“Why, ’tisn’t A nothing—­is it?”

“Dear me,” thought Prudy, “I don’t see how folks do keep school.  I’m getting just as hungry—­and cross!”

When Dotty had learned A so well that she knew it at a glance, her teacher proceeded to the next letter, which stood on the block for a bat.  Dotty said the picture looked “like Zip with an umbrella over him.”

After the second story, she was tired of the business.

“Look out the window, Prudy.  See that whale!  O, you April fool!”

The young sister sighed over her sister’s light-minded behavior.  When they came to C, which stood for cat, Dotty seized her kitty and tried to feed her with lozenges.  But Pusheen turned away her head with a gesture which signified,—­

“Candy isn’t fit to touch.  I’d eat a mouse with you, with pleasure.”

“Talk,” said Dotty; “say ‘thank you,’ Pusheen!  No, indeed, you needn’t do it; I’s just in fun.  God didn’t give you any teef to talk with, Pussy; so you can’t talk.”

“Now, Dotty, this next letter is D.”

“O, Prudy, I wish you’d hush!  I’ve got the earache.”

“Ah, well!” thought the gentle teacher, with a sigh; “I’ll try again, some other day.  I’ll not give it up.  Grandma says, ’Time and patience make the mulberry leaf into satin.’  I don’t know what that means, only it’s something about perseverance.”

CHAPTER VII.

BOTH SIDES OF A STORY.

The little school was not resumed for some time.  Not that Prudy had forgotten it, by any means; but the next Saturday she had visitors, and the following Wednesday an exciting event occurred.  It concerned Susy’s pony.  Percy Eastman said he was called Wings “because he hadn’t any feet.”  Susy was vexed at this remark, and Prudy, taking her part, said, “Percy is such a pert boy;” adding next moment, “What is pert?”

But Percy only meant that the pony sadly needed some new shoes; and this was very true.

Now it happened that Mr. Parlin, being too busy to go himself, sent Eddy Johnson and Charley Piper with Wings to the blacksmith’s shop.  It seemed to Susy that the boys were gone a long while, for it was Wednesday afternoon, and she was impatient for a ride.  She sat down to practise a little, but her mind was out of doors, and the unwilling piano seemed crying out to be let alone.

“I can’t play,” said Susy, decidedly; “and that’s the truth.”

At that moment a sweet little voice was heard, singing, “John’s Brown buddy;” and Dotty Dimple’s head and shoulders were thrust into the room.

“I’ve broked it,” said she; “I’ve broked it all to smash.”

“Broke what, for pity’s sakes?”

“Your teapot,” replied Dotty, in a very cheerful voice.

“O, I never did, in all my life, see such a child,” wailed Susy.  “What made you go and meddle with my dear little gold-edged tea-set?”