Now you see why it is that God had put it into Zip’s loving heart to “want to come with his little sister.”

Abner, who arrived a few minutes later, in order to cut some young birches for his fence, said,—­

“Wasn’t it lucky, that that dog happened to be right on the spot?  And lucky, too, that I happened along in the nick of time, to carry the poor little girl home in my arms?”

But the truth is, in this world which our Heavenly Father watches over, nothing ever comes by chance, and events do not happen.

Abby shed many bitter tears, but they were not so much tears of sorrow for her sin, as of shame for being found out.  Such weeping does no good.  Indeed I am afraid it only hardened Abby’s heart.

But the day ended gloriously for Dotty.  She was handed about to be kissed by everybody, and was, after all, allowed to sit up till nine o’clock, and actually ate a “bubbled cream,” sitting as close as she could beside Colonel Allen’s elbow.

CHAPTER X.

DR. PRUDY.

The next day Dotty had a severe cold, and her mother, fearing the croup, did not allow her to go out of doors.  This was hard for the child.  She felt very restless, because she had to give up “housekeeping” with Prudy, a very fascinating game, which could only be played on the river-bank.  She looked out of the kitchen window, and saw some carpenters shingling the barn.

“O, hum!” she murmured, “I wish grandpa wouldn’t mend his barn!”

A white mist was creeping slowly over the river and the distant hills.

“There, now,” she sighed, “I wish the earth wouldn’t breave so hard!”

Then she went into the parlor, like a little gray cloud.

“O, dear; I don’t like this house, ’cause it’s got a top to it!  Wish I was somewhere else!”

“Poor child,” said Colonel Allen, who was seated on the sofa, looking out of the bay-window upon the garden; “do you love home better than this beautiful spot?”

“No,” replied the little one, shaking her head.  “I don’t love my home, ‘cause I live there; I don’t love nothin’.  O, hum, suz!”

Then Dotty wandered into the nursery, and stood all alone, leaning against the lounge.

“I shouldn’t think my mother’d let me be so cross,” mused she.

She did not cry, for she had learned very young that crying is of no use; and it may be, too, that she had only a small fountain of tears back of her eyes.  Prudy, entering the nursery in eager haste, for her “bean-bags,” was touched at sight of her sister’s sad face.

“There, now, I’ll put back my bean-bags, and try to make her happy,” said Prudy to herself.  “That will be following the Golden Rule; for it’s doing unto Dotty as I want Susy to do unto me, when I’m sick.”

She went quietly up to Dotty, who still stood leaning gloomily against the lounge.  The child turned around with a sudden smile.  It cheered her to see Prudy’s sweet face, which was always sunny with a halo of happy thoughts.