As they turned another corner they met Susy, who had been sent to the dye-house. "Why, Dotty," said she, "what are you doing on that street?" Lina spoke up very boldly,-- "She's going to the doctor's with me, Susy Parlin, to get a plaster for my mother." At this wicked speech Dotty's heart almost sank into her boots; for she had never known before that Lina would tell a deliberate lie. Lina lived in a little grocery store. Her father was gone away to-day,> and her mother had just served a customer with a pound of damp brown sugar, saying, as she clipped the string,-- "It's very cheap sweetening at that price; we are going to rise on it to-morrow." After that she stood a minute in front of the store, and shook her head at Jacob, a little boy, some three years old, who was trying to balance a patent washboard against a tree which grew out of the brick pavement. It was a large, scrawny tree, which looked as if it was obliged to live there, but didn't want to, and had tried in vain to get burnt up in the Portland fire. From the lower branches of the tree depended a couple of dun-colored hams, and a painted board, with the words, "Good Family Butter." "Come in, Jacob, you naughty boy!" said Mrs. Rosenberg, this time shaking him, because she was afraid he would injure the patent wash-board. Then Jacob, who had been waiting for the shaking, and would not stir without it, went in at the side door crying; for the family lived in one end of the store. Mrs. Rosenberg had a great many children, and was obliged to work very hard at various employments. Just now she went to spreading pumpkin-seeds to dry under the stove. She was not expecting company; and when Mandoline entered with Dotty, she looked up from her work with a frown. "Who've you brought home with you this time, Mandoline Rosenberg?" said she. "Take off your hat and hang it over them tommatuses; but mind yer don't drop it into that dish of lard." "Mother," pleaded Mandoline, "we want to go up chamber to see my pretty things; her mother sent her a-purpose." "No, she didn't; no such a thing! You're a master hand to pick up children and fetch 'em home here, and then crawl out of it by lying! Besides, you've got to knit. I must have those socks done by to-morrow noon, Mandy, or I'll know the reason why." As Mrs. Rosenberg spoke, she pushed a waiter full of seeds under the stove as if she hated the very sight of them; and when she stood up again, Dotty observed that her dirty calico dress did not come anywhere near the tops of her calf-skin shoes. "But, mother," said Mandoline, with a winning smile, "this is Dotty Dimple, the little girl that gave me the needle-book." This was partly true. Dotty had given Mandoline an old needle-book; but it had been in return for some maple sugar, which the little Jewess had pilfered from her father's store. "Dotty Dimple, is it?" said Mrs. Rosenberg, with a sharp look at the little guest.