"Why, Dotty Dimple, where have you been? How did you get so wet?"
No answer.
"Have you been trying to swim?" laughed Prudy, going up and stroking her forehead.
"Prudy Parlin, why didn't you come up here before?" was the sudden response. "I called you and called you.—Where'd you put my clo'es?"
"Why, Dotty, dear, I didn't know you were in the house; and I never touched your clothes."
"Yes, you did. I can't find the key. I'm going to freeze. You don't care. You never brought me a speck of pudding. I'm sick, and going to have the sore throat. I wouldn't eat it now if the mayor was right in this room—so there!"
Nothing could exceed the dreariness of Dotty's tone. Susy, though by no means unfeeling, could scarcely refrain from laughing at the child's unreasonableness; but Prudy, who "was exceeding wise" in reading the heart, knew that Dotty's anger was not very real; that it was partly assumed to hide her wretchedness. Therefore patient Prudy resolved to bear with the sharp words, believing Dotty would be pleasant by and by, when she felt comfortable.
After some delay in hunting, she and Susy dressed the child in fresh clothes. Then Dotty consented to eat a little dinner, and go into her grandma Read's room, to sit on the lounge.
"This little girl doesn't look well," said grandma Read, the first moment; "her cheeks are altogether too red. Where has thee been to-day, Alice?"
"Been down to the beach, picking shells, grandma," replied Dotty, looking hard at the carpet.