On this particular morning she had "waked up wrong." You all know what that means. Perhaps her dream stopped in the most interesting place, or perhaps some of the wonderful machinery of her body was out of order, and caused a twitching of the delicate nerves which lie under the skin. At any rate, when the cloudy sun peeped through the white curtains of Dotty's pleasant chamber, he found that little lady out of sorts. "There, now, how long have you been awake, Prudy? Why didn't you speak?" "O, it isn't anywhere near breakfast time, Dotty; Norah hasn't ground the coffee yet." "Then I should think she might! She knows I'm hungry, and that makes her be as slow as a board nail!--I'll tell you what I wish, Prudy. I wish the whole world was a 'normous cling-stone peach, so I could keep eating for always, and never come to the stone." "I don't know," replied Prudy, pleasantly. "I believe I'd rather have it a Bartlett pear--dead ripe." "H'm! You may have your old _Bartnot_ pears, Prudy Parlin; nobody wants 'em but just you! The next sweet, juicy peach that comes into this house I'll eat it myself, 'cause you don't like peaches; you just said you didn't!" Prudy was considerate enough to make no reply. By living with Dotty, she had learned many lessons in "holding her peace." "Perhaps we'd better get up," suggested she, rubbing her eyes. Whereupon Dotty pursed her little red lips. "Let's play keep house," answered she, for the sake of being cross-grained. "Well, I don't care much," said Prudy, anxious to keep the peace. They proceeded to make a tent of the upper sheet, and converse upon the trials of this troublesome life, as Mr. and Mrs. Carter, the two heads of a family. "There's our Sammy," said Prudy, dolefully, "our poor Sammy. I don't see, Mrs. Carter, what we shall do with that boy. Within a day or two he has taken to stealing acorns!" "Acorns!" responded Dotty, in a tragic tone. "O, Mr. Carter, I _sejest_ the best thing we can do is to stand him up in the sink, and pump water on him!" "I never thought of that, my dear wife! You are prob'bly correct!--prob'bly correct.--But what course _shall_ we pursue with Mary Ann, and Julia Ann, and Anna Maria? They all bite their finger nails--bite 'em down to the double-quick." "I would sejest, sejest--why don't you give those children some _proxitude_ of iron, my dear--through a knitting-needle? Hark!" continued she, as Prudy scratched the top of the tent with her forefinger. "There's a mouse in this house, Mr. Carter: you must set a trap as quick as you can spring!" "Very correct," replied the obedient husband, "very correct, Mrs. Carter. I'll call Jerusha to toast some cheese. Je-ru-_shay_!" "What do you mean by Jerusha, Mr. Carter? We haven't any in the house." "O, she is our chambermaid, my dear." "But I won't '_low_ her to be Jerusher, Mr. Carter!" "But, my dear wife, Jerusha is a proper name; it belongs to her."