my hands, and didn't do me a speck of
good?"

"Why, Dotty, you surprise me! Any one would think you were brought up
a heathen! If you were a small child I could understand it."

"I knew I should have to do it," moaned Dotty.

"I advise you to lose no time about it, then; that is the cause of
your blues, I guess. We can't be happy out of the line of our duty,"
sighed Miss Polly, who regarded herself as a pattern of cheerfulness.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," said Dotty, resolutely; "I'm
going right off to pay that money to Prudy, and then I'll be in the
line of my duty."

CHAPTER XII.

FULL NIPPERKIN.

Prudy scorned to take the ten cents. "Did you think your 'middle-aged'
sister would do such a thing, when she has more money than you have,
Dotty Dimple? If you're only sorry, that's all I ask. I didn't like to
have you laugh, as if you didn't care."

"But, Prudy, I want to be honest."

"And so you have been, dear child," said grandma Parlin, with an
approving smile. "If Prudy chooses now to give you the money, receive
it as a present, and say, 'Thank you.'"

"O, thank you, Prudy Parlin, over and over, and up to the moon," cried
Dotty, throwing her arms around her kind sister's neck. "I'll never
lose anything of yours again; no, never, never!"

This lesson was laid away on a shelf in Dotty's memory. Close beside
it was another lesson, still more wholesome.

"Dotty Dimple isn't the best girl that ever lived. She had to be
talked to and talked to, before she was willing to do right. She isn't
any better than Jennie Vance, after all. Why did she pray that naughty
prayer, just to make Jennie feel bad? God must have thought it was
very strange!"

Grandma saw that Dotty's "blues" were dissolving like a morning mist;
still she knew the child was in need of patchwork, and told her so.

"Let us all take our work," said she, "and sit together in the
nursery, so we may forget the dull weather."

Grace brought her pique apron down stairs to make, Susy her tatting,
Prudy a handkerchief, Dotty a square of patchwork, while Flyaway
danced about for a needle and thread.

"What a happy group!" said Mrs. Clifford, looking up from her sewing.
She had forgotten Polly Whiting, who was mournfully toeing off a sock
for Horace, while he sat on the floor, at her feet, mending her
double-covered basket.

"Why, Katie, darling," said Grace, "what are you doing with that
beautiful ribbon?"

"Aunt Louise said I