Sophie May - Dotty Dimple Out West

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"I did think once he was my brother. And now I'm glad I didn't have a
real brother; for if he _had_ been, p'rhaps he'd have burned up our
house with a cracker."

"So you think little girls are nicer than little boys?"

"O, yes, sir; don't you?"

Dotty spoke as if there could be no doubt about it.

"I like good little girls," said Major Lazelle, "such as can ride a
whole day in the cars without growing cross."

This compliment gratified Dotty. She felt that she deserved it, for she
had kept her temper admirably ever since she left home.

"I am sure you will grow up, one of these days, to be a very good
woman," continued Major Lazelle, looking with an admiring smile at the
graceful little girl seated on his knee. "You tell me you have never
been at school. I hope you do not mean to frolic all your life? What
were little girls made for, do you think?"

Dotty reflected a moment.

"What are little girls made for, sir? Why, they are made to play,
'cause they can't play when they grow to be ladies."

The major laughed.

"Pretty well said! You're rather too shrewd for such an 'old mustache'
as I. So little girls are made to play? Then suppose we two have a game.
Let us play chip-chop."

Dotty was becoming sleepy, but aroused herself, and patted her little
soft hands as hard as she could, tossing them hither and thither,
sometimes hitting her companion's thumb, sometimes his little finger.
Major Lazelle laughed, and then she laughed too; for when he tried to
strike her hands, he said it was like aiming at a pair of rose-leaves
fluttering in the air.

The chip-chop was a complete failure; but it had set them both in great
glee. If truth be told, they became excessively rude.

"Now, sir," said Dotty, as they ran across the room, playing a game of
romps, "if you do catch me again, I'll--O, dear, I don't know what I'll
do!"

Mr. Parlin looked up from his letter a little annoyed, for the floor was
shaking so that he could scarcely write.

"Do not be rude, my daughter," said he, though he knew very well the
major was really the one to be chided.

But his warning came a minute too late. Major Lazelle had caught Dotty,
and she had thrown up both hands to clutch at his hair. She meant to
give it one desperate pulling; she did not care if she hurt him a
little; she even hoped he might cry out and beg her to stop.

But the oddest thing happened. If she had gone to bed at the usual time,
and fallen asleep, then this would have been her dream. But no, she
_supposed_ she was awake; and what now?

As she seizes two locks of Major Lazelle's hair, one in each hand, and
pulled them both as if she meant to draw them out by the roots, out they
came! Yes, entirely out! And more than that, all the rest of the man's
hair came too! His head was left as smooth as an apple.

_You_ see at once how it was. He wore a wig, and just for play had slyly
unfastened it, and allowed Miss Dotty to pull it off.

The perfect despair on her little face amused him vastly; but he did not
smile; he looked very severe.

"See what you have done!" said he, rubbing his bald head as if it were
just ready to bleed. "See what you have done to me, you cruel girl!"

Major Lazelle's entire head of hair lay at her feet as brown and wavy
as ever it was. Dotty looked at it with horror. The idea of scalping a
man!

For a whole minute she lost the power of speech. Then she gasped out,--

"O, dear! dear! dear! I didn't know your hair was so tender!"

The major had been crowding his handkerchief into his mouth; but at this
he could no longer restrain himself, nor could Mr. Parlin help joining
in the laugh.

[Illustration: THE MAJOR'S JOKE. Page 78.]

The little girl was more bewildered than ever. She put her hand to her
own head, to make sure it was safe, for it felt as airy as a dandelion
top.

Then Major Lazelle explained to her in a few words what a wig is, and
how it is fastened to the head. Dotty understood it all in a moment, but
was too much chagrined to make any reply.

"I am several years younger than your papa, my dear; so you think it
strange to see me bald; but I have had two dreadful fevers, and they
have run away with every bit of my hair."

Dotty would not even look up to see Major Lazelle replace his wig. Her
dignity had been wounded.

"Come, sit on my knee, Pussy, and let me tell you some more about it."

