XI. JOHNNY'S REVENGE. 155

DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME.

CHAPTER I.

THE LION AND THE LAMB.

Dotty Dimple, after a night of pleasant sleep, greeted herself in the
morning with a groan. It was as if she had said,--

"O, dear! _you_ here again, Dotty? Why didn't you sleep longer?"

Prudy noticed the cloud on her sister's face in a moment; she saw she
had "waked up wrong."

Now I have never told you how peculiarly trying it was to live with
Dotty Dimple. She seemed to have, at the same time, the nature of a lion
and a lamb. When the lion raged, then her eyes blazed, and she looked
as if she belonged in a menagerie; but when nothing occurred to rouse
her wild temper, she was as gentle and tender as a little lamb frisking
by its mother's side on a summer's day.

Indeed, if I were to describe the loveliness of her manners, and the
sweetness of her face, I ought to dip my pen in liquid sunshine;
whereas, the blackest of ink would not be at all too dark to draw her
picture when she was out of temper.

In her earliest childhood it had been worse than it was now. Then she
had not tried in the least to control herself, and the lion had had his
own way. After one of her wild outbursts, she would follow her mother
about the house, saying, in a soft, pleading voice,--

"Say, mamma, is I your little comfort?"

Before answering Dotty, the poor mother had to call to mind all the good
things the child had ever said or done, and fancy how dreadful it would
be to lose her. Then she would reply,--

"Yes, Dotty, you are mamma's dear little girl; but mamma doesn't like
your naughty, naughty ways."

This failed to satisfy Miss Dimple. She would cry out again, in
heart-broken tones,--

"Is I your little comfort, mamma? _Is_ I?"

So, sooner or later, Mrs. Parlin was obliged, for the sake of peace, to
kiss the child, and answer, "Yes." Then, perhaps, for twenty-four hours
the lion would be curled up, asleep, and out of sight in his den, and
the lamb would be playfully frisking about the house, a pet for
everybody.

But often and often, when Susy and Prudy came in from school or play,
they found their baby sister in disgrace, perched upon the wood-box in
the kitchen, with feet and hands firmly tied. There she would sit,
throwing out the loudest noise possible from her little throat. It was
the young lion again, roaring in his cage.

Prudy, though her heart swelled with pity, dared not say,--

"Don't scream