Dotty Dimple at Her Grandmother's

by Sophie May

"Grandma, there are some things in this world I hate, and one is skeetos."

"They are vexatious little creatures, it is true."

There was a long pause.

"Grandma, are skeetos idiotic? You said people without brains were idiotic, and there isn't any place in a skeeto's head for brains."

"Dotty," said grandma, rising with a smile, "if you sent for me to ask me such foolish questions as these, I must really beg to be excused. I have a pudding to make for dinner."

"Grandma, O, grandma," cried Dotty, seizing her skirts, "I have something to say, now truly; something real sober. I—I—"

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Parlin, encouragingly.

"I—I—O, grandma, which do you think can knit the best, Prudy or I?"

"My dear Dotty," said the kind grandmother, stroking the child's hair, "don't be afraid to tell the whole story. I know you have a trouble at your heart. Do you think you were a naughty girl last night?"