temptation again--that was all.

Johnny missed his little lively cousin in his out-of-door sports; but he
was so angry with her that he scarcely ever went up stairs to see her;
and when he did go, amused himself by putting his mouth down to her ear,
and crying,--

"E, for shame, Dot Parlin! Fore I'd run and tell!"

But Dotty did not know that her cousin Johnny was harboring such bitter
thoughts against her. She had a high temper herself; but anger did not
rankle in her heart for days and days, as it did in Johnny's. She was
not eager, like him, for revenge.

The Parlins were now making ready to go into their new hired house.

They were all longing for a place they could call "home."

During the few days, while they yet remained at Mrs. Eastman's, very few
events occurred which are worth recording. For one thing, Dotty's bird
died. She had loved it for its helplessness; but Angeline said,--

"You needn't be sorry. What did I tell you when you took that bird into
the window? I knew something would happen; but didn't know as it would
be a boat-wreck exactly."

Dotty, and even Prudy, had received some very foolish ideas from
Angeline. The Portland fire had affected the Parlin family in more ways
than one; and it would be long before the three little girls would
settle into their usual quiet habits again.

CHAPTER IX.

THE NEW HOME.

"Prudy," said Dotty, "you needn't say that word 'wherrying' to me any
more. Mamma said there mus'n't anybody tease me about that, because
I've--I've repented it all up."

"O, I'm so glad!" replied Prudy.

"I'll never take another bird into the window," continued Dotty; "it's
almost as bad as a ghost."

"You never saw a ghost, Dotty. Nobody ever did."

"Yes, indeed; Angeline has seen 'em as thick as spatter! They come when
you're asleep, and there don't anybody know it. I shouldn't dare open
my eyes in the night. They're wrapped in a sheet, all white, and their
eyes snap like fire. Angeline says they do."

"I don't believe it," said Prudy, stoutly; "my mother told me 'twasn't
true."

"P'r'aps mamma doesn't wake up in the night," said Dotty, "and p'r'aps
the ghosts never come where she is. Why, Prudy, they're made out o'
nothing! If you stick a knife into 'em it goes right through, and don't
touch their blood, for they haven't got any blood. They don't care for
knives--they're just like bubbles."

"I don't believe it," replied Prudy, again. "I think it's wicked. My