irst she was too angry to speak; and
when words did come, they were too weak. She wanted words that were so
strong, and bitter, and fierce, that they would make Dotty quail. But
all she could say was,--

"O, dreadful good you are, Miss Parlin! Good's the minister! Ah! guess
I'll get out and sleep on the floor!"

Dotty made no reply, but rolled over to the front of the bed, and
Jennie pushed herself to the back of it. There the little creatures
lay in silence, each on an edge of the bedstead, and a whole mattress
between. Sleep did not come at once.

"She's left that money on the floor," thought Dotty; "what if a mouse
should creep down the chimney, and gnaw it all up? But she must take
care of it herself. _I_ shan't!"

And Jennie thought, wrathfully, "Dotty says such long prayers she
can't stop to pick up that scrip! If she expects me to get out of bed,
she's made a mistake; I won't touch her old money."

About nine o'clock grandma Parlin came quietly into the room with a
lamp. A smile crept round the corners of her mouth, as she saw the
little girls sleeping so widely apart, their faces turned away from
each other.

"How is this?" said she, as the two bills caught her eye. "Of all the
foolish children! Dropping money about the room like waste paper!"

The light awoke Jennie, who had only just fallen asleep. "Now is the
time," said she to herself; and without waiting for a second thought,
which would have been a worse one, she sprang out of bed, and caught
Mrs. Parlin by the skirts.

"That money is yours, Mrs. Parlin," said she, bravely. "Yours; I found
it in the rag-bag. Something naughty came into me this morning, and
made me want to keep it; but I'm ever so sorry, and never'll do it
again. Will you forgive me?"

Then grandma Parlin seated herself in a rocking-chair, took Jennie
right into her lap, and talked to her a long while in the sweetest
way. Jennie curled her head into the good woman's neck, and sobbed
out all her wretchedness.

"She knew she was real bad, and people didn't like to have her play
with their little girls, and Dotty Dimple thought she was awful; but
_was_ she the wickedest girl in this town?"

"No; O, no!"

"Wasn't Dotty some bad, too?"

"Yes, Dotty often did wrong."

Then Jenny wept afresh.

"She knew she _was_ worse than Dotty, though. She wished,--O, dear, as
true as she lived,--she wished she was dead and buried, and drowned in
the Red Sea, and the grass over her grave, a