"No, I thank you, sir," replied she, walking the floor with the air of
an injured princess. "No, I thank you, sir."

"How, now, little one? You don't mean to be angry with me for a little
joke?"

"No, I thank you."

And that was all Dotty would say. She was wise enough to know she was
too angry to speak.

"Ah, ha! temper, I see!" thought Major Lazelle; "I did not suspect it
from that quarter."

If the young gentleman had only known how hard the little girl was
struggling just then to control herself, he would have liked her better
than ever.

Her father chided her next morning for taking a joke so seriously. Dotty
replied with a deep sigh,--

"Papa, that major 'sposes I'm only five years old! That's what Dollyphus
s'posed! I don't like it, papa, when I can travel so well; and how'd _I_
know what a wig was, well; you and mamma never had any?"

But Dotty smiled as benevolently as she could when she met the major
again. He was a little afraid of her, however. He did not enjoy playing
with her as he had enjoyed it before. He now felt obliged to be on his
guard, lest she should take offence.

The rest of her journey--though Dotty did not know it--was not quite so
delightful as it might have been if she had only laughed with good humor
when the lively major let her pull his hair out by the roots.

But the cars went "singing through the forest, and rattling over
ridges," till it was time to part from the pleasant man with a wig. Then
they went on, "shooting under arches, rambling over bridges," till Dotty
and her papa had come to their journey's end. We will say it was the
town of Quinn.

CHAPTER VI.

NEW FACES.

The Cliffords lived a little way out of town. Mr. Parlin took a
carriage at the depot, and he and Dotty had a very pleasant drive to
"Aunt 'Ria's."

The little girl was rather travel-stained. Her gloves were somewhat
ragged at the tips, from her habit of twitching them so much; and they
were also badly soiled with fruit and candy. Her hair was as smooth as
hands could make it; but alas for the "style" hat which had left
Portland in triumph! It had reached Indiana in disgrace. Its tipsy
appearance was due to getting stepped on, and being caught in showers.
Dotty's neat travelling dress was defaced by six large grease spots.
Where they had come from Dotty could not conjecture, unless "that sick
lady with a bottle had spilled some of her cod-oil on it out of a
spoon."

The child had intended to astonish her relatives by her tidy array; but,
after all her pains, she had arrived out West in a very sorry plight.

"Now, which side must I look for the house, papa?"

"At your right hand, my dear. The first thing you will see is the
conservatory, and then a stone house."

"My right hand," thought Dotty; "that's east; but which is my right
hand?"

She always knew after she had thought a moment. It was the one which did
not have the "shapest thumb;" that is, the _misshapen_ one she had
pounded once by mistake, instead of an oilnut.

"O, yes, papa! See the flowers! the flowers! And only to think they
don't know who's coming! P'rhaps they're drinking tea, or gone visiting,
or something."

The Cliffords were not at tea. Grace and Cassy were reading "Our Boys
and Girls" in the summer-house, with their heads close together; Horace
was in the woods fishing; Mr. Clifford at his office; his wife in her
chamber, ruffling a pink cambric frock for wee Katie, rocking as she
sewed.

As for Katie, she was marching about the grounds under an old umbrella.
It was only the skeleton of an umbrella--dry bones, wires, and a crooked
handle. Through the open sides the little one was plainly to be seen;
and Mr. Parlin thought she looked like that flower we have in our
gardens, which peeps out from a host of little tendrils, and is called
the "lady in the bower."

Hearing a carriage coming, the "lady in the bower" rushed to the gate,
flourishing the black bones of the umbrella directly in the horse's
face.

"Dotty has camed! She has camed!" shouted the little creature, dropping
the umbrella, falling over it, springing up again, and running with
flying feet to spread the news.

Nobody believed Dotty had "camed;" it seemed an improbable story; but
Grace and Cassy had heard the wheels, and they ran through the avenue
into the house to make sure it was nobody but one of the neighbors.

