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.
"Are you real sick, though, Dotty Dimple?"
"Yes, I are," replied Dotty, well pleased to be asked such a question.
"I got 'most drowned, you know. O, I wish you'd stayed out in the rain
the other day, and got cold; then you'd have been sick, too."
Prudy smiled, for she knew that her little sister really had no such
unkind wish at heart. She was only trying, with her limited stock of
words, to say that she longed to have a little sympathy. It was not
often that Dotty was willing to be pitied.
"See here, Prudy darling, don't you want a piece of my cough-candy? It's
good! You may bite clear down to there, where I've scratched with a
pin."
"No, thank you, dear, I don't care a bit for it."
Dotty's face beamed with joyous dimples. It was so pleasant to be
generous, and at the same time keep the candy! In her short life Dotty
Dimple had not quite learned that "the half is better than the whole."
"Now," said Prudy, after thinking a while, "suppose we play that you're
sick,--as you are, you know,--and I'm the doctor."
Dotty gave a little scream of delight.
"You may see my tongue," said she, running to the looking-glass; "it's
real rusty. Can't you scrape it with a knife, Brady?"
"You must say _doctor_, when you speak to me. Now, my dear patient, it's
best for you to lie on the lounge, and take medicine in the chest. Poor
young lady, we shall be so glad when you get your health all well!--Do
you want me to extricate a tooth? Have you any headache, miss?"
Prudy's voice was low and sympathetic. "Yes, Dr. Prudy," replied the
patient, with a stifled groan; "I've truly got the ache in my head; it
pricks through my hair." "I'll tell you the cause of that, my dear
patient; I suspect your pillow's made of pin-feathers. Let me feel your
pulse on the back of your hand--your wrist, I mean. Terrible," moaned
the young doctor, gazing mournfully at the ceiling; "it's stopped
beating. Can't expect your life now. O, no!"
"Now you must put your hands behind you, and walk across the room,"
suggested Dotty; "that's the way."
"If my memory preserves me right," continued the young doctor, pacing
the floor, "you've got the--ahem!--pluribus unum." Here Dr. Prudy ran
her fingers through her hair. "But it goes light this year--with care,
ma'am, you know. So I'll go and stir you up some pills in my marble
mortar."
"O, dear me, doctor; don't you now! Bring me some lemonade and nuts, for
I'm drefful sick; but don't bring me no pills nor molters!"
"Poh, only brown bread, Dotty! what do you suppose?"
Upon the whole, Miss Dimple, being petted to her heart's content, had
quite a comfortable day of it.
In the evening she asked,--
"Mightn't I eat supper, all alone, in the parlor? Once, when I had the
sores all wrinkled out on my face, on my chin and round my eyes, all
round, _then_ I ate in the parlor."
Prudy, with her grandmother's consent, carried in a pretty salver, on
which were a little Wedgewood teapot with hot water, a tiny sugar-bowl
and creamer, a plate, and cup and saucer, some slices of toast, and a
glass of jelly.
"Thank you a whole heart-full," said Dotty, springing off the sofa;
"that little waiter and so forth is real big enough for me."
Dotty thought "and so forth" meant "cups and saucers." She had heard
Norah tell Prudy, when she wished to set the table, that she might put
on "the knives and forks, and so forth," and Dotty had noticed that it
was always cups and saucers after the knives and forks.
"But, Dr. Prudy, there's one thing you've forgot," said the young
patient; "a little tea-bell, so I can tingle it, and call you in."
The bell was brought, and while the rest of the family ate in the
dining-room, Dotty took her "white tea" in the parlor, in queenly state.
Prudy had eaten half a thin slice of toast, when the long and sharp
ringing of the tea-bell summoned her into the parlor.
"And what would you like, Miss Dimple?" said the remarkably obliging
doctor, with a low bow.
"More jelly," replied the patient, holding up the empty glass, "and some
squince marmalade."
After obeying this request, Prudy went back to her supper, and had just
finished her slice of bread, when the bell struck again.
This time there was "that old spin-wheel in the chimney again,"--so the
patient said,--and a book in the what-not wrong side up, looking "as if
it would choke."
The book was set right; but the noise in the chimney was too much for
the doctor's skill, since neither she nor any one else knew its cause.
Next sounded a furious peal of the bell, and a series of loud screams
from the little sick girl. She had been dreadfully stung by a bee, which
had buzzed its way out from the fireboard. Strange to tell, there was a
swarm of bees in the chimney, instead of "a spin-wheel."
