Percy Eastman was as glad to carry his spirited little cousin back as he had been to bring her to his house.  Mrs. Parlin rode too; but Susy and Prudy walked.

When they came to the tree which contained the birds’ nest, Prudy parted the branches, but the nestlings were not to be seen; the mother-bird had gathered them under her wings, out of sight.

“Hush!” whispered Susy; “hear them peep!  Let’s go; we’ll frighten the old birdie out of her wits.”

“I wish you could see them, Susy; then you’d know how cunning they are; and now you never’ll know.  But it doesn’t seem a bit like orphan children since their mother’s got home.”

“Makes me think of our mamma, and her three little children,” said Susy, taking her sister’s hand.

“Yes,” said Prudy, her face radiant with a glow of love, warm from her heart; “how good our mother always is, and always was, before ever our reasons grew!  Think what we’d do this night, Susy Parlin, if there wasn’t any mother to our house!”

CHAPTER V.

FANNY HARLOW’S PARTY.

“Kiss me, little sister,” said Prudy, “and let me go, for I must get ready for the party.”

“I know where you’re goin’,” said Dotty; “why can’t I go too?”

Little did innocent Prudy dream of the queer thoughts which were chasing one another in her little sister’s brain.  After she and Susy had gone, and the house was quite still, Dotty stood at the window, looking down street.  It was a lovely day; the clouds were “softer than sleep.”

“O, my suz!” said Dotty Dimple; “there they go, way off, way off, Susy and Prudy.  Bof of ’em are all gone.  Nobody at home but me.  Didn’t ask me to her party, Fanny Harlow didn’t.”

Dotty heaved a deep sigh, took her black baby out of its cradle, and shook it with all her might.

“What you lookin’ to me for, Phib?  I wasn’t a ‘peakin’ to you.  I’m goin’ to cover you all up, Phib, so you won’t hear me think.”

Then Dotty looked out of the window again.  “What a good little girl I am,” thought she, “not to be a cryin’!  Prudy’d cry!  There goes the blacksmif’s shop.”  Dotty meant the blacksmith.  “His mother lets him go everywhere.  Everybody’s mother lets ’em go everywhere.”

A prettily dressed little girl passed the window.

“How do you do, little girl?” whispered Dotty, in a voice so low that even the cat did not hear.  “O, what a booful hat you’ve got!  Would your mamma make you wear a rainy dress, like mine?  No, she wouldn’t.  Your mamma lets you go to parties all the days only Sundays.  My mamma has sticked me into the nursery, and nothin’ but a dar’needle to sew with!  O, hum!  And I haven’t runned away since forever’n ever!  They don’t ’low me to run away.  Wish Fanny Harlow’d asked me to her party.  I know why she never!  ’Cause she forgot I was born.”