"Why, indeed, and indeed, it _is_ Dotty; and if here isn't Uncle Edward
too!" cried Grace, tossing back her curls, and dancing down the front
steps. "Ma, ma, here is Uncle Edward Parlin!"

"I sawed um first! I sawed um first!" screamed little Flyaway, thrusting
the point of the umbrella between Dotty's feet, and throwing her over.

"Can I believe my eyes!" said Mrs. Clifford's voice from the head of the
stairs; and down she rushed, with open arms, to greet her guests.

Then there was so much kissing, and so much talking, that nobody exactly
knew what anybody else said; and Katie added to the confusion by
fluttering in and out, and every now and then breaking into a musical
laugh, which the mocking-bird, not to be outdone, caught up and echoed.
It was a merry, merry meeting.

"You dee papa bringed you--didn't him, Dotty?" said Katie, flying at her
cousin with the feather duster, as soon as Grace had taken away the
umbrella, and pointing her remarks with the end of the handle.

"You's Uncle Eddard's baby--that's what is it."

"O, you darling Flyaway!" said Dotty, "if you _wouldn't_ stick that
handle right _into_ my eyes!"

"I's going to give you sumpin!" returned Katie, putting her hand in her
pocket, and producing a very soft orange, which had been used for a
football. "It's a ollinge. _You_ can eat um, 'cause I gived um to you."

"Thank you, O, thank you. Flyaway: how glad I am to see you! You look
just the same, and no different."

"O, no, I'm is growin' homely," replied the baby, cheerfully, "velly
homely; Hollis said so."

By the time Dotty's crushed hat was off, and she had made herself ready
for tea, trying to hide three of the six grease-spots with her hands,
Horace appeared with a little birch switch across his shoulder, strung
with fish. The fish were few and small; but Horace was just as tired, he
said, as if he had caught a whale. He did not say he was glad to see his
young cousin; but joy shone all over his face.

"We'll have times--won't we, little Topknot?" said he, taking Katie up
between his fingers, as if she had been a pinch of snuff.

"Is you _found_ of ollinges, Dotty?" asked Flyaway, with an anxious
glance at the yellow fruit in Dotty's hand, still untasted.

After tea the orange lay on the lounge.

"I's goin' to give you a ollinge," said Katie, presenting it again, as
if it were a new one. But after she had given it away three times, she
thought her duty was done.

"If you please um," said she, coaxingly, "I dess _I'll_ eat a slice o'
that ollinge."

So she had the whole.

"Dotty, have you seen Phebe?" asked Horace.

"No; where does she live?"

"O, out in the kitchen. Prudy saw her when she was here, ever so long
ago. She hasn't faded any since."

"O, now I remember, she's a niggro, as black as a _sip_."

"Yes; come out and see her. She's famous for making candy. She learned
that of Barby."

"Who is Barby?"

"The Dutch girl we had before Katinka came."

Dotty went into the kitchen with Horace to watch the candy-making. This
was a favorite method with him of entertaining visitors.

[Illustration: MAKING MOLASSES CANDY.--Page 92.]

Phebe Dolan was a young colored girl, who had a very desirable home at
Mrs. Clifford's, but who always persisted in going about the house in a
dejected manner, as if some one had treated her unkindly. For all that,
she was very happy; and under her solemn face was a deal of quiet fun.

Katinka Dinkelspiel was a good-natured German girl, with a face as round
as a full moon, and eyes as expressive as two blots of blue paint. She
wore her fair hair rolled in front on each side into a puff like a
capital O. Dotty looked at her in surprise. She was very unlike Norah,
who wore bright ribbons on her head. And Katinka talked broken English,
stirring up her words in such a way that the sentences were like
Chinese puzzles; they needed to be taken apart and put together
differently.

"Please to make the door too," she said to Horace; and it was half a
minute before Dotty understood that she was asking him to shut it.

"This is my cousin Dotty Dimple, girls; the handsomest of the family;
but not the best one--are you, though?" at the same time giving Miss
Dimple a chair.

