nd shut up in jail, and
everything else."

Then Mrs. Parlin soothed her with kind words, but told the truth with
every one.

"No 'm," Jennie said; "it wasn't right to take fruit-cake without
leave, or tell wrong stories either; she wouldn't any more. Yes'm, she
would try to be good--she never had tried much.--Yes 'm, she would ask
God to help her. Should you suppose He would do it?

"Yes 'm, she would ask Him not to let her have much temptation. She
did believe she would rather be a good girl--a real good girl, like
Prudy, _not like Dotty_!--than to have a velvet dress with spangles
all over it."

All this while Dotty did not waken. In the morning she was surprised
to see her little bedfellow looking so cheerful.

"I've told your grandmother all about it," said Jennie with a smile.
"I knew I did wrong, but I don't believe I should have meant to if you
hadn't acted so your _own_ self--now that's a fact."

"You haven't seen my grandmother," returned Dotty, not noticing the
last clause of her friend's remark. "You dreamed it."

"No, she came in here and forgave me. She's the best woman in this
world. What do you think she said about you, Dotty Dimple? She said
there were other little girls full as good as you are. There!"

"O!"

"Said you 'often did wrong,' that's _just_ what," added Jennie,
correcting herself, and making sure of the "white truth."

Step by step Dotty came down from the mountain-top, and, before
breakfast was ready, had led her visitor through the morning dew to
the playhouse under the trees, chatting all the way as if nothing had
happened.

It proved that the money belonged to Abner. He had missed it several
weeks before, and ever since that had been suspecting old Daniel
McQuilken, a day laborer, of stealing it.

"I'm ashamed of it now," said Abner to Ruth, "though I didn't tell
anybody but you. I wish you'd mix a pitcher of sweetened water, and
let me take it out to the field to old Daniel. I feel as if I wanted
to make it up to him some way."

Ruth laughed; and when Abner came into the house at ten o'clock, she
had a pitcher of molasses and water ready for him, also a plate of
cherry turnovers. Flyaway insisted upon toddling over the ground with
one of the turnovers in her apron.

"Man," said she, when they reached the field, and she saw the Irishman
with his funny red and white hair, "what's your name, man?"

He wiped his face with his checked shirt-sleeve, and took a turnover
fro