Dotty Dimple At Play Part 8

"I'll give you twenty dolls," said Lina, "if you'll let me have your ring; and it isn't a very pretty ring, either; looks like bra.s.s."

Dotty locked her fingers together.

"You can't tease away my owny dony pearl, Lina, if it _is_ bra.s.s; so you needn't try."

"Mandoline!" called out Mrs. Rosenberg's sharp voice from down stairs, "are you at work?"

"O, dear!" said Lina, sauntering along to an old chest, and taking her knitting from the top of it; "that's always the way. I thought if you came, mother'd let me play."

Dotty understood from this remark why Lina had asked her to go home with her. It was not because she wished to hear any of Dotty's brilliant stories, for she had not asked a single question about Out West; it was because she hoped for a reprieve from the dreaded knitting.

"She's a real naughty little girl," thought Miss Dimple; "and if she hadn't hided my hat, I'd go right home."

There was a heavy tread on the stairs. Mrs. Rosenberg was coming up, partly to see if her daughter was knitting, and partly to hang a paper bag on the long pole overhead. Mandoline was dreadfully afraid of her mother, and, in her eagerness to be found hard at work, she rattled her needles very fast, while her fingers wandered aimlessly about among the st.i.tches. Mrs. Rosenberg detected the cheat at once; and, as she was needing the money for the socks, she scolded Mandoline soundly, and pelted her pretty little hands, rat, tat, tat, with a steel thimble.

Dotty was a little startled, and peeped out at Lina from the corners of her eyes. Mrs. Rosenberg scolded so hard that the paper bags overhead seemed to rattle, and some yellow pollen dropped out of one of them like shooting stars.

Dotty had never known that there are such cruel people in the world; but let me tell you, little reader, every mother is not like the gentle, low-voiced woman who takes you in her lap, and kindly reproves you when you have done wrong. No; there are very different mothers; hard-working, ignorant ones, who do not know how to treat their children any more than you know how to build a brick house.

Mrs. Rosenberg was so severe and unreasonable, that her little daughter, through fear of her, had learned to deceive. Still Mrs. Rosenberg loved Mandoline, and would have been a better mother, perhaps, if she had only known how, and had not had so much work to do.

Presently she went down stairs, and left the little girls together.

"Good!" said Lina, in a low voice. "She's gone; now we'll play."

"But you can't knit if you play, Lina. Tell me where you hided my hat, 'cause I want to go home."

"You shan't go home till after supper, you little darling Dotty Dimple."

"O, but I must go, for my mother doesn't know where I am," said Dotty, in a dreary tone. She had no longer any curiosity regarding Jewish suppers; all she wanted was the liberty to get away. But it is always easier to fall into a trap than to get out of it. Mandoline would not produce the missing hat, and it was no light matter for Dotty to go down stairs, among the noisy, quarrelsome children, and beg the severe Mrs. Rosenberg to take her part. If she did so, perhaps the woman would pelt her with the steel thimble. Perhaps, too, she would say Mandoline might keep the hat. So Dotty played "synagogue," and all the while the sun was dropping down, down the sky, as if it had a leaden weight attached to it, to make it go faster.

CHAPTER VI.

A STRANGE VISIT.

The same warfare of words continued to come up from the kitchen, and presently the odor of sausages stole up, too; Mrs. Rosenberg was preparing supper. It seemed to the impatient Dotty that she was a long while about it; but she worked as fast as she could, with so many children clinging to her skirts, and impeding her movements.

"Supper, Mandoline!" called she at last, in a shrill voice; and the little girls went down.

The supper was palatable enough, but very unwholesome, and the table-cloth was dirty and wrinkled.

"You don't seem to like my cooking," said Mrs. Rosenberg, with a displeased glance at Dotty's full plate.

"Yes'm," replied the little guest, faintly; "but I've eaten up my appet.i.te."

At the same time she swallowed a little oily gravy in desperation, and looked slyly to see if Solly was watching her. Yes, he was, and so were all the rest of the family, as if she had been a peculiar kind of animal, just caught and caged.

"I suppose they are dreadful nice folks at your house," continued Mrs.