"How d'ye, miss?" said Phebe, mournfully.

Katinka said nothing, but patted the letter O on the right side of her
head.

"O, Phib, my mother says if you are not too tired, you may make some
candy; she said so, candidly."

Horace was just old enough to delight in puns.

Now, this was a pleasant message to Phebe; she would have been glad to
keep her fingers in molasses half the time. Still it seemed to Dotty, as
she saw the rolling of the black eyes, that Phebe was quite discouraged.

"I s'pose she doesn't like candy," thought she; "I heard of a girl once
that didn't."

Rolling her sad eyes again and again, Phebe went to draw the molasses,
and soon had it boiling on the stove.

"There," said Horace, rubbing his hands, "I told Dotty if anybody knew
how to make candy 'twas Phebe Dolan. Give us the nut-cracker, and I'll
have the pecans ready in no time."

This time Phebe's eyes twinkled. As soon as the molasses would pour from
the spoon in just the right way, with little films like spiders' webs
floating from it, then Phebe said it was done, and Horace called Grace
and Cassy. Phebe stirred in some soda with an air of solemnity, then
poured half the contents of the kettle into a buttered platter, and the
other half into a second platter lined with pecan-meats. Then she took
the whole out of doors to cool.

"I'll tell you what I'm thinking about," said Dotty, as the girl left
the room;--"what has she got on her head?"

"Why, hair, to be sure," replied Grace.

"Wool, I should call it," corrected Horace.

"Because I didn't know," faltered Dotty,--"I didn't know but 'twas a
wig."

"What made you think 'twas a wig, Dotty?"

"O, there was a man wore one in the cars; it looked just like anybody's
hair, only he tied it on with a button. He knew you and Horace."

"Me and Horace? Who could it have been?"

"He's the major; his name is Lazelle."

"O, I remember him," said Grace and Horace together. "Does he wear a
wig? He isn't old at all."

"He _calls_ himself 'an old mustache,'" returned Dotty, "for he said so
to me. He wears one of those _hair-lips_, and a wig."

"And he's as blind as a post?"

"O, no, he can see things now. I liked him, for he gave me all the
apples and peaches I could eat."

"I reckon it did him good to go to the war," exclaimed Horace, "for I
remember, when I was a little fellow, how he boxed my ears!"

"He has suffered a great deal since then," said the gentle Cassy,
thoughtfully. "You know people generally grow better by suffering."

"Dotty dear, you can't keep your eyes open," said Grace, after the
candy had been pulled. "I don't believe it will make _you_ any better to
suffer. I'm going to put you to bed."

"And here I am," thought Dotty, as she laid her tired head on the
pillow, "out West, under a sketo bar. Got here safe. I ought to have
thanked God a little harder in my prayer."

CHAPTER VII.

WAKING UP OUT WEST.

Dotty was wakened next morning by a variety of sounds. The
mocking-bird, the canary, the hens, and Horace's guinea pig were astir,
and wished their little world to be aware of it. Flyaway was dressed and
running about, making herself generally useful.

Before the tired young traveller knew where she was, a little hand was
busy at the door knob, and a baby voice called out,--

"Dottee, Dottee, is you waked up?"

"O, now I know where I am! This is Aunt 'Ria's house, and that little
snip of a Flyaway is trying to get in. O, dear, dear, how far off I am!
Prudy Parlin, I wonder if you're thinking about me?"

"Dottee! Dottee!" called the small voice again.

"O, I s'pose that baby'll stand at the door all day."

But just then the knob turned, and in rushed Flyaway out of breath.

"Good-morning, Miss Topknot," said Dotty, addressing her by one of the
dove-names Horace was so fond of using.

"O, I's pitty well," replied Flyaway, dancing across the room. "I didn't
sleep any till las' night. I d'eamed awtul d'eams; so I kep' awake, and
wouldn't go to sleep."

And into bed climbed the little one, laying her head, with its tangled
floss, right across Dotty's face.

