little pink toes, then rubbed the whole bunch of matches on the carpet, saying to herself, "A lamp to my feet."

But, somehow, the lamp would not light itself. Dotty did not know how to turn back the chimney, and, though there was certainly blaze enough in the matches, it did not catch the wick. It leaped forward and caught the skirt of Prudy's dress.

"You're burnin' afire! You're burnin' afire!" shouted Dotty, dancing around her sister. Prudy now felt the heat, and screamed too, bringing her mother and Norah to the spot at once. The flames were soon smothered in a rug, and so Prudy's life was mercifully saved.

It was sometime before any one understood what Dotty had been trying to do with a light.

"I was just only a-puttin' a lamp to my feet," sobbed she. "I learned it to Sabber school."

But the little one's rare tears were soon dried by a romp with Zip out of doors.

"It's queer how things always happen just right," said Prudy, still trembling from her fright. "You said, if I'd been wearing my calico, mother, I'd have been scorched. And you know it was only the littlest while ago I put on this blue delaine, to go to auntie's in!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE NESTLINGS.

An hour or two after this, Mrs. Parlin, Susy, Prudy, and Zip went to visit Mrs. Eastman, who now lived a little way out of town.

Dotty was driving ducks, and did not see her mother and sisters when they started.

"Where is they, Nono? And where's Prudy?"

"Gone walking. Your mamma told you they were going," replied Norah, setting a basin of water and a brush and comb on the stand.

"Well, Prudy's runned away," cried Dotty, "Naughty girl; made out o' dirt!"

"Come here, Miss Dimple, and let me brush your hair."

"Well, here's my hair, Nono, but you mustn't pull it; 'tisn't your hair! O, I want to kiss my mamma, I do!"

"Your mamma will be back again this evening."

"Don't want to kiss her in the evening—want to kiss her now!"

"What makes you in such a hurry to kiss your mother?"

"O, I just only want to tell her to whip Prudy. Naughty Prudy runned away! Made out o' dirt!"

Dotty always looked very low-spirited while her long hair was being curled over a stick, and now was more unhappy than usual, for it was one of her "temper days."

But at last cousin Percy Eastman happened to call in, and declared he must take his pretty cousin home with him in the carriage.

"I'll get her ready," said Norah; "but you're sure to be sorry if you take her, for she's brimming over with mischief to-day."

Dotty danced like a piece of thistledown. "There, Nono," said she, "I's goin' to auntie's my own self; Prudy'll have to give up."

All this time Mrs. Parlin and the two older children were having a fine walk. It was a bright June day. Prudy said she had to sing to herself for all the things she saw looked as happy as if they were alive. As Prudy talked, she flew from flower to flower, like a honey-bee.

"I can't wait for Prudy to walk so zigzag," said Susy.

Mrs. Parlin suggested that Susy should keep on, and tell her aunt Eastman they were coming. Then she allowed Prudy to walk as "zigzag" as she pleased; for Mrs. Parlin had long patience with her children.

"O, mamma," said Prudy, suddenly stopping short, and standing on one foot; "if there isn't a cow!"

"I see, my dear, she is eating the sweet grass."

"Yes, 'm; but don't its horns flare out like a pitchfork? Do you s'pose he knows how easy he could toss folks right up in the air?"

"I hope my little daughter is not afraid of a gentle cow."

"No, indeed," cried Prudy, clinging fast to her mother's hand. "Poh! if I was afraid of a cow I'd be a cow—ard. I'd as lief he'd see me as not, if you'll shake your parasol at him, mamma."

Prudy breathed more freely when the cow was out of sight.

Soon she saw something which caused her to forget her terror. Peeping in among the branches of a small tree, she espied what she called a "live bird's nest." Never having seen any young birds before, she wondered at first "who had picked off their feathers." The wee things seemed to be left to themselves while their mother was away providing supper.

"Haven't they very big stretchy mouths, for such small birdies?" said Prudy. "Aren't you afraid they'll crack their mouths in two, gaping so, mamma?"

"They are only hungry, child. Suppose you feed them with a bit of a berry."

Prudy nipped a strawberry into three parts with her thumb and forefinger, and dropped the pieces into their mouths.

"O, mamma, they swallowed it whole! they swallowed it whole! Their teeth haven't come!"

Prudy's fresh delight and surprise were so pleasant to witness that her mother allowed her to linger for a while, mincing berries for the nestlings supper.

When, at last, they reached Mrs. Eastman's, Prudy eagerly described the young wonders she had found.

"It was like a story," said she, "of little widow-children,—how the mother was dead, and the children had to stay alone."

"Children are never widows," said Susy, laughing; "it isn't possible! But if their parents die, they are orphans sometimes."

"That's just what I meant," exclaimed Prudy, looking crestfallen. "I should think you might know what I mean, 'thout laughing at me, either."

Before long Dotty Dimple arrived, in great triumph. She threw her chubby arms about her mother's neck, saying, "Is I your little comfort, mamma? I camed in the hoss and carriage. S'an't give Prudy no supper—will you? 'Cause Prudy runned away!"

"I should not have allowed this child to come," said Mrs. Parlin, at the tea table; "but cousin Percy always picks up the stray babies, and gives them a ride."

Dotty looked as if she could easily forgive her cousin Percy. But there was one thing that made her nice supper taste like "spoiled nectar," and that was the sight of Prudy enjoying her strawberries and cream.

If she had runned away, as Dotty insisted upon believing, why was she not shut up in the closet? Strange to say, dearly as Dotty loved this kind sister, she enjoyed seeing her punished. She was vexed because Prudy was allowed, after all, to sit at the table with the rest of the family. The little creature was very tired, for she had driven ducks all the long summer day. She was also a little sleepy; and, more than all, it was one of her "temper days," when everything went wrong.

After tea she had a serious quarrel with her little cousin Johnny, over a dead squirrel, which they both tried to feed with sugared water, from a teaspoon.

"Johnny," cried she, "don't you touch his mouf any more! If you do, I s'an't w'ip you, Johnny, but I'll sp'inkle some ashes on your head! Yes, I will."

Johnny, heedless of the threat, tried again to force open Bunny's stiff mouth, Dotty's beautiful eyes blazed.

Without a word she walked off proudly to the kitchen, and came back with a handful of cold ashes, which she freely sifted into Johnny's flaxen hair. Mrs. Parlin saw that it was high time to take her youngest daughter home.

"O, mother," said Prudy, who always felt herself disgraced by her little sister's bad conduct, "sometimes Dotty pretty nearly makes you cry! Don't you almost wish you hadn't any such little girl?"

"My dear child, I am her mother, and she could hardly do anything so naughty that I should cast her out of my heart. When she has these freaks of temper, I think, 'God bears with me, and I will try to bear with my little one. I will wait. One of these days, when her reason grows, she will be a real blessing to us all.'"

Mrs. Parlin proceeded to put on Dotty's outer wrappings, saying she must be taken home. The child struggled