"Dear me, Dotty, that is a beautiful ring on your finger. I wish I had one just like it." Dotty cast a suspicious glance at her sister. "Don't you try to pacify ME, Prudy Parlin." Prudy held a handful of southernwood to her nose, and smiled behind it. "This isn't _temper_, Prudy Parlin, 'cause you said your own self they 'bused me." "Such a cunning little pearl!" remarked Prudy, still admiring the ring; "how glad I should be if you'd wish it on to my finger, Dotty!" "They 'bused me, Prudy Parlin, and you know it." "Only till night, Dotty Dimple. Just wish it on till night." "Well, there," exclaimed Dotty, at last; "hold out your finger if you can't stop teasing. But I _haven't_ any temper, and you needn't act just's if you's trying to pacify me." "O, thank you, Dotty; on my third finger." "Now I've wished it on, Prudy; and its a good-enough wish for you, when you won't pity me; but now I'm going up in the bathing-room to stay, and you can't make me come down--not a single step." "I shan't want you to come down, Dotty. There's the very place I'm going to myself. We'll carry up the needle-gun; it's the nicest thing to play with. Come, let's hurry up stairs the back way, little sister, for they'll be out from dinner, and see us." Dotty needed no second hint. In half an hour she was so far recovered from the _megrims_ as to be hungry; when Prudy secretly begged some pudding for her of the willing Angeline. Then the same little peacemaker went to her cousins, and made them each and all promise to be more careful of her sister's feelings; after which there was nut-cracking in the wood-shed, and a loud call for Miss Dimple, who consented to go down after much urging, and was the merriest one of the whole party. CHAPTER V. PLAYING TRUANT. For several days after her return Dotty Dimple was in a state of jubilee. She had a great deal to tell, and the whole household was ready to listen. Norah would stand with a dish or a rolling-pin in her hand, and almost forget what she had intended to do in her desire to hear every word Miss Dotty was saying. Once, when she related her adventure with the pigeon-pie, grandma Read, who was clear-starching her caps, let the starch boil over on the stove; and at another time Mrs. Parlin was so much absorbed in a description of Phebe, that she almost spiced a custard with cayenne pepper. All these evidences of interest were very flattering to Dotty. Sometimes she took Prudy one side, and told her the same story twice over, to which Prudy always listened with unfailing politeness. As I said before, while this excitement lasted Miss Dimple was in a state of jubilee. But by and by the novelty wore off; she had told the family everything she could possibly think of, and now longed for a few pairs of fresh ears into which to pour her stories. Everybody else was working for Christmas; Dotty alone was idle; for no one had time to give her a daily stint, and see that she accomplished it.