it?"

Dotty moaned with pain, and between her moans she talked very fast.

"And all this time," said she, "we haven't any ducks!"

Prudy, who was dropping off to sleep, murmured, "No."

"But it's real too bad, Prudy. I never saw such a lazy old hen--did you?
Prudy, _did_ you?"

Presently, when Prudy thought it must be nearly morning, there was a
clutch upon her shoulder, and a voice cried in her ear,--

"I don't see what makes you go to sleep, Prudy Parlin, when my foot
aches so bad! And O, how I want a drink o' water!"

Prudy thought she should never find the match-box; but she did at last,
and lighted the lamp after several trials. It was dreary work, though,
going down stairs with those sticks in her eyes, to get the water.

Dotty drained the nipperkin at two draughts, and said it wasn't half
enough.

"O, you shall have all you want, little sister," said Prudy, kindly;
"you may drink up the whole barrel if you like."

So down she went again, and this time brought a pitcher. On her return
she found Dotty weeping in high displeasure.

"You told me to drink up that whole barrel, you did," cried the
unreasonable child, shaking her head.

"Did I?" said Prudy; "well, dear, I didn't mean anything."

"But you _said_ so--the whole, whole barrel," repeated Dotty rocking
back and forth; "you talk to me just as if I--was--black!"

"Hush!" said Prudy, "or you'll wake grandma. Let me see; do you want me
to tell you a conundrum? Why does an elephant carry his trunk?"

"I don't know; I s'pose he can't help it; it grows on the end of his
nose."

"That isn't the answer, though, Dotty; it's because--because he's a
traveller!"

"An elephant a traveller? Where does he travel to? I don't believe it."

"Well," replied Prudy, "I can't see any sense in it myself. O, stop a
minute! Now I know; I didn't tell it right. This is the way; 'Why is an
elephant like a traveller? Because he carries a trunk!' Isn't that
funny?"

"I don't care anything about your elephants," said Dotty; "if you don't
try to please me, Prudy Parlin, you'll have to wake up grandma, and
call her in here, or I shall cry myself sick!"

Patient Prudy crept into bed, but left the lamp burning.

"Suppose we make up some poetry?" said she.

"Why, you don't know how to make up poetry--do you?" said Dotty, leaning
on her elbow, and looking with dreamy eyes at the engraving of Christus
Consolator at the foot of the bed. "I love poetry when they read it in