PRUDY FISHING,

IX. THE HATCHET STORY,

X. MORE STORIES,

XI. PRUDY'S WHITE TEA,

XII. PRUDY TRYING TO HELP,

XIII. THE GYPSY SUPPER,

XIV. THE ANGEL-BABY,

XV. GOING HOME,

* * * * *

LITTLE PRUDY

CHAPTER I

PRUDY'S PATCHWORK

I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always
saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble.

Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years
older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer
they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother.

At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, and
Prudy was between three and four. Susy could sew quite well for a
girl of her age, and had a stint every day. Prudy always thought it
very fine to do just as Susy did, so she teased her mother to let
_her_ have some patchwork, too, and Mrs. Parlin gave her a few calico
pieces, just to keep her little fingers out of mischief.

But when the squares were basted together, she broke needles, pricked
her fingers, and made a great fuss; sometimes crying, and wishing
there were no such thing as patchwork.

One morning she sat in her rocking-chair, doing what she thought was a
"_stint_." She kept running to her mother with every stitch, saying,
"Will that do?" Her mother was very busy, and said, "My little
daughter must not come to me." So Prudy sat down near the door, and
began to sew with all her might; but soon her little baby sister came
along, looking so cunning, that Prudy dropped her needle, and went to
hugging her.

"O, little sister," cried she, "I wouldn't have a horse come and eat
you up for any thing in the world!"

After this, of course, her mother had to get her another needle, and
then thread it for her. She went to sewing again till she pricked her
finger, and the sight of the wee drop of blood made her cry.

"O, dear! I wish somebody would pity me!" But her mother was so busy
frying doughnuts that she could not stop to talk much; and the next
thing she saw of Prudy she was at the farther end of the room, while
her patchwork lay on the spice box.

"Prudy, Prudy, what are you up to now?"

"Up to the table," said Prudy. "O, mother, I'm so sorry, but I've
broke a crack in the pitcher!"

"What will mamma do with you? You haven't finished your stint--what
made you get out of your chair?"

"O, I thought grandma might wan