Dotty Dimple At Play Part 10

Dotty's little heart, the swelling of which had net gone down at all during the night, now ached terribly. She covered her face with her hands, and groaned aloud.

"Don't," said Mandoline, touched with pity. "They no business to treat you so."

"O, Lina, don't you talk! You don't know anything about it. You never had such a father'n mother's they are! And now they won't let me come into the house!"

This wail of despair would have melted Mrs. Parlin if she could have heard it. It was only because she thought it necessary to be severe that she had consented to do as her husband advised, and turn coldly away from her dear little daughter. Dotty was a loving child, in spite of her disobedience, and this treatment was almost more than she could bear. She found no consolation in talking with Lina, for she knew Lina could not understand her feelings.

"She hasn't any Susy and Prudy at her house, nor no _anything_" thought Dotty. "If I lived with Mrs. Rosenberg and that dog, I'd want to be locked out; I'd ask if I couldn't. But, O, my darling mamma! I've been naughty too many times! When I'd been naughty fifty, sixty, five hundred times, then she forgave me; but now she can't forgive me any more; it isn't possible."

Dotty staggered against a girl who was drawing a baby-carriage, but recovered herself.

"It isn't possible to forgive me any more. She told me not to go on the water, and I went. She told me not to have temper, and I had it. Every single thing she's told me not to do, I always went and did it. She said, 'I do not wish you to play with Lina Rosenberg;' and then I went right off and played with her. I didn't have a bit good time; but that's nothing. She hided my hat--Lina did; but if I'd gone home, straight home, and not gone to her house, then she couldn't have hided it.

"I was naughty; I was real naughty; I was as naughty as King Herod and King Pharaoh. n.o.body'll ever love me. I'm a poor _orphanless_ child! I've got a father'n mother, but it's just the same as if I didn't, for they won't let me call 'em by it. O, they didn't die, but they won't be any father'n mother to ME!

"'What strange little girl is this?' that's what my papa said. '_ Looks_ like my daughter Alice!' O, I wish I could die!"

"Come, come," said Lina; "let's go home. Mother said you and I might have some macaroni cakes and lager beer, if we wouldn't let the rest of 'em see us at it."

"I don't care anything about your _locker_ beer, Lina Rosenberg, nor your whiskey and tobacco pipes, either. Nor neither, nor nothing," added the desolate child, standing "stock still," with the back of her head against a pile of bricks, her eyes closed, and her hands folded across her bosom.

"There, there; you're a pretty sight now, Dotty Dimple! What if you should freeze so! Come along and behave."

"I can't, I can't!"

"If you don't, Dotty, I'll have to go into that barber's shop. I know the man, and I'll make him carry you home _piggerback_"

"Well, if I've got to go, I'll go," said Dotty, rousing herself, and starting; "but I'd rather be dead, over'n over; and wish I was; so there!"

CHAPTER VIII.

PLAYING THIEF.

This day was the longest one to be found in the almanac; it was longer than all the line of railroad from Maine to Indiana and back again.

Dotty shut her lips together, and suffered in silence. But when the afternoon was half spent, it suddenly occurred to her that if she did not go home she should die. Soldiers had died of homesickness, for she had heard her father say so. She had not been able to swallow a mouthful of dinner, and that fact was of itself rather alarming.

"Perhaps I'm going to have the _typo_. Any way, my head aches. Besides, my papa didn't say I _mustn't_ go home. He said I must finish my visit, and I _have_. O, I've finished _that_ all up, ever and ever and ever so long ago."

She and Mandoline went out again to "breathe," Mrs. Rosenberg giving her daughter a warning glance from the doorway, which meant, "Be watchful, Mandy!" for the look of fixed despair on the little prisoner's face gave the woman some anxiety lest she should try to escape.

The unhappy child walked on in silence, twisting a lock of her front hair, and looking up at the sky. A few soft snow-flakes were dropping out of the clouds. Every flake seemed to fall on her heart. Winter was coming. It was a gray, miserable world, and she was left out in the cold.

She remembered she had been happy once, but that was ages ago. It wasn't likely she should ever smile again; and as for laughter, she knew that was over with her forever. Susy and Prudy were at home, making book-marks and cologne mats; _they_ could smile, for they hadn't run away.

"I shouldn't think my mamma'd care if I went in at the back door,"

thought Dotty, meekly. "If she locks me out, I can lie down on the steps and freeze."

But the question was, how to get away from Mandoline, who had her in charge like a sharp-eyed sheriff.

"That's the street I turn to go to my house--isn't it, Lina?" asked she, quickly.

"I shan't tell you, Dotty Dimple. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I'm going home. I'm sick. Good by."

"But you musn't go a step, Dotty Dimple."

"Yes, I shall; you're not my mamma, Lina Rosenberg; you mustn't tell me what to do."

"Well, I'm going everywhere you go, Dotty, but I shan't say whether it's the way to your house, or the way to Boston; and _you_ don't know."

Dotty was not to be so easily baffled.

"I don't know myself, Lina Rosenberg, but if you're so mean as not to tell, I can ask somebody else that _will_ tell--don't you see?"

This was a difficulty which Lina had not provided for. She was very sorry Dotty had come out "to breathe."

Very soon they overtook a lady, who pointed out the right street to Dotty; and it was in an opposite direction from the one she was taking.

"Now I've found out, Miss Rosenberg, and you can't help yourself."

"Well, I shall go with you, Dotty, just the same. I shall go right up to your house, and tell your mother you've run away _again_"

It was very disagreeable to Miss Dimple to be pursued in this way; but she put on an air of defiance.

"I shouldn't think you'd want to go where you wasn't wanted, Miss Rosenberg."

Lina had never intended to do such a thing; she had not courage enough.

"O, dear! what shall I do to make you go back with me? My mother'll scold me awfully for letting you get away."

"Well, there; you've got the dreadfulest mother, Lina, and I'm real sorry; but it's no use to tease me; I wouldn't go back, not if you should cut me up into little pieces as big as a cent."

Lina was ready to fall upon her knees, right on the pavement. She offered Dotty paper dolls enough to people a colony; but Miss Dimple was as firm as a rock, now her face was once set towards home. Lina turned on her heel, and slowly walked away. Dotty called after her:--

"There, Lina, now you've told an awful story! You said you'd go to my house, and tell my mother I'd run away again; and now you don't dare go; so you've told an awful wicked story."

With this parting thrust at her tormentor, Dotty turned again to the misery of her own thoughts. Her home was already in sight; but the uncertainty as to her reception there made her little feet falter in their course. Her head sank lower and lower, till her chin snuggled into the hollow of her neck, and her eyes peered out keenly from under her hat, to make sure no one was watching. There was a door-yard on one side of the house. She touched the gate-latch as gently as if it had been a loaded gun, and crept noiselessly along to the side door. Here she paused. Her heart throbbed loudly; but, in spite of that, she could hear Norah walking about, and rattling the covers of the stove, as she put in coal.

Dotty's courage failed. What if Norah should make believe she didn't know her, and shut the door in her face?

"I can't see Norah, and hear her say, 'What strange little girl is this?

It _looks_ like our Alice; but it can't be any such a child!' No, I can't see anybody. I've finished my visit; I have a right to come home; but p'rhaps they won't think so. I feel's if I wasn't half so good as tea-grounds, or coffee-grounds, or potato-skins," continued she, with a pang of despair. "I know what I'll do; I'll go down cellar; that's where the rats stay; and if I _am_ bad, I hope I'm as good as a rat, for I don't bite."

One of the cellar windows had been left out in order to admit coal.