Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Juvenile fiction
"If you'll let me stay at home," gasped Dotty, "if you'll _let_ me stay
at home, I'll live in the kitchen, and won't go near the table."
"Where _did you_ come from?" said Mr. Parlin, kissing a clean place on
Dotty's black face, and laughing under his breath.
"I came through the cellar window, papa."
"Through the cellar window, child?"
"Yes, papa; I didn't s'pose you'd care!"
"Care! My dear, your mother is the one to care! Just look at your
stockings!"
"There was coal there, thrown in," said Dotty, with a quivering lip;
"and I had to walk over it, and under it, and through it."
"Was my little daughter afraid to come in by the door?"
"I didn't know's you wanted me, papa.
"I thought you'd say, 'What strange child is this?'"
Mr. Parlin, looking at the black streaks on Dotty's woeful face, found it
very difficult to keep from laughing. "A strange child' she appeared to
be, certainly.
"But I'd got my visit all finished up, ever and ever so long ago."
"So you really chose to come back to us, my dear?"
"O, papa, you don't know! Did you think, did you s'pose--"
Here Dotty broke down completely, and, seizing her father's shirt-bosom
in both her grimy hands, she buried her face in it, and sprinkled it with
tears of ink.
There was great surprise throughout the house when Dotty's arrival
became known.
"We didn't know how to live without you any longer," said Prudy; "and
tomorrow Thanksgiving Day."
"But I never should have come up," said Dotty, "if I hadn't heard mamma
talk about loving me just the same; I never _could_ have come up."
"Excuse me for smiling," said Prudy; "but you look as if you had fallen
into the inkstand. It is _so_ funny!"
Dotty was not at all amused herself; but after she was dressed in clean
clothes, she felt very happy, and enjoyed her supper remarkably well. The
thought that they "didn't know how to live without her" gave a relish to
every mouthful.
It was a delightful evening to the little wanderer. The parlor looked so
cheerful in the rosy firelight that Dotty thought she "would like to kiss
every single thing in the room." It was unpleasant out of doors, and the
wind blew as if all the people in the world were deaf, and must be made
to hear; but Dotty did not mind that. She looked out of the window, and
said to Prudy,--
"Seems as if the wind had blown out all the stars; but no matter--is it?
It is all nice in the house."
Then she dropped the curtain, and went to sit in her mother's lap. Not a
word of reproach had been uttered by any one yet; for it was thought the
child had suffered enough.
"Mamma," said Dotty, laying her tired head on her mother's bosom, "don't
you think I'm like the prodigal's--daughter? Yesterday I felt a whisper
'way down in my mind,--I didn't hear it, but I _felt_ it,--and it said,
'You mustn't disobey your mamma; you mustn't play with Lina Rosenberg!'"
"Only think, my child, if you had only paid attention to that whisper!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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