nning away; now, in his maturer years, he
did not scruple to tease little folks, when they could be "tickled with
a straw" held under the chin, or when they were easily vexed, and
answered him back with an angry word or a furious scowl. He liked to
torture his "cousin Dimple." He said she shot out quills like a little
porcupine. She was a "regular brick," almost as smart as Johnny, and
that was saying a great deal; for Percy regarded the youthful Johnny as
a very promising child. He was sorry to have him corrected for trifling
follies. If Percy had had the care of him, the little fellow would not
have lived long, for the older brother quite approved of such amusements
as crossing pins on the railroad track, running under horses' feet,
and walking on the dizzy roof of a house.

Mr. Eastman was always very busy, and his wife had a deal of visiting to
do, so it usually happened that Johnny had more liberty than was good
for him.

Mrs. Parlin knew this, and did not like to have Dotty thrown very much
in his society, but just now it certainly could not be avoided; Dotty's
constant desire to "get out doors and run somewhere" seemed to be fully
gratified, for Johnny despised the inside of a house more than she did,
and they both roamed about during the day like a couple of gypsies.

Sometimes Prudy went with them, but their games were rather rough for
her taste. Susy and Florence were generally together, painting with
water-colors, pasting scrapbooks, and doing a variety of things in
which they did not care to have Prudy join. The dear little girl might
have been lonely, and possibly grieved, if she had been anything but a
"bird-child." As it was, she sang when she had no one to talk with, and,
whether the rain fell or the sun shone, always awoke with a smile, and
found the world as beautiful as a garden.

She amused herself by writing in her little red journal, which had come
out of the fire unharmed. Here is her account of the tragedy:--

"_July 7th._ I ought to tell about the fire; but I can't write with
mother's pen any more than Zip can write with a sponge.

"I am so sorry, but a boy fired a cracker. He didn't mean to burn up
the city at all. He just touched it off for fun.

"There was going to be a procession, but I believe it didn't
_process_. I never saw anything whiz and crack so in all my life!
The fire danced and ran all over the city as if it was alive! It
burnt just as if it