e as respectable as Mandoline's. Mrs.
Rosenberg was far too busy to attend to her children's heads. They might
be rough on the outside, and full of mischief inside; but she could not
stop to inquire.

"What a dreadful nice breakfast!" remarked Judith, rubbing her hands,
and accidentally hitting little Jacob, who forthwith spilled some
molasses on the clean table-cloth, and had his ears boxed in consequence.
It was very evident that this meal was a much better one than usual--a
sort of festival in honor of Dotty Dimple: Dutch cheese and pickles,
mince-pie and gingerbread, pepper-boxes and green and yellow dishes, were
mixed up together as if they had been stirred about with a spoon.

Dotty had not intended to eat a mouthful; but after her light supper
of the night before, she was really hungry, and, in spite of her
best resolves, the fish-hash and corncake gradually disappeared from
her plate.

After breakfast she felt more resigned, and armed herself to meet her
fate. Mrs. Rosenberg graciously allowed Mandoline to lay aside her
tedious knitting, and give her undivided attention to her guest. Dotty
had no heart for play.

"Seems as if I should choke in this house," said she; "let's go out
and breathe."

The air inside the house was rather stifling from a mixture of odors, and
soon the grocery began to fill with loud-talking men and boys; but not
the least of Dotty's troubles was the black and tan dog, who seemed to
have just such a temper as Mrs. Rosenberg, and would certainly have
scolded if he had had the gift of speech.

The two little girls went out to walk; but it was not a pleasant street
where the grocery stood, and Dotty hurried on to a better part of the
town. They fluttered about for two or three hours, as aimless as a couple
of white butterflies. Just as they were turning to go back to the dismal
little grocery, which Dotty thought was more like a lock-up than ever,
they met Mr. and Mrs. Parlin riding out in a carriage.

[Illustration: DOTTY AND THE BLACK-AND-TAN DOG.]

Dotty felt a sudden tumult of joy and shame, but the joy was uppermost.
She rushed headlong across the street, swinging her arms and startling
the horse, who supposed she was some new and improved kind of windmill,
dressed up in a little girl's clothes.

"O, my darling mamma, my darling mamma!"

To her surprise, the horse did not stop. He only pricked up his ears, and
looked with displeasure at the windmill, but kept along as before