“Now,” said Aunt Prudence, “s’pose you come into my room while I show you something worth looking at.”
Into the house, slowly following Aunt Prudence, went Prue and Randy, filled with mingled curiosity and dread of the thing which they were soon to see.
Aunt Prudence bent over her little hair-covered trunk, lifting aside this parcel and that until, oh, could it be true, a cunning little wooden cradle, painted bright red, made Prue utter a shrill cry of delight.
“Oh! oh! is it for me?” cried Prue. “Oh, I am so sorry I was naughty!”
Aunt Prudence put the cradle into Prue’s chubby hands, who at once held it up for Randy to admire.
“It’s a beauty,” said Randy. “Oh, Prue, you’d ought to be good now.”
“I will,” said Prue; then, turning to Aunt Prudence, she said, “I guess I almost love you now, and I won’t ever plague you.”
“Well, I guess my basket ain’t hurt much this time; but don’t borry it again, child. I guess the cradle will ’bout fit Tabby.”
“Oh, I do b’lieve it will! I’ll go and ‘medjure’ her in it,” said Prue, and away she scampered in search of her kitty.
Left alone with her aunt, Randy hesitated a moment, then venturing a step nearer, she said, “I think you were very good to give the pretty cradle to Prue just when she’d been so naughty; but,” added Randy, as usual anxious to shield her little sister, “she isn’t always naughty, and now I’m ’most sure she’ll try to please you.” She looked up wistfully, hoping for a kindly word for Prue whom she loved so dearly.