Dotty looked deeply dejected. "Little sister," continued Prudy, taking advantage of the child's softened mood, "don't you wish you didn't let yourself be so angry?" "Yes, I do, so there!" was the quick and earnest reply. Prudy was astonished. It was the first time this proud sister had ever acknowledged herself wrong. "Then, Dotty, what if you try to be good, and see how 'twill seem?" "Won't you tell anybody, Prudy?" "No, never." "Well, I _will_ be good! I can swallow it down if I want to." Observe what faith the child had in herself! Prudy clapped her hands. "There, don't you talk any more," added Miss Dimple, with a sudden sense of shame, and a desire to conceal her emotions. "Let's make pictures on the slate." Prudy was ready for anything; her heart was very light. She was too wise to remind Dotty of her new resolution; but she kept a journal, and that evening there was a precious item to make in it. I think, by the way, that Prudy's habit of keeping a journal was an excellent thing. She learned by the means to express her thoughts with some degree of clearness, and it was also an improvement to her handwriting. "_July 2d._ My sister Dotty thinks, certain, positive, she _will_ be a good girl; and this is the day she begins. But I shall not tell anybody, for I promised, 'No, never.' "My mother told her about a girl that almost killed a dear little boy because they asked her to give him baked apples and milk. I heard my father say to my mother that he thought the story pierced Dotty like _a two-leg-ged_ sword. So I don't think she will ever get angry again. Finis." Prudy always added the word "Finis" at the close of her remarks each day, considering it a very good ending. CHAPTER III. FIRE. For a few days after this, Dotty Dimple had little time to think of her new resolution. Nothing occurred to call forth her anger, but a great deal to fill her with astonishment and awe. The three little girls, for the first time in their lives, were learning a lesson in the uncertainty of human events. They had never dreamed that anything about their delightful home could ever change. If they thought of it at all, they supposed their dear father and mother, and their serene grandmamma Read, would always live, and be exactly as they were now; that their home would continue beautiful and bright, and there would be "good times" in it as long as the world stands. It is true they heard at church that it is not safe for us to set our affections too strongly upon things below, because they may fail us at any moment, and there is nothing sure but heaven. Still, like most children, they listened to such words carelessly, as to something vague and far away. It was only when they were left, in one short day, without a roof over their heads, that Susy sobbed out,-- "O, Prudy, this world is nothing but one big bubble!" And Prudy replied, sadly,-- "Seems more like shavings!"