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Dotty's swollen heart gave a great bound, and then sank heavier than ever. "My little daughter Alice has run away." That was what he said. "Is she in your house, Mrs. Rosenberg?" "Yes," replied Mrs. Rosenberg, "I expect its likely she is; but she and my Mandoline's been abed and asleep two hours." "O, papa, I'm wide awake!" cried little Dotty, with an eager shriek, which pierced the rafters.
That was what Cupid did in the fairy story, and you are in fairy-land yourself, Mrs. Rosenberg; you are still half asleep. She looked at Mandoline's perfect little hand, lying outside the patchwork quilt. "It doesn't seem, now," murmured the mother, with a tear in her eye, "that I could ever whack them pretty fingers with a thimble.
My mamma wouldn't let me go to the table with such hair as this. Prudy'd say 'twas 'harum scarum. But I can't brush it with a tooth-comb, 'thout any glass so there!" Dotty's curly hair looked quite as respectable as Mandoline's. Mrs. Rosenberg was far too busy to attend to her children's heads. They might be rough on the outside, and full of mischief inside; but she could not stop to inquire.
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