g to you!" she said, laying down
the law with her mite of a forefinger; and, to make her words more
impressive, giving him an occasional tap on the nose. He listened
dutifully, as if he were the sole transgressor; but interrupted the
homily now and then by lapping the hand of his little mistress with his
tiny red tongue, as a token of the perfect understanding between them.

When they looked up and saw Joan, both glanced at her deprecatingly,
but quite ready to assume a defensive attitude. Ashamed of having
allowed her indignation to carry her so far, she was, however, inclined
to be conciliatory; and therefore, with an effort, managed to say, as
if nothing had happened:

"Come, Tilderee! Watch at the window for father, while I get dinner
ready."

Tilderee at once sprang to her feet gaily, threw her arms around Joan's
waist, and held up her rosy mouth for the kiss of mutual forgiveness,
Fudge wriggling and wagging his tail.

Joan now busied herself about the mid-day meal, for which her mother
had made the principal preparation before setting out. She said
nothing about the tragedy of the morning when her father came in,
partly because she felt that nobody could appreciate the depth of her
grief but mother, and because she had made up her mind not to complain
of Tilderee,--a conclusion which she secretly felt entitled her to rank
as a heroine. But Tilderee related the occurrence herself as soon as
her mother returned.

"Fudge and me broke Joan's beauty doll. We didn't mean to, and we're
awful sorry,--honest and true we are!"

"But that will not mend Angelina," said Mrs. Prentiss, gravely.

Tilderee hung her head. She now realized for the first time, that no
matter how grieved we are, we can not always repair the wrong we have
done. The mother, though a plain, uneducated woman, had plenty of good
sense, and did her best to train her children well. She now talked
very seriously to her little daughter, and Tilderee promised to be less
meddlesome and more obedient in the future.

"Fudge and me wants to be good," she said, penitently; "but we forgets.
P'rhaps if we were other folks, and our names were something else
'sides Tilderee and Fudge, we might be better."

"I'm afraid Fudge is a hard case," sighed her mother, restraining a
smile; "and I should not like to see my little girl changed into any
one else. But I expect we ought to call you as you were christened,
and that is Matilda. It is a saint's na