"Dear me!" sighed Dotty, rubbing the floss out of her eyes. "Such hair!
I should think _you_ wore a wig! I'm sleepy; can't you let me be?"

"You mus' wake up, Dottee! _I_ love to wake up; I can do it velly easy."

Dotty, losing her patience, moved forward, pushing Katie towards the
edge of the bed.

"O, ho! what a little bedstick! I'll yole out!"

"I wish you would, Flyaway Clifford!"

No sooner said than done. Off rolled Flyaway, but alighted on her feet.

"O, my shole," cried she, scrambling in again; "I fell down backboards.
O, ho!"

Such good nature was not to be resisted. Sleepy Dotty waked up and smiled
in spite of herself; and next minute her persecutor was skipping down
stairs.

"Glad she's gone. Now I'll put on my pretty morning dress; Aunt 'Ria
hung it up in the closet. I'm going to be a little lady all the time I'm
out West, and not jump off of things and tear my clothes."

Then Dotty's mind strayed to a very different subject.

"It is so queer God is in this country just the same as He is in the
State of Maine! I said my prayers to Him before I started, and there He
was and heard; and now He's here and hears too; I don't see how. You
can't think without He sees your thoughts."

Dotty, brushing her hair, looked in the glass so intently that she did
not observe her Aunt Maria, who had quietly entered the room. Mrs.
Clifford was a wise woman, but she could not look into her niece's
heart. She thought Dotty was admiring her own beauty in the mirror,
whereas the child was not thinking of it at all.

What Mr. Beecher once said of little folks is very true:--

"Ah, well, there is a world of things in children's minds that grown-up
people do not understand, though they too once were young."

Mrs. Clifford went up to Dotty and kissed her. Then the little girl was
startled from her musings, and passing down stairs with her hand in Mrs.
Clifford's, thought she should be perfectly happy if dear Prudy were
only on the other side of her.

Everything she saw that was new or strange she had to stop and admire,
thinking it was an article that could only belong out West.

"O, auntie, what is this queer little thing with doors?"

"Grace's cabinet, dear."

"Her _cabijen_," exclaimed Flyaway, darting in from the next room.

"Good morning, Dotty Dimple," said Horace: "did my Guinea pig wake you?
I lost him out. What a noise he made! I wish he was in Guinea, where he
came from."

Dotty had never seen a Guinea pig. It was another curiosity, which
promised to be more remarkable than Phebe or Katinka. She began to think
coming West was like having one long play-day. Even the dining-room was
a novelty, with the swinging fan suspended over the table to keep off
flies.

"I have been wondering," said Mrs. Clifford, as she urned the coffee,
"how we shall amuse our little Dotty while she is here."

"Fishing," suggested Horace.

"Nutting," said Grace.

"_Prudy_ went to a _wedding_ when she was in Indiana," remarked Dotty,
in a low voice.

"We will try to get up a wedding then," said Horace; "but they are a
little out of fashion now."

"We have been thinking," observed Mrs. Clifford, "of a nutting excursion
for to-day. How would you like it, Edward?"

"Very much," replied Mr. Parlin. "I can spend but one day with you, and
I would as lief spend it nutting as in any other way."

"Only one day, Uncle Edward!" cried Grace and Horace.

"Only one day, papa!" stammered Dotty, feeling like a little kitten who
_did_ have her paw on a mouse, but sees the mouse disappear down a hole.

"O, I shall leave you, my daughter. You will stay here a week or two,
and meet me in Indianapolis."

Dotty was able to eat once more.

"Father, what are we to do for horses to go nutting with?" spoke up
Horace. "Robin raked this part of town yesterday with a fine-tooth
comb, and couldn't find anything but an old clothes' horse, and that was
past travelling."

"My son!"

Mr. Clifford's face said very plainly,--

"Not so flippant, my child!"

But the only remark he made was to the effect that there were doubtless
horses to be found in the city at the stables.

"What about the infant, mamma?" said Grace. "Is she to be one of the
party?"