Abner at once mounted to the roof of the house, and peeped into the
chimney. A nice, cosy beehive it made, filled to the throat with waxen
cells.
Dotty bore her sufferings sweetly, being sustained by the promise of a
large box of honey, by and by.
"Bees have a 'sweet, sweet home,' I think," said Susy.
"So do ants when they get in the sugar-box," rejoined Prudy.
As night approached, Dotty showed symptoms of croup.
"I think," said her grandmother, "it will be the safest way to give her
some castor-oil and molasses; that is what her father used to take when
he was a little boy."
Dotty pouted. "Dirty, slippy castor-oil," she cried, shaking her
elbows--a thing she seldom did now. "I shan't let it go in my throat.
I'll bite my teeth togedder tight."
"Alice," said her grandmother, "is that the proper way to speak to me?"
The child's face cleared in a moment.
"I wasn't a-speakin' to you, grandma," said she, sweetly; "I was a
talkin' to the dust-pan."
"O, Dotty Parlin!" cried Prudy, much distressed. "Nobody ever talked to
the dust-pan, in all the days of their lives! I always thought you were
a good girl, Dotty, but now I am afraid you tell false fibs!"
Dotty clung about Prudy like a sweet pea, and peeped into her eyes with
a pleading look.
"Say, do you love me, Prudy? For I'm goin' to let the oil slip right
down my throat, just as my papa did when _he_ was a little boy."
After swallowing the oil and molasses, Dotty grew very affectionate, and
kissed everybody twice, all around. Then she said her prayers, and went
to bed.
"Mamma," said she, "now smoove me up under my chin, please." She loved
to have the sheet laid straight. "Do you s'pose God will take care o' me
to-night, mamma?"
"Certainly, my darling; you may be very sure He will. Your heavenly
Father never sleeps. He watches over you always."
"Now, truly, does he?" said the child, pressing her flushed cheek
against the pillow. "Does he see me in my chubby bed, when the moon's
all dark?
"O, my suz!" cried she, suddenly, raising her head; "God can take care
o' me most always, you know, but I'm drefful afraid something will catch
me while he's 'tending to _another_ man!"
Mrs. Parlin explained to her little daughter, as well as she could, the
omnipresence and infinite goodness of God; and while she was still
talking, in low, soothing tones, the little one fell asleep.
But about midnight there was a sudden alarm. Lights glanced here and
there over the house, and Susy and Prudy were wakened from a deep sleep
by the sound of voices. Dotty had a violent attack of croup.
"Put me out doors," gasped the poor little sufferer, when she could
speak at all. "I can't breave if the window's _ever_ so up. Get me
nearer to the moon. Then I can breave!"
"It's so dreadful!" sobbed Susy. "I feel real sure she's going to die
this time."
"O, no, I don't think she will," said Prudy, shaking the tears off her
eyelashes. "God took care of me when I had the lameness, and He'll take
care of her. He loves her as much as he loves me."
"Now just listen to me," returned Susy, pacing the floor of the green
chamber, in her night-dress, while Prudy sat on the edge of the bed.
"God loves us all; but that's no sign we can't die! Little children, no
older than Dotty, have their breath snatched right away, and are covered
up in the ground, with gravestones at their heads and feet. O, you
haven't the least idea, Prudy. You never think anything can happen!"
"Well, things don't happen very often, you know, Susy."
"There, Prudy Parlin, don't talk so! I feel just as if Dotty was going
to die this very night."
"O, I don't think she will, Susy. But she's God's little girl, and if He
wants her up in heaven He has a right to take her. He never'll take her,
though, unless it's best, now certainly."
"Sit still, Prudy, just as you are. The moon is shining into the window,
on your tears, and it seems as if I could almost see a rainbow in your
eyes!--There, it's gone now. What makes you talk so queer about God,
Prudy? as if you knew a great deal more than I do?"
"I don't know half as much as you do," replied Prudy; "but I used to lie
and think about the Saviour when I had the lameness.--Hark! Is that
Dotty laughing? Let's go in and see if she isn't 'most well."
The child was indeed better; but for the next three nights she suffered
from severe attacks of the croup. Her sisters had not known how they
loved her till she showed her frail side, and they saw how slender was
the thread which bound her to earth. When she was strong, and roguish,
and wilful, they forgot that she was only a tender flower after all, and
might be nipped from the stem any time.
When she was well again, Prudy said to her mother, in confidence, "It
didn't kill her, the croup didn't, but it might have killed her; and I'm
going to love her all the time as if she was really dead, and gone to
heaven."