"Is grandma busy, Aunt 'Ria?" said Dotty; "because I'd like to see her a moment."
The child had seized her knitting-work. Her face was flushed and eager. She thought she felt brave enough to open her heart to her grandmother; but when Mrs. Parlin entered the nursery, her face beaming with kindness, Dotty was not ready.
"O, grandma," stammered she, "are there any ducks hatched? Don't you think that hen is very slow and very lazy?"
Mrs. Parlin knew her little granddaughter had not called her out of the kitchen merely to ask about the poultry. She seated herself on the sofa, and drew Dotty's head into her lap.
"Please look at my knitting-work, grandma. Shall I seam that stitch or plain it?"
"You are doing very well," said Mrs. Parlin, looking at the work; "you seamed in the right place."
Dotty cast about in her mind for something more to say.
"Grandma, you know what fireflies are? Well, if you scratch 'em will they light a lamp? Susy says they have fosfos under their wings, like a match."
"No, Alice; with all the scratching in the world, they could not be made to light a lamp."
Dotty sighed.