your naughty, naughty ways."

This failed to satisfy Miss Dimple. She would cry out again, in heart-broken tones,—

"Is I your little comfort, mamma? Is I?"

So, sooner or later, Mrs. Parlin was obliged, for the sake of peace, to kiss the child, and answer, "Yes." Then, perhaps, for twenty-four hours the lion would be curled up, asleep, and out of sight in his den, and the lamb would be playfully frisking about the house, a pet for everybody.

But often and often, when Susy and Prudy came in from school or play, they found their baby sister in disgrace, perched upon the wood-box in the kitchen, with feet and hands firmly tied. There she would sit, throwing out the loudest noise possible from her little throat. It was the young lion again, roaring in his cage.

Prudy, though her heart swelled with pity, dared not say,—

"Don't scream so, little sister! Please don't pound so with your feet!"

For when the lion fits were on, it was always safest to let the unhappy child alone. Prudy, who had no more temper than a humming-bird, and Susy, who was only moderately fretful once in a while, were made very unhappy by Dotty's dreadful behavior. At such times as I describe, they even looked guilty, and cast down their eyes, for they could not help feeling their sister's conduct as a family disgrace. They never spoke to any one about it, and bore all her freaks with wonderful patience. When the little one plucked at their hair or ears, they said, pitifully,—

"It's worse for her than it is for us. It makes her throat so sore to scream so."

They were especially careful never to provoke her to wrath. Perhaps, for the sake of peace, they yielded to her too much. If there was anything Dotty dearly loved, it was her own way; and the thing she most heartily despised was "giving up."

At the time of which we now write she was no longer a mere baby, and her "reasons," as Prudy had said, were "beginning to grow." She was never placed on the wood-box now, with hands and feet tied; and as for pulling hair, she was ashamed of the practice.

On this particular morning she had "waked up wrong." You all know what that means. Perhaps her dream stopped in the most interesting place, or perhaps some of the wonderful machinery of her body was out of order, and caused a twitching of the delicate nerves which lie under the skin. At any rate, when the cloudy sun peeped through the white curtains of Dotty's pleasant chamber, he found that little lady out of sorts.

"There, now, how long have you been awake, Prudy? Why didn't you speak?"

"O, it isn't anywhere near breakfast time, Dotty; Norah hasn't ground the coffee yet."

"Then I should think she might! She knows I'm hungry, and that makes her be as slow as a board nail!—I'll tell you what I wish, Prudy. I wish the whole world was a 'normous cling-stone peach, so I could keep eating for always, and never come to the stone."

"I don't know," replied Prudy, pleasantly. "I believe I'd rather have it a Bartlett pear—dead ripe."

"H'm! You may have your old Bartnot pears, Prudy Parlin; nobody wants 'em but just you! The next sweet, juicy peach that comes into this house I'll eat it myself, 'cause you don't like peaches; you just said you didn't!"

Prudy was considerate enough to make no reply. By living with Dotty, she had learned many lessons in "holding her peace."

"Perhaps we'd better get up," suggested she, rubbing her eyes.

Whereupon Dotty pursed her little red lips.

"Let's play keep house," answered she, for the sake of being cross-grained.

"Well, I don't care much," said Prudy, anxious to keep the peace.

They proceeded to make a tent of the upper sheet, and converse upon the trials of this troublesome life, as Mr. and Mrs. Carter, the two heads of a family.

"There's our Sammy," said Prudy, dolefully, "our poor Sammy. I don't see, Mrs. Carter, what we shall do with that boy. Within a day or two he has taken to stealing acorns!"

"Acorns!" responded Dotty, in a tragic tone. "O, Mr. Carter, I sejest the best thing we can do is to stand him up in the sink, and pump water on him!"

"I never thought of that, my dear wife! You are prob'bly correct!—prob'bly correct.—But what course shall we pursue with Mary Ann, and Julia Ann, and Anna Maria? They all bite their finger nails—bite 'em down to the double-quick."

"I would sejest, sejest—why don't you give those children some proxitude of iron, my dear—through a knitting-needle? Hark!" continued she, as Prudy scratched the top of the tent with her forefinger. "There's a mouse in this house, Mr. Carter: you must set a trap as quick as you can spring!"

"Very correct," replied the obedient husband, "very correct, Mrs. Carter. I'll call Jerusha to toast some cheese. Je-ru-shay!"

"What do you mean by Jerusha, Mr. Carter? We haven't any in the house."

"O, she is our chambermaid, my dear."

"But I won't 'low her to be Jerusher, Mr. Carter!"

"But, my dear wife, Jerusha is a proper name; it belongs to her."

"No, it isn't a proper name either; it's a very improper name, Prudy Parlin; and if you call her Jerusher so, I'll get us both dis-vosed!"

Prudy saw it was useless to continue the game: Dotty was not in a mood to be satisfied. The two children arose and dressed themselves, Prudy taking peculiar care not to finish her own toilet first.

"I'm going to tell you something," said Dotty, grimly, "but you mustn't tell mamma. I've made up my mind to be naughty!"

"To be naughty?"

"Yes, that's what I said—naughty! I'm tired all out o' bein' good! First thing I thought was, I'd be bad all day. I want to fret, and I'm going to fret!"

"O, Do-otty! Dotty Di-imple!"

"You needn't say anything, Prudy Parlin. You can talk as grand as a whale. But if I want to go and be naughty, you can't help yourself!"

Prudy's face took on a look of real distress. What this little queer mixture of a girl might do, if she really chose to be naughty, it was not pleasant to fancy.

The two went down stairs together. As they entered the cheerful dining-room, the joyous sun burst into a round smile, as if he had thrown off his yesterday's vapors, and never meant to be low-spirited again. But Dotty looked foggier than ever.

It was a delightful room. The wallpaper was the color of rich cream; the pictures were beautiful; the table, with its snowy cloth and white dishes, was pleasant to the eye; still, it was not so much the objects to be seen as it was the "air" of the room which made it seem so delightful. You knew at once, as you looked at the people who gathered around the table that morning, that they all loved one another; and family love makes any house seem like home.

Grandma Read was there in her plain Quaker cap, with the nicely-starched kerchief crossed upon her bosom; Mr. Parlin in his drab dressing-gown, lined with crimson; Mrs. Parlin in a print wrapper, with a linen collar at the throat, her hair as smooth as satin; the three little girls all neatly dressed, and all happy but Dotty. Susy's mocking-bird hung in a cage by one of the windows, and "brother Zip" was lounging in an arm-chair, catching flies.

After everybody was comfortably seated, and had said "Good morning," then a "silent blessing," according to the custom of the Friends, was asked upon