Then Susy proceeded to dress Dotty’s doll in a very simple fashion, with two holes for short sleeves, and a skirt with a raw edge; but she looked kind and pleasant while she was at work, and Dotty was just as well pleased as if it had been an elegant costume she was preparing.  And it was really good enough for a poor deformed rag-baby, with a head shaped like a stove-pipe.

Susy was delighted to find how well a little patience served her in amusing “the children.”  Next, she went to give Dandy his morning bath.  Mrs. Parlin still thought it a dangerous practice, but had not seen Mrs. Mason, to question her about it, and Susy was too obstinate in her opinion to listen to her mother.

“I must do it,” said Susy; “it has been ever so long since Dandy was bathed, and I shouldn’t take any comfort riding, mamma, if I didn’t leave him clean.”

Susy plunged the trembling canary into his little bathing-bowl, in some haste.  He struggled as usual, and begged, with his weak, piping voice, to be spared such an infliction.  But Susy was resolute.

“It’ll do you good, Ducky Daddles; we mustn’t have any lazy, dirty birdies in this house.”

Ducky Daddies rolled up his little eyes, and gasped for breath.

“O, look, mother!” cried Susy, laughing; “how funny Dandy acts!  Do you suppose it’s to make me laugh?  O, is he fainting away?”

“Fainting away!  My dear child, he is dying!”

This was the sad truth.  Mrs. Parlin fanned him, hoping to call back the lingering breath.  But it was too late.  One or two more throbs, and his frightened little heart had ceased to beat; his frail life had gone out as suddenly as a spark of fire.

Susy was too much shocked to speak.  She stood holding the stiffening bird in her hands, and gazing at it.

Mrs. Parlin was very sorry for Susy, and had too much kindness of feeling to add to her distress by saying,—­

“You know how I warned you, Susy.”

Susy was already suffering for her obstinacy and disregard of her mother’s advice; and Mrs. Parlin believed she would lay the lesson to heart quite as well without more words.  It was a bitter lesson.  Susy loved dumb creatures dearly, and was just becoming very fond of Dandy.

In the midst of her trouble, and while her eyes were swollen with tears, her cousin Percy came with Wings and the sleigh to give her the promised ride.  Susy no longer cared for going out:  it seemed to her that her heart was almost broken.

“Well, cousin Indigo, what is the matter?” said Percy; “you look as if this world was a howling wilderness, and you wanted to howl too.  What, crying over that bird?  Poh!  I can buy you a screech-owl any time, that will make twice the noise he could in his best days.  Come, hurry, and put your things on!”

Susy buried her face in her apron.

“I’ll compose a dirge for him,” said Percy.