om the young face, and smiles began to play about the
corners of her mouth.

"Well," said she, starting up briskly, "I'm glad I wasn't so very
terribly wicked! I wish I'd been somewhere else, when I stood on those
back-stairs, in the middle of the night; but what's the use? I'm not
going to think any more about it, grandma; for if I should think till my
head was all twisted up in a knot, what good would it do? It wouldn't
help Prudy any; would it, grandma?"

"No, dear," said the mild, soothing voice again; "don't think, I beg of
thee; but if thee wants to know what would do Prudence good, I will tell
thee: try thy best to amuse her. She has to lie day after day and
suffer. It is very hard for a little girl that loves to play, and can't
read, and doesn't know how to pass the time; don't thee think so,
Susan?"

It was certainly hard. Prudy's round rosy face began to grow pale; and,
instead of laughing and singing half the time, she would now lie and cry
from pain, or because she really did not know what else to do with
herself.

It was worst at night. Hour after hour, she would lie awake, and listen
to the ticking of the clock. Susy thought it a pitiable case, when
_she_, heard the clock strike _once_; but little Prudy heard it strike
again and again. How strangely it pounded out the strokes in the night!
What a dreary sound it was, pealing through the silence! The echoes
answered with a shudder. Then, when Prudy had counted one, two, three,
four, and the clock had no more to say at that time, it began to tick
again: "Prudy's sick! Prudy's sick! O, dear me! O, dear me!"

Prudy could hardly believe it was the same clock she saw in the daytime.
She wondered if it felt lonesome in the night, and had the blues; or
what _could_ ail it! The poor little girl wanted somebody to speak to in
these long, long hours. She did not sleep with Susy, but in a new
cot-bed of her own, in aunt Madge's room; for, dearly as she loved to
lie close to any one she loved, she begged now to sleep alone, "so
nobody could hit her, or move her, or joggle her."

It was a great comfort to have aunt Madge so near. If it had been Susy
instead, Prudy would have had no company but the sound of her breathing.
It was of no use to try to wake Susy in the dead of night. Pricking her
with pins would startle her, but she never knew anything even after she
was startled. All she could do was to stare about her, cry, and act very
cross, and then--go to sleep