The air inside the house was rather stifling from a mixture of odors, and soon the grocery began to fill with loud-talking men and boys; but not the least of Dotty's troubles was the black and tan dog, who seemed to have just such a temper as Mrs. Rosenberg, and would certainly have scolded if he had had the gift of speech. The two little girls went out to walk; but it was not a pleasant street where the grocery stood, and Dotty hurried on to a better part of the town. They fluttered about for two or three hours, as aimless as a couple of white butterflies. Just as they were turning to go back to the dismal little grocery, which Dotty thought was more like a lock-up than ever, they met Mr. and Mrs. Parlin riding out in a carriage. [Illustration: DOTTY AND THE BLACK-AND-TAN DOG.] Dotty felt a sudden tumult of joy and shame, but the joy was uppermost. She rushed headlong across the street, swinging her arms and startling the horse, who supposed she was some new and improved kind of windmill, dressed up in a little girl's clothes. "O, my darling mamma, my darling mamma!" To her surprise, the horse did not stop. He only pricked up his ears, and looked with displeasure at the windmill, but kept along as before. "Mamma, mamma, I say!" Her mother never even looked at her, but turned her gaze to the blackened trees, the heaps of ruin along the pavement. "O; papa! O, stop, papa! It's me! It's Dotty!" Mr. Parlin bent on his runaway daughter a glance of indifference, and called out, in passing,-- "What strange little girl is this, who seems to know us so well? It _looks_ like my daughter Alice. If it is, she needn't come to my house to-day; she may go and finish her visit at Mrs. Rosenberg's." Then the horse trotted on,--indeed, he had never paused a moment,--and carried both those dear, dear people out of sight. What did they mean? What had happened to Dotty Dimple, that her own father and mother did not know her? She looked down at the skirt of her dress, at her gaiters, at her little bare hands, to make sure no wicked fairy had changed her. Not that she suspected any such thing. She understood but too well what her father and mother meant. They knew her, but had not chosen to recognize her, because they were displeased. Dotty's little heart, the swelling of which had net gone down at all during the night, now ached terribly. She covered her face with her hands, and groaned aloud. "Don't," said Mandoline, touched with pity. "They no business to treat you so." "O, Lina, don't you talk! You don't know anything about it. You never had such a father'n mother's they are! And now they won't let me come into the house!"