y 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.