PRIDE AND ORANGES.
While Mrs. Fixfax was making her room ready for the little housekeepers,
Aunt Madge went to her own chamber, and locked up her best dresses, and
most valuable possessions. The children watched her with some curiosity.
"Are you afraid of _burgalers_, auntie?" asked Dotty. "Because, if you
are, we shan't dare stay here."
"No, Dotty. I only thought, if you should play keep house, it might be
rather amusing to come in here, and dress up in some of my old finery.
You are welcome to whatever you can find, for I have locked up all that
is worth much."
"O, you darling auntie, won't that be splendid? Now we shan't feel half
so sorry about your going away."
"Sorry!" said Mrs. Allen, with a mischievous smile. "You are so
delighted you don't know what to do."
"There, auntie, that isn't fair," laughed Prudy, "when we've been trying
our best to cry. But somehow, how can we, when Uncle Augustus isn't very
sick, and you're coming right back? But what made me laugh just now, was
looking at that ruffled pillow-case, and thinking what a splendid cap it
would make for an old lady, tied down with black ribbon!"
"A pretty uproar we shall find when we get back, Miss Prudy; but I am
prepared for that. Only promise one thing--keep that baby in the house.
Flyaway, darling, will you remember not to go out of doors?"
"Yes, um, I'll 'member," replied Fly, winking her eyes solemnly. She had
expected, till the last minute, to go with her auntie.
"There is one thing I regret. If Mrs. Brooks and Maria come, they will
be very much disappointed. Tell them I'll try to attend to them the day
but one after Christmas. And now, good by, children. You know you're as
dear to me as the apple of my eye. Do take good care of yourselves, and
be good."
"The apple of your eye appears to be split in four quarters, auntie,"
remarked Horace; and on the strength of that joke, Mrs. Allen started on
her journey to Trenton.
"Now I suppose I'm to be the head of the family," said Prudy, with a
majestic air.
"We are the two heads, if you please, _mum_," said Horace, striking an
attitude.
"What am I, then?" asked Dotty.
"You? The foot. You must run and tend."
"H'm!"
"What am I?" asked Fly.
"Why, the little finger, pet. All you have to do is to curl up in one
corner."
"H'm!" responded Fly, looking at Dotty's solemn face, and trying to draw
her own down to exactly the same length.
"Pretty well, I should think," said Dotty, as soon as her injured
feelings would allow her to speak. "What have I done to be put down to
the bottom of the foot?"
"But you know, little sister, one woman has to manage a house; and I am
older than you."
"But you can't make a bit better gingerbread, Prudy Parlin! If I've got
to be _your_ hired girl, I won't play."
"So I wouldn't," said Horace. "I'd show 'em what I thought of such
actions."
Upon this there was a little whirlwind, which spun Dotty out of the room
before you could count two.
"They stand very high in their own self-esteem. He's a hero, she a
_hero-ess_! They think I like to be laughed at. She said it only took
one woman to manage a house; but she never made any fuss when _Horace_
spoke up, and wanted to help. It's _me_ that can't manage--just because
it's me. Who wants Horace for the head of the family? He don't know
more'n the head of a pin! When'd ever _he_ make ginger-bread?"
By this time Dotty had reached her own room in a tumult of rage.
"Prudy wouldn't 'low three heads to it, I s'pose? O, no; for then I
could be one! If I was a great boy, with a silver watch, that wasn't her
own sister, she'd let me! Yes, if I had five heads, she wouldn't have
said a word."
Dotty paced the floor restlessly, with her hands behind her.
"I shan't go back. Let 'em keep their old house. I can keep house my own
self up in this room--wish I'd brought Fly--she's too good for 'em. Wish
I hadn't come to New York to be imposed upon."
As Dotty was crossing and recrossing the room, her eye fell on one of
the illuminated cards on the wall, printed in red and gold, and wreathed
with delicate lilies of the valley--"God resisteth the proud, but giveth
grace to the humble."
The angry child stopped short.
"Who put that there? What did auntie mean? She meant _me_. Everybody
means me. I wouldn't have thought that of auntie."
Dotty turned away; but the words followed her across the room like the
eyes of a portrait.
"'God resisteth the proud.' Well, who said I was proud? People are so
queer! Always think it's me wants the best things. 'Giveth grace to the
humble.' There, I s'pose that means Prudy. She's just as humble! Never
wants to take the best parts when we play. O, no; Prudy's humble?
Prudy's a _hero-ess_!'"
But scold as she might, those burning red words were looking right down
into Dotty's soul. Though she shut her eyes, there they were still.
"'God resisteth the proud.' Am I proud?--Yes. Does God _resisteth_
me?--Yes, for the Bible can't lie. What _is_ resisteth? Something that
makes you feel bad, prob'ly. That's why I can't be happy. I won't be
proud another minute."
Dotty winked fast, set her teeth together, pinched her neck, and
swallowed.
"There, it's going down my throat like a pill,--its gone! Am I proud any
more? No--_for_ I really don't s'pose I can make gingerbread quite so
well as Prudy! I never made any but once, and then Norah took it out of
the oven and put in the ginger and molasses. No, I'm not proud. I don't
want to keep house. I shouldn't know how. It would be very much better
to go back and behave, for I can't stay here without being lonesome."
Dotty looked again at the red and gold text. "How different it seems to
me now I'm humble! People needn't be proud if they'd swallow it down
like a pill."
Dotty's reasoning was rather mixed; still it is worthy of notice, that
she was doing a remarkable thing for her, as she slowly walked back to
her auntie's room.
But all this while Prudy, too, had been suffering. She could never bear
to have her young sister angry, and, if it had not been for Horace,
would have gone to her with all sorts of promises--anything for peace.
"She's an outrageous little tyrant, Prue. She ought to have a sound
whipping."
"O, Horace," said Prudy, quite shocked; "she can't help her temper; she
has to be humored."
"Poh! that's just what ails her! Been humored to death."
"But, Horace, can't we change our play, somehow? It never will do for
me to try to order her about."
"Nonsense, Prue! But if you're going to be so fussy, you might keep
boarding-house, and have her for lady boarder."
Prudy's brow cleared.
"Just what'll suit her, Horace! A lady boarder is so fashionable,--like
the one they had at Mrs. Penny's,--always washing out laces. Now I'll go
tell Dotty."
Just then Miss Dimple appeared at the door with an uncertain smile.
"I--I--thought--"
"O, how kind of you to come back to us, my Lady Magnifico!" cried
Horace, bowing himself double. "Your landlady was afraid you objected to
your boarding-place."
"You see," said Prudy, eagerly, "we are making believe I keep boarders.
I've 'seen better days,' or something of that kind, as they say in
story-books--O, seems to me my husband died."
"Yes; I saw his death in the papers," said Dotty, briskly; "so you don't
want me for your hired girl--do you?"
Then she thought, "How glad I am I came back! It's always better to be
humble!" and added aloud, with a fine-lady drawl,--
"No, mim; it's not the style I've been subject to. I was _necessiated_
to leave you, mim, because I can't eat out of anything but gold
teaspoons."
"That sounds so like Mrs. Pitkin Smith!" said Prudy, laughing. "She used
to board at Mrs. Penny's, Horace. Come, let's go and dress in our
costumes. I'll be Mother Hubbard; and Horace, you go into uncle's
dressing-room and see what you can find."
[Illustration: Little Miss Fly.]