Then poor Bubbles flung herself on the floor and begged not to be sent to the orphan asylum.
"You ridiculous child," said Dimple's mamma. "Of course you ought to be careful, but it is not your fault any more than Dimple's. She should not have sent you for the hatchet. I am very sorry for my little Dimple; it is not so very serious, but she will not be able to walk for several days. Next time you want to play Indian, do without a hatchet. Put on your frock, Bubbles, and go into the kitchen, for I'm sure I heard Sylvy call you."
Bubbles went meekly out and Dimple was soon asleep on the sofa.
Bubbles' real name was Barbara. She was the child of a former servant who went away, leaving her, when she was about five years old, with Mrs. Dallas; as the mother never came back, and no one could tell of her whereabouts, Bubbles gradually became a fixture in Dimple's home.
Dimple, when she was just beginning to talk, tried hard to say Barbara, but got no nearer to it than Bubbles, and Bubbles the little darkey was always called.
Dimple herself was called so from the deep dimple in one cheek. Every one knew her by her pet name, and most persons forgot that her name ever was Eleanor.
She and Bubbles were devoted comrades. Bubbles would cheerfully have let Dimple walk over her and never forgot to call her Miss Dimple, thereby expressing her willingness to serve her.
Dimple was the dearest little girl in the world, but considering Bubbles her special property, made her do pretty much as she pleased, and her most dreadful threat was to send her to the orphan asylum.
She had once said, "Mamma, if you hadn't let Bubbles stay here, where would you have sent her?"
"To the orphan asylum, I suppose," her mamma answered; and Bubbles, hearing it, was ever after in mortal terror of the place, for Dimple gave her a graphic description of it, telling her she would never have anything to eat but mush and milk.