"I guess my mother is one of the first ladies in this town, Miss Dimple, and she's told me the story of Joseph's coat till I know it by heart."
"Well," said Dotty, looking very solemn, "it hasn't done you any good, Jennie Vance. Now, I learn verses every Sunday, and one is this: 'Lie not one to another.' What think of that?"
Jennie's black eyes snapped. "I heard that before ever you did."
"Lie not one to another," repeated Dotty, slowly. "Now, I'm one, Jennie, and you're another; and isn't it wicked when we tell the leastest speck of a fib?"
"Of course 'tis," was the prompt reply; "but I don't tell 'em."
"O, Jennie, who told your step-mother that Charlie Gray was tied up in a meal-bag? I'm afraid," said Dotty, laying her hand solemnly on little Katie's head as if it had been a pulpit-cushion, and she a minister preaching,—"I'm afraid, Jennie, you lie one to another."
"One to anudder," echoed Katie, breaking away and running after a toad. Jennie knitted her brows. "It doesn't look very well for such a small child as you are to preach to me, Dot Parlin!"
"But I always tell the white truth myself, Jennie, because God hears me. Do you think much about God?"
"No, I don't know as I do; nobody does, He's so far off," said Jennie, stooping to pluck an innocent flower.
"Why, Jennie, He isn't far off at all! He's everywhere, and here too. He holds this world, and all the people, right in His arms; right in His arms, just as if 'twas nothing but a baby."