug?"
"Yes; mayn't I stick him through with a pin from ear to ear? I know a
lady Out West that's making a c'lection of bugs."
"Well, here he is, then; and a pretty scrape I've had catching him;
thanks be to you all the same, Miss Dimple."
As it turned out to be only a hair-pin, Dotty shook her head in disdain,
and went on slicing onions.
"Sure now," said Norah, "I should think you'd be wanting to go and see
what's become of your sister Prudy. Maybe she's off on the street
somewhere, and never asked you to go with her."
"Now you're telling a hint," exclaimed Dotty, making a dash at a turnip.
"I know what you mean by your monkeys and things; you want to get me
away. It's not polite to tell hints, Norah; my mamma says so."
But as Dotty began to see that she really was not wanted, she concluded
to go, though she must have it seem that she went of her own accord, and
not because of Norah's "hints."
"Did you think it was a buggler, when I opened the cellar-door last
night, Norah?"
"No; I can't say as I did--not when I looked at you," replied
Norah, gravely.
"'Cause I'm going into the parlor to ask mother if _she_ thought I was a
buggler. I believe I won't help you any more now, Norah; p'rhaps I'll
come out by and by."
So Dotty skipped away; but it never occurred to her that she had been
troublesome. She merely thought it very strange Norah did not appreciate
her services.
"I s'pose she knows mother'll help her if I don't," said she to herself.
Dotty's goodness ran on with a ceaseless flow till two o'clock, when that
event took place which the children regarded as the most important one of
the day--that is, dinner.
After the silent blessing, Mr. Parlin turned to his youngest daughter,
and said,--
"Alice, do you know what Thanksgiving Day is for?"
"Yes, sir; for turkey."
"Is that all?"
"No, sir; for plum pudding."
"What do you think about it, Prudy?"
"I think the same as Dotty does, sir," replied Prudy, with a wistful
glance at her father's right hand, which held the carving knife.
"What do you say, Susy?"
"It comes in the almanac, just like Christmas, sir; and it's something
about the Pilgrim Fathers and the Mayflower."
"No, Susy; it does not come in the almanac; the Governor appoints it. We
have so many blessings that he sets apart one day in the year in which we
are to think them over, and be thankful for them."