Dotty Dimple At Play Part 13

"La, me, I don't know," replied the girl, washing a potato vigorously.

"_I_ might wash those potatoes," said Dotty, plucking Norah's sleeve; "do you put soap on them?"

"Not much soap--no."

"Well, then, Norah, you shouldn't put _any_ soap on them; that's why I asked; for my mother just washes and rinses 'em; that's the proper way."

"For pity's sake," said Norah, giving the little busybody a good-natured push. "What's going on in the parlor, Miss Dotty? You'd better run and see. If you should go in there and look out of the window, perhaps a monkey would come along with an organ."

"No, he wouldn't, Norah, and if he did, Prudy'd let me know."

As Dotty spoke she was employed in slicing an onion, while the tears ran down her cheeks; but a scream from Norah caused her to drop the knife.

"Why, what is it?" said Dotty.

"Ugh! It's some horrid little _animil_ crawling down my neck."

"Let me get him," cried Dotty, seizing a pin, and rushing at poor Norah, who tried in vain to ward off the pin and at the same time catch the spider.

"_Will_ you let me alone, child?"

"No, no; I want the bug myself," cried Dotty, p.r.i.c.king Norah on the cheek.

"Want the bug?"

"Yes; mayn't I stick him through with a pin from ear to ear? I know a lady Out West that's making a c'lection of bugs."

"Well, here he is, then; and a pretty sc.r.a.pe I've had catching him; thanks be to you all the same, Miss Dimple."

As it turned out to be only a hair-pin, Dotty shook her head in disdain, and went on slicing onions.

"Sure now," said Norah, "I should think you'd be wanting to go and see what's become of your sister Prudy. Maybe she's off on the street somewhere, and never asked you to go with her."

"Now you're telling a hint," exclaimed Dotty, making a dash at a turnip.

"I know what you mean by your monkeys and things; you want to get me away. It's not polite to tell hints, Norah; my mamma says so."

But as Dotty began to see that she really was not wanted, she concluded to go, though she must have it seem that she went of her own accord, and not because of Norah's "hints."

"Did you think it was a buggler, when I opened the cellar-door last night, Norah?"

"No; I can't say as I did--not when I looked at you," replied Norah, gravely.

"'Cause I'm going into the parlor to ask mother if _she_ thought I was a buggler. I believe I won't help you any more now, Norah; p'rhaps I'll come out by and by."

So Dotty skipped away; but it never occurred to her that she had been troublesome. She merely thought it very strange Norah did not appreciate her services.

"I s'pose she knows mother'll help her if I don't," said she to herself.

Dotty's goodness ran on with a ceaseless flow till two o'clock, when that event took place which the children regarded as the most important one of the day--that is, dinner.

After the silent blessing, Mr. Parlin turned to his youngest daughter, and said,--

"Alice, do you know what Thanksgiving Day is for?"

"Yes, sir; for turkey."

"Is that all?"

"No, sir; for plum pudding."

"What do you think about it, Prudy?"

"I think the same as Dotty does, sir," replied Prudy, with a wistful glance at her father's right hand, which held the carving knife.

"What do you say, Susy?"

"It comes in the almanac, just like Christmas, sir; and it's something about the Pilgrim Fathers and the Mayflower."

"No, Susy; it does not come in the almanac; the Governor appoints it. We have so many blessings that he sets apart one day in the year in which we are to think them over, and be thankful for them."

"Yes, sir; yes, indeed," said Susy. "I _always_ knew that."

"Now, before I carve the turkey, what if I ask the question all around what we feel most thankful for to-day? We will begin with grandmamma."

"If thee asks me first," said grandma Read, clasping her blue-veined, beautiful old hands, "I shall say I have everything to be thankful for; but I am most thankful for peace. Thee knows how I feel about war."

The children thought this a strange answer. They had almost forgotten there had ever been a war.

"Now, Mary, what have you to say?" asked Mr. Parlin of his wife.

"I am thankful we are all alive," replied Mrs. Parlin, looking at the faces around the table with a loving smile.

"And I," said her husband, "am thankful we all have our eyesight. I have thought more about it since I have visited two or three Blind Asylums.

Susy, it is your turn."

"Papa, I'm thankful I'm so near thirteen."

Mr. Parlin stroked his mustache to hide a smile. He thought that was a very _young_ remark.

"And you, Prudy?"

"I'm so thankful, sir," answered Prudy, reflecting a while, "so thankful _this_ house isn't burnt up."

"Bless your little grateful heart," said her father, leaning towards her and stroking her cheek. "For my part, I think one fire is quite enough for one family. I confess I never should have dreamed of being thankful we hadn't had _two_. Well, Alice, what have you to say? I see a thought in your eyes."

"Why, papa," said Dotty, laying her forefingers together with emphasis, "I've known what I'm thankful for, for two days. I'm thankful Mrs.

Rosenberg isn't my mother!"