and put him in a bear's buffalo coat, and that makes a
doctor."

"And a gig," said Horace, "and some sharp things, and lots of little
bottles."

"What children!" said Grace, looking down upon them with a lofty
smile. "Why, Prudy, what _have_ you got in your pocket?"

"O, I don't know," said Prudy, throwing her hands behind her.
"_Goodness_ won't hurt me, will it, Susy?"

"I guess _you_ ain't good enough to hurt."

"Well, grandma says not to eat green apples," said the child, "but
she'd be willing I could chew 'em and get the _good_ all out--don't
you s'pose she would?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Susy; "you must ask."

"Well, I never teased for any. Horace gave 'em to me, and I shan't
swallow 'em."

"O, what a little snipe," cried Grace, laughing, "your pocket is
stuffed so full it's going to burst open, and you'll be sick again,
now you see!"

"Sick?" repeated Prudy, looking frightened, for she did not forget her
severe illness; "then I'll throw 'em away. I don't love such sour
things anyhow. I was only _hung-buggin_'."

And Prudy went down the wooden stairs which led from the trees, and
walked slowly towards the house, dropping the green apples one by one
into the grass.

At the kitchen door she met her aunt Madge, who was in tears.

"O auntie," said she, "I'm going to wash my hands spandy clean, and
then are you willing there is any thing I can have to eat?"

"Cookies, if you like, my dear."

"O auntie," cried Prudy, eager with a new thought, "won't you tell me
where them raisins is--the ones you didn't put in the pudding? Tell
me, O, do, do! If you will, I won't touch 'em, true as the world."

"Then why do you want to know where they are?" said aunt Madge, a
faint smile flitting across her face and then dying out again.

"O, 'cause," said Prudy, "then I can tell Susy, and _she_ can get
'em!"

"You can each of you have a handful," said aunt Madge, reaching down
the box. "You may have some, for I know you wouldn't take them without
leave, and Susy wouldn't either, you funny child!"

"Now," said she, putting the raisins in Prudy's apron, "I want you to
go out of doors and keep very still."

"Why do you cry so, my dearest auntie in the world?" said Prudy,
climbing into a chair, and throwing her arms around her auntie's neck,
while the raisins dropped to the floor; "is Mr. 'Gustus Allen dead?"

"No," said aunt Madge, hugging little Prudy as if she was good for the
heartache, "the baby i