u've caught us napping this time."

But only she and Aunt Maria appreciated Horace's gallantry towards his
sensitive cousin Prudy.

CHAPTER VII.

A DAY ON THE SOFA.

When Dotty Dimple awoke that morning, she was very much astonished to
see the sun so high.

"The sky looks very clean," said she, "and I should think it might after
such a washing."

She did not know it, but for some reason the pure blue of the heavens
made her feel dissatisfied with herself. Since she had slept upon it,
her last night's conduct seemed worse to her than ever. All this while
her grandmamma's forgiveness had not been asked. Must it be asked? Dotty
hung her proud head for shame. Then she offered her morning prayer, and
promised God that henceforth she would try to be good.

"If Jennie Vance only stays away," added she, meekly.

The fact was, Dotty was losing faith in herself. She had boasted that
she never told a lie; she had "preached" to Jennie Vance; and now,
behold, what had she been doing herself! The child was full of good
resolutions to-day, but she began to find that her strongest purposes
did not hold together any longer than her gingham dresses.

Her foot was so lame and swollen that she made believe the staircase was
a hill, and slid down it accordingly. As she hobbled by the parlor door,
she saw her Aunt Maria seated on the sofa sewing. It must be very late,
she knew. Little Flyaway, who had been chasing the cat, ran to meet her,
looking very joyful because her cousin had overslept herself.

"It's half past o'clock," said she, clapping her little hands; "half
past o'clock, Dotty Dimple!"

Dotty felt quite ashamed, but her grandmother assured her that although
it was nearly ten o'clock, she was perfectly excusable. She seated her
in an easy chair, and gave her a cracker to nibble; for Dotty said she
was not hungry, and did not care for breakfast.

There was one thought uppermost in the little girl's mind: she must ask
her grandmother's forgiveness. Some children might not have seen the
necessity, but Dotty had been well instructed at home; she knew this
good, kind grandmamma was deserving of the highest respect, and if any
of her grandchildren disobeyed her, they could do no less than
acknowledge their fault. But Dotty was a very proud child; she could not
humble herself yet.

Mrs. Parlin dressed the lame foot, and pitied it, and was very sorry the
little girl had any soreness of the throat; but not a word of