When Katie was present she was sometimes mysteriously mentioned as "the
infant." It was quite an undertaking to allow her to go; but Mrs.
Clifford had yielded the point an hour or two before, out of regard to
Horace's feelings. She knew the nutting party would be spoiled for him
if his beloved little Topknot were left out.

"Is I goin'?" asked she, when she heard the joyful news. "Yes, I'm _are_
goin' to get some horse."

"No, some pecans, you little Brown-brimmer."

Katie had a dim suspicion that she owed this pleasure to her brother's
influence.

"Hollis," said she, eagerly,--"Hollis, you may have the red part o' my
apple."

This sounded like the very fulness of generosity, but was a hollow
mockery; for by the "red part" she only meant the skin.

Mr. Clifford had one horse, and while Robin Sherwood was going to the
city for another, Mrs. Clifford made ready the lunch.

Happy Dotty walked about, twirling a lock of her front hair, and watched
Katinka cleaning the already nice paint, spilling here and there "little
drops of water, little grains of sand." She also observed the solemn yet
dextrous manner in which Phebe washed the breakfast dishes, and looked
on with peculiar interest as Aunt Maria filled the basket.

First there were custards to be baked in little cups and freckled with
nutmeg, to please Uncle Edward. Then there was a quantity of eggs to be
boiled hard. As Mrs. Clifford dropped these one by one into a kettle of
water, Katie ran to the back door, and cried out to the noisy hens,--

"Stop cacklerin', chickie; we've got 'em."

Then, fearing she had not made herself understood, she added,--

"We've found your _aigs_, chickie; they was ror, but we's goin' to bake
'em."

Dotty was impressed with the beauty of the picnic basket and the
delicacy of the food. Everything she saw was rose-colored to-day.

"O, Aunt 'Ria, I should think you'd like to live out West! Such splendid
fruit cake!"

"I saw Fibby and my mamma make that," said Flyaway, "out o' cindamon and
little clovers."

"Clovers in cake?"

"Not red and white clovers; them little bitter kinds you know," added
the child, with a wry face.

There were four for each carriage. Dotty rode with her father, Mrs.
Clifford, and Katie. Little Flyaway looked at the hired phaeton with
contempt.

"It hasn't any cap on, like my papa's," said she; but she was prevailed
upon to ride in it because her mamma did.

Horace went with his father and the "cup and saucer," as he called Grace
and Cassy. He was in a state of irritation because his idolized Topknot
was in the other carriage.

"You can't separate that cup and saucer," growled he to himself.
"They'll sit and talk privacy, I suppose; and I might have had
Brown-brimmer if it hadn't been for Cassy."

CHAPTER VIII.

GOING NUTTING.

As they drove along "the plank road," farther and farther away
from the city, Dotty saw more clearly than ever the wide difference
between Indiana and Maine.

"Why, papa," said she, "did you ever breathe such a dust? It seems like
snuff."

"It makes us almost as invisible as the 'tarn cap' we read of in German
fairy tales," said Mrs. Clifford, tucking her brown veil under her chin.

She and Mr. Parlin both encouraged Dotty to talk; for they liked to hear
her exclamations of wonder at things which to them seemed common-place
enough.

"What did you call this road, Aunt 'Ria? Didn't you say it was made of
boards? I don't see any boards."

"The planks were put down so long ago, Dotty, that they are overlaid
with earth."

"But what did they put them down for?"

"You musser ask so many kestions, Dotty," said Flyaway, severely; "you
say 'what' too many times."

"The planks were laid down, Dotty, on account of the depth of the mud."

"Mud, Aunt 'Ria?"

"Yes, dear, dusty as it is now, at some seasons of the year the roads
are so muddy that you might lose off your overshoes if it were not for
the large beams which bridge over the crossings."

"That reminds me," said Mr. Parlin, "of the man who was seen sinking in
the mud, and, when some one offered to help him out, he replied,
cheerfully, 'O, I shall get through; I have a horse under me.'"

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