double beat, half
admiration, half envy. Jennie's black eyes were shining with vanity, and
her nicely gaitered feet tripped daintily up the steps.

"How d'ye do?" said she, carelessly, to Dotty, and swept by her like a
little ship under full sail.

"Jennie Vance needn't talk so about her new mother," whispered Prudy,
"for she gives her fifty-two new dresses, one for every Sunday."

Dotty's brow darkened. Just now it seemed to her one of the greatest
trials in the whole world that the dress she wore had been made over
from one of Prudy's. It was a fine white organdie with a little pink
sprig, but there was a darn in the skirt. Then there was no feather in
her hat, and no breastpin at her throat.

Poor Dotty! She did not hear much of the sermon, but sat very quiet,
counting the nails in the pews and the pipes in the organ, and watching
old Mr. Gordon, who had a red silk kerchief spread over his head to
guard it against the draught from the window. She listened a little to
the prayers, it is true, because she knew it was wrong to let her
thoughts wander when Mr. Preston was speaking to God.

When the services were over, and she was going to her Sabbath school
class, she passed Jennie Vance in the aisle.

"Where are you going, Jennie?" said she.

"Going home. My mamma says I needn't stay to say my lessons and miss a
warm dinner."

Jennie said this with such a toss of the head that Dotty longed to reply
in a cutting manner.

"It isn't polite to have warm dinners on Sunday, Jennie Vance! But you
said your father had a _step-wife_, and perhaps she doesn't know!"

"I didn't say my papa had a step-wife, Dotty Dimple."

But this was all Jennie had time to retort, for Dotty now entered the
pew where her class were to sit. Miss Preston was the teacher, and it
was her custom to have each of her little pupils repeat a half dozen
verses or so, which she explained to them in a very clear manner. The
children did not always understand her, however; and you shall see
hereafter how Dotty's queer little brain grew befogged. The last clause
of one of her verses to-day was this:--

"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver."

"Suppose," said Miss Preston, "there were two little girls living in a
beautiful house, with everything nice to eat and wear, and there should
come a poor man in rags, and beg for charity. One of the little girls is
so sorry for him that she runs to her mamma and asks, as a favor, to be
allowed to give him some