Prudy Keeping House Part 13

"But, Dotty, why do you want to go back to auntie's to-night?"

"I want to go for something particular. I--" Prudy's mouth was opening for another question. "Because I---I've swallowed something the wrong way."

"O Dotty, not a pin!"

"No; what you s'pose? Guess I've done something to my windpipe. Wish you wouldn't talk."

Prudy, in spite of her vexation, could not help smiling at Dotty's fierce grimaces, of which she got a vanishing view as the child went into the curtain again.

"If we don't go home, Prudy, I'll have to go right to bed. I don't feel like sitting up."

"Then I must ask Mrs. Pragoff where we are to sleep."

And next minute Prudy was half way down stairs, thinking,--

"What's gone wrong? I never can find out by asking _her_. She don't think or care how impolite she is, and how hard she makes it for me."

It was a very brilliant party, composed of some of the most refined and accomplished little people in the city of New York. Such fine dresses and such die-away manners overawed Prudy. She did wish her mamma had sent a thin summer dress in the trunk. It was dreadful to have to wear woollen, high-necked and long-sleeved. It cost her a great effort to cross the room. She felt as awkward as a limping gra.s.shopper in a crowd of b.u.t.terflies. But reaching her hostess at last, she timidly whispered,--

"My sister _says_ she isn't very well, Mrs. Pragoff, and that's why she stays up stairs. If you please, perhaps she'd better go to bed."

Prudy was very much ashamed to say this; but politeness required her to make some excuse for wayward Dotty's behavior.

Of course Mrs. Pragoff went up stairs at once. At the sound of her steps, and the words, "You poor, forlorn little dear," Dotty came out of the curtain, looking as miserable as could be desired.

"I am so sorry, darling! I wished you to become acquainted with these nice little gentlemen and ladies."

"But I--I--it hurts me to talk, ma'am."

"_Your_ throat, too? O, my love!" cried Mrs. Pragoff, seeing a dreadful vision, with her mind's eye, of two cases of scarlet fever. She was a childless widow, and children puzzled as well as interested her. She did not know what to make of Dotty's confused statement that she "wasn't sick and wasn't well," but undressed and put her to bed as if she had been six months old, resolving to send for the doctor in the morning.

"What have you on your neck, precious? O, that rosary. It is one of my curiosities. Do you fancy it?"

"Here is the box in which it belongs. I give you the box and the beads, my charming dear, for a Christmas present and a consolation. See the card at the bottom of the box:--

"'Life is a rosary, Strung with the beads of little deeds Done humbly, Lord, as unto Thee.'

"I hope your life will be the most beautiful of rosaries, darling, and all your little deeds as lovely as these beads.

"And now, good night, and may the Christ-Child give you your dreams."

As soon as Dotty was alone, she covered her head with the bed-clothes, and made up faces. She wished she could push herself through the footboard, and come out at Portland. She never wished to set eyes on the city of New York again, or anybody that lived in it.

CHAPTER IX.

TWO LIVE CHILDREN.

As Dotty lay tossing on her bed, she heard the laughing, and the lively music of the piano, and began to find she had missed a great deal by not going down stairs.

Horace and Prudy were getting a taste of fashionable society. True, Prudy did tire of the fixed questions, "How do you like New York? Have you been in the Park?" asked by girls in pink, and girls in blue, and boys in wondrous neck-ties, with hair parted very near the middle. She was astonished when Mrs. Pragoff proposed games. How could such exquisite children play without tearing their flounces and deranging their crieped hair? But games were a relief to Prudy. When she was playing she forgot her thick winter dress, and appeared like herself.

"I don't believe Dotty can get to sleep in all this noise. Here's a nice chance to slip out, and I'll run up and see."

She was not quite sure of the room, but the words, "Is that you, Prudy?"

in an aggrieved voice, showed her the way.

"How do you feel, darling?"

"Feel? How'd _you_ feel going to bed right after dinner?"

"But you said you were sick."

"Well, yes; my--windpipe; but that's done aching. I can talk now. You get my clothes, and I'll dress and go down stairs."

"Why, Dotty, I've excused you to Mrs. Pragoff, and it wouldn't be polite to go now."

"Why not? Mother went down once with her head tied up in vinegar.

Besides, it shakes me all over to hear such a noise. And it's not polite to stay away when the party's some of it for me."

Prudy resigned herself to this new mortification, and helped the child dress.

Dotty went down stairs with such an appearance of restored health, that Mrs. Pragoff was quite relieved, and gave up her fear of scarlet fever.

But Miss Dimple's friends were all sorry, half an hour afterwards, that she had not staid in bed.

Among other games, they played "Key to Unlock Characters;" and here she proved herself anything but polished in her manners. The key coming to her as "the girl with the brightest eyes," she was told, in a whisper, to give it to the person of whom she had such or such an opinion. The little boys were interested to know which one of them would get it, for it was usually considered a compliment. But Dotty did not notice any of the boys; she quickly stepped up to a young girl with frizzes of hair falling into her eyes, and gay streamers of ribbons flying abroad.

Little miss took the key with an affected smile and a shake of her s.h.a.ggy locks, never doubting she was receiving a great honor.

But when, at the close of the game, the players explained themselves, Mallie Lewis was startled by these words from the little Portland girl:--

"I was told to give the key to the most horrid-looking person in the room, and _I did so_!"

Dotty had not stopped to reflect that "the truth should not be spoken at all times," and is often out of place in games of amus.e.m.e.nt. But to do her justice, she was ashamed of her rudeness the moment the words were spoken. Prudy was blushing from the roots of her hair to the lace in her throat. "Why hadn't Dotty given the key to Horace or herself? Then n.o.body would have minded."

Ah, Prudy, your little sister, though more brilliant than you are, has not your exquisite tact.

Mrs. Pragoff tried to laugh off this awkward blunder, but did not succeed. The moment Dotty could catch her ear, she said, in a low tone,--

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Pragoff-yetski. Will it do any good to go and tell her she made me think of a Shetland pony?"

Mrs. Pragoff laughed, and thought not. But afterwards she took Mallie into a corner to show her some "seven-years" African flowers, and said,--

"Mallie, dear, I wish you wouldn't veil those bright eyes under such fuzzy little curls. That was why you got the key. Dotty Dimple isn't used to seeing young ladies look like Shetland ponies."

Mallie's face brightened, or that part of it which was in sight. O, it was only her hair the country child called horrid! After this she actually allowed Dotty to sit beside her on the sofa, and look at the fan which Mrs. Pragoff said Marie Antoinette had once owned. Miss Dimple was remarkably polite and reserved.