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"Nothing but cold potatoes out of the cupboard," said Horace; "he keeps bachelor's hall. It's just as well the old fellow can't meet his wife, for she's made of green cheese, and he'd be likely to slice her up and eat her." A tear glittered on Prudy's eyelashes.
Stepping back to his former position, he waited while they could count twenty, lifted the second pistol high, brought it smartly down to the aim and fired again. The second candle went out, and a second bullet buried itself in Prudy's panel. So he served the six, one after another, without a miss. Twice he reloaded both pistols slowly, and while he did so not a word was spoken.
Or, if Prudy fancied it would console her to have a peep at her beautiful doll which "would be alive if it could speak," why, down stairs went auntie again to search out the spot where Susy had probably left it when "she took it to show to some children." The many, many times that kind young lady crept shivering down stairs to humor Prudy's whims!
The flames were soon smothered in a rug, and so Prudy's life was mercifully saved. It was sometime before any one understood what Dotty had been trying to do with a light. "I was just only a-puttin' a lamp to my feet," sobbed she. "I learned it to Sabber school." But the little one's rare tears were soon dried by a romp with Zip out of doors.
That ended the sport. "What shall I do to make myself happy?" said Dotty, musingly; for she wished to put off all thought of Prudy's money. "I should like to roll out some thimble-cookies, but Ruthie hasn't much patience this morning. I never dare do things when her lips are squeezed together so." But Flyaway dared do things.
Horace was the first to observe it, and he hastened to change the subject by saying his johnny-cake was so thin he could cut it with a pair of scissors. By that time Prudy's tears had slyly dropped upon her napkin, and she would have recovered her spirits if Aunt Louise had not remarked carelessly, "Seems to me our little poetess is rather melancholy this morning."
Dotty did not know how to turn back the chimney, and, though there was certainly blaze enough in the matches, it did not catch the wick. It leaped forward and caught the skirt of Prudy's dress. "You're burnin' afire! You're burnin' afire!" shouted Dotty, dancing around her sister. Prudy now felt the heat, and screamed too, bringing her mother and Norah to the spot at once.
"Poh! crying about that?" said Horace; "you're a nice little girl if you do talk too much, so don't you cry." Horace rather enjoyed seeing Grace and Susy in tears, but could never bear to have Prudy cry. "I'll tell you what it is," said Horace, when Prudy's eyes were clear again, "I don't think I make much playing hookey."
Prudy's chief consolation is in remembering, as she says, that "God knows we are afire." Prudy is always sure God will not let anything happen that is too dreadful. She has observed that her mother is calm; and whatever mamma says and does always approves itself to this second daughter. But Susy can only wring her hands in hopeless despair.
Prudy looked anxiously at her little sister to see if she was cross; but her face was as serene as the cloudless sky; she had waked up right, and meant to be good all day. When Dotty had one of her especially good days, Prudy's cup of happiness was full. She ran down stairs singing, "Thank God for pleasant weather! Shout it merrily, ye hills, And clap your hands together, Ye exulting little rills.
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