Dotty Dimple at School

THE FIRST DAY.

“O, dear, dear! Who set this basket down on my white apron? All wrinkled up! I can’t go to school! And me with a new book, bought day before yesterday!”

“It was I, little sister,” said Prudy, gently. “It was an accident; I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your apron.”

“O, it isn’t hurt any,” replied Dotty, in a different tone; “not a speck, Prudy. But won’t you please button my boots? There, I wish I was a horse, and then my shoes would be nailed on, and be done with it.”

When the boots were buttoned, Dotty was in another flutter.

“Isn’t it time to start yet? What a slow clock! Only eight! I’m going down to help Norah hang out the clothes.”

“Just the napkins and little things, Norah,” said she, suddenly appearing in the back-door yard with her apron half fastened. “I’ll have time before I go to school, and mamma’s always willing.”

“Well, I suppose if you must, you must,” said Norah, trying to talk with a clothespin in her mouth; “but it’s pretty cold weather for little girls like you to be out, with nothing on their heads.”

Dotty took up a handkerchief, shook it once or twice, and spread it on the line; but before she had secured it with a clothespin, it was frozen stiff.

“Why, Norah, what makes you starch the clothes before you put them out? Why don’t you wait till they’re dry?”

“It isn’t starch, Miss Dotty; it’s the cold weather. You’d better run into the house before you freeze.”

“Why, I haven’t hung out but one napkin and two hangerjifs, Norah.”

“No matter; your hands are as red as lobsters; and, another thing, you’re shaking the clothes all to pieces. Did I ever tell you how your sister Prudy was served once, when she was a wee thing, and wouldn’t mind me?”

“Didn’t Prudy always mind? You said she did.”

“Well, no; once Prudy was naughty. I told her to go away from the door, and not touch the frosty nails; but she didn’t pay any heed; and by and by she came crying to me, and do you believe, there were nails sticking to her fingers.”

“Honest? truly?”

“Yes; Prudy remembers it, I know.”

“I mean to go ask her,” said Dotty, dropping a collar and bounding away. “Prudy,” said she, rushing into the house breathless, her cheeks and the tip of her nose glowing with the kisses of the wind. “I’ll tell you something. Did you ever have nails sticking to your fingers?”

“Yes, and I have now,” replied Prudy, holding out her hands, and exhibiting her rosy finger-tips.

“O, those! Why, Prudy Parlin, I think you’re real too-bad, and Norah too! She didn’t want me to spread clo’es; so she told a hint. She’s always telling hints. If I was a Cath’lic, and little girls wanted to hang out clo’es, and make thimble-cookies and things, I wouldn’t treat ’em so, and say there was nails, when I meant fingernails!”

“O, well, Dotty, Norah thinks we are try-patiences, I s’pose. Mother doesn’t allow her to scold, and so she has to manage.”

“H’m!” ejaculated Dotty, with a curling lip. But all this while the “slow clock” was busy.

“Now it is a quarter OF,” said Prudy. She uttered the words as coolly as if they were of very slight importance; but Dotty’s little heart beat like a drum. How often had she heard Prudy say, “It’s a quarter of,” and seen her skip out of the house, kissing her hand for good by! As the door closed after her, Dotty had always felt as if it shut herself out of something beautiful--something every way desirable.

And now it was coming,--the day and the hour. She was about to be a school-girl at last. No longer a little child, who stays at home and plays with paper dolls, but a little woman, who goes out to learn the ways of the world.

As the two children walked on together in advance of Susy, every object looked to Dotty wondrous fair.

“Prudy,” said she, confidentially, “I’ve played enough. I may play a little more once in a while, but not much. I want to grow a great lady, like mamma, and read poetry, and write letters.”

“Yes, dear; but when you get to talking so fast, you keep pushing me into the street with your elbow.”

“Do I? I didn’t mean to. O, how white the world is! Looks like a frosted cake. Prudy, don’t you wish you’s dead?”

“No; what an idea!”

“Nor I don’t, either.”

“Then what made you ask if I did, Dotty Dimple?”

“O, I was only thinking about the angels sifting down snow. Look at the drift top o’ that store. So hard you could jump on it, and not leave a scar.”

“Please, Dotty, keep your elbow still. Here we are at the school-house. Now remember, you must behave like a little lady.”

“Needn’t tell me that, Prudy Parlin. It isn’t as if I was some girls, that don’t know your A B C’s. Six years old--going on seven. Can--”

Dotty was about to say, “Can tie a bow-knot,” and would have added quite a list of other accomplishments; but as she found herself just then in a crowd of little girls, she very prudently closed her lips, and entered the school-room.

“Miss Parker, this is my little sister Alice,” said Prudy, going up to the teacher; “but people know what you mean better if you say ‘Dotty Dimple.’ She has never been to school before; but she can read in the First Reader, if you let her spell the hard words aloud.”

“Very well,” said Miss Parker, with a smile. “I welcome Prudy Parlin’s sister; and if she is half as good as Prudy, I shall never like to part with her to go up stairs.”

Prudy slid her hand into Miss Parker’s. She remembered how that warm-hearted young lady had kissed her with tears when she left the primary department.

“O, I think she’ll be good, Miss Parker,” said Prudy, in a low voice, while Dotty was looking out of the window; “only she never went to school in her life, and if she doesn’t sit very still, I hope you’ll try to excuse her.”

Miss Parker gave the little pleader a hearty embrace.