Rosenberg. "I almost wonder your mother let you come here to play with my poor little girl. Mandy's just as good as you are, though,--you can tell her so,--and she's got a sight prettier eyes."

Dotty's heart kept swelling and swelling, till presently it seemed as if there wasn't room enough in her whole body to hold it. She thought of the cheerful, orderly tea-table at home; she recalled her mother's gentle ways, her lovely face, and longed to kiss her cheek, and whisper, "Forgive me."

"Mamma'll be just as patient with me," thought Dotty; "she always is! But if I once get home, I'll never make her patient any more. I'll never run away again; not unless she _asks_ me to--I won't."

The children, as fast as they finished their suppers, jumped up and ran away from the table--all but Solly, who had some faint idea that it was not polite to do so before company. He was a natural gentleman; and it was unfortunate that just at this time his mother was obliged to send him to Munjoy of an errand. Otherwise he would have made his sister give up Dotty's hat, and perhaps would have walked home with the unhappy child himself.

As it was, Dotty did not seem to have a friend in the world. It was now so dark that she hardly dared look out of doors; but even in the brightest daylight she could not have found her way home.

"You've got to stay all night," said Mandoline. "Isn't that splendid?"

Mandoline did not mean to be cruel. She had observed that her mother urged her own guests to stay, and sometimes kept them almost by force.

This she supposed was true politeness. More than that, she was anxious, for private reasons, to hold Dotty, so she might not have to knit so much. She knew, too, that her mother was proud to have such a well-bred little girl in the house. So she would not give up Dotty's hat.

At eight o'clock, Dotty went to bed with Mandoline in the unfinished chamber, sorely against her will; and Mandoline told her such dreadful stories that she could not close her eyes for fright.

"This is the queerest house I was ever in," thought she, "and the queerest bed. I s'pose it's made of pin-feathers, for they stick into me awfully."

The bed was on the floor, and was founded upon woolsacks and buffalo skins. The sleeping arrangements in this house were somewhat peculiar.

Mrs. Rosenberg was like the old woman in the shoe, and she stowed her numerous family away for the night in as little s.p.a.ce as possible. For instance, the four youngest children slept together in one trundle-bed, two at the top and two at the bottom, their feet coming together in the middle. But Mandoline had left the trundle bed, and was lying on the floor with her guest. The companion the trundle-bed--little Kosina--was quite indignant at being deserted, and made a loud outcry, in the hope of attracting her mother's attention.

"I don't want to sleep alone!" said she; "I don't want to sleep _alo-o-one!_"

At another time Dotty would have laughed heartily. It was so absurd for a child to be lonesome when there were three in the bed! But Dotty was too low-spirited even to smile. Mrs. Rosenberg came up and boxed Rosina's ears; and after that the trundle-bed subsided.

At last, when Dotty supposed it must be midnight, though it was only nine o'clock, there came a loud knocking at the side door. She hid her face under the coverlet, feeling sure it was either a wild Indian or a highway robber.

"Don't be afraid," said Mandoline, rousing herself. "It is somebody after beer, and mother has locked up the store."

No, it was Mr. Parlin's voice which spoke. Dotty's swollen heart gave a great bound, and then sank heavier than ever.

"My little daughter Alice has run away." That was what he said. "Is she in your house, Mrs. Rosenberg?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Rosenberg, "I expect its likely she is; but she and my Mandoline's been abed and asleep two hours."

"O, papa, I'm wide awake!" cried little Dotty, with an eager shriek, which pierced the rafters.

"Good night, then," said Mr. Parlin, coldly.

"O, but, papa, I want to go home. What did my mamma say about me?"

"She said she had sent you of an errand. When you have finished your errand, you may come home. Good night."

"O, NOT good night!" screamed Dotty, almost falling down stairs in her haste, and fastening her dress as she ran. "It was 'cause Lina hid my hat; and that was why--"

"By the way," said Mr. Parlin, without paying the slightest attention to his half-frantic little daughter, who was clinging to his knees, and pleading with her whole soul, "Mrs. Rosenberg, I'm sorry to trouble you, but if you will be kind enough to keep this little runaway girl till I send for her, I shall be very much obliged."