sters. You may _think_. When the bell rings you may come to dinner;
and after dinner I would like to see you in the nursery."

In half an hour Dotty had such a look of heartache in her face that
Prudy longed to comfort her, only speech was forbidden. The little
creature was out in the front yard, poking dirt with a stick, and
secretly wondering if she could make a hole deep enough to lie down in
and die.

CHAPTER II.

A SAD STORY.

After dinner, Mrs. Parlin was seated on the lounge in the nursery,
looking very sad. Raising her eyes, she saw Dotty standing before her,
twisting a corner of her apron. The child had entered as quietly as her
own shadow, and her mother had not heard a footfall.

"My dear little girl, I am going to tell you a story."

"Yes, 'm."

Dotty looked steadily at her finger-nails.

"A true story about a child who let her temper run away with her."

"Yes, 'm," replied Dotty again, giving her mother a view of her rosy
right ear.

Mrs. Parlin saw that Dotty was very much ashamed. Her face did not look
as it had looked in the early morning. Then

"There was a hardness in her eye,
There was a hardness in her cheek:"

now she appeared as if she would be very much obliged to the nursery
floor if it would open like a trap-door and let her fall through, out of
everybody's sight.

"The little girl I am going to tell you about, Dotty, lived in this
state. Her name was Harriet Snow. Her father and mother were both dead.
She had occasional fits of temper, which were very dreadful indeed. At
such times she would hop up and down and scream."

Dotty tied the two corners of her apron into a hard knot. The story was
rather too personal.

"Was the little girl pretty?" said she, trying to change the subject.

"Not very pretty, I think. Her skin was dark; her eyes were black, and
remarkably bright. When I saw her, she was thirteen years old; and you
may know, Dotty, that by that time her face could not well be very
pleasant: temper always leaves its marks."

Dotty looked at her little plump hands, as if she expected to see black
spots on them.

"Sometimes Harriet beat her head against the wall so violently that
there seemed to be danger of her dashing her brains out."

Dotty looked up quite bravely. This dreadful little girl was worse than
_she_ had ever been! O, yes!

"Wasn't she crazy, mamma?"

Mrs. Parlin shook her head.

"No, I am afraid not, dear. Only, when she allowed a