custards.

Nothing pleased Miss Dimple so well as to govern a household. She ruled
with a rod of iron.

In the midst of a caution to her servant-maid, Prudy, "not to burn her
biscuits as black as so'-leather," she was surprised to see her
twinkling off a tear.

"O, Prudy, I didn't mean to scold," said she, in the tenderest tones.

"Poh, as if I minded your make-believe, Dotty! I was only thinking about
aunt Madge--that's all."

"What has she done?" asked Dotty as she went on stamping her mud cake
with the head of a pin.

"It isn't done yet, Dotty; but it will be. She's going to be married."

Dotty dropped her mud-cake. "Why! who to? Abner?"

"O, dear, no! To Mr.--I mean Colonel--Augustus Allen. Didn't you ever
hear of that?"

"Was that why he sent his objections to mamma?" asked Dotty, in a low
voice.

"He sent his _respects_ to mother, if that's what you mean; and in the
same letter he said, 'Give oceans of love to Prudy.' As if it wasn't bad
enough to break my heart, without trying to drown me," murmured Prudy,
with dripping eyes.

"I don't see what you're crying for," broke in her little sister. "I
shall marry my papa one of these days. I should think you'd feel badder
about that. Who's _you_ goin' to marry, Prudy?"

"Nobody, Dotty, as long as I live! I shall stay at home with my mother,
and she'll be sitting in the rocking-chair, knitting, and father'll be
sitting by the window, reading the paper.--But there," added she, "aunt
Madge might be married three or four times, and I wouldn't care. It's
her going to New York that makes my heart ache so."

"Well, shell come back bimeby," said Dotty, soothingly.

"O," replied Prudy, with a wise smile; "seems to me when I was four
years old I knew a great deal more than you do, child! People that are
married stay away always."

"I wish they wouldn't," cried Dotty, beginning to feel alarmed. "I'll
ask Colonel 'Gustus to marry Abby Grant after she gets growed, and let
my auntie stay at home."

"The worst of it is," continued Prudy, glad of her sister's sympathy,
such as it was, "Colonel Allen is a lawyer."

"Well, isn't lawyers as good as white folks?"

"The only trouble with lawyers, Dotty, is, that they can't write so you
can read it. My father told me so. He said their writing was like
turkey's tracks. He said it looked as if a fly had got into the
inkstand, and crawled over the paper."

Dotty's face was the picture of distress.

"It's a drefful th