"Doesn't, either. Only sprinkles. And when it sprinkles, it's a sure sign it isn't going to rain."
"Who told you so?"
"Your grandmother Read. She's a Quaker, and she can't lie. Come, Dot Parlin; if you don't like poison, come out and play soldier."
"I don't want to play a single thing; so there, now, Johnny Eastman!"
"Then you're a cross old party, miss."
"I'm not a party at all. I'm only one girl."
"O, Dotty!" called Prudy from the cellar-way; "take care! take care!"
"So I am taking care," returned Dotty, stoutly. "For my own mother doesn't 'low me to go out doors and get rained on, and he knows it."
It was coming, Prudy feared—her sister's naughty temper. She saw a shadow no larger than a man's hand; but it would not do to let it grow. She must brush it away at once.
"Let's play something in the house," said she, quickly.