Presently, while engaged in the soothing business of calling herself names, she dropped off to sleep. She dreamed of red wherries and "white waves;" but never once dreamed that her mother had come, and was bending over the bed, actually "kissing little me."
"Poor thing," said Mrs. Parlin to herself, "if she doesn't have a settled fever I shall be thankful. Will the time ever come when my little daughter will learn to obey her mother?"
Mrs. Parlin stole out of the room very softly; but a sly little rogue, observing that she left the creaking door a little ajar, watched an opportunity, and stole in on her "tipsy toes." It was "wee Katie." Mrs. Parlin had brought her home, to keep her out of the way of Mrs. Clifford, who was still quite ill.
The first thing which roused Dotty to consciousness was a feeling of suffocation. O, was she in the bay? Was she drowning? Something lay very close over her mouth; but it was not water: in fact it was a pillow; and on the pillow sat little Katie with her whole weight. But being a very restless child, it is not likely she would have remained in that position long enough to strangle her cousin, even if Dotty had not thrown up her arms and released herself suddenly.
"Why, Katie Clifford, is that you?"
"Yes, this is me!" replied Katie, with a voice as sweet as a wind-harp. "You didn't know I was comin'. You turned your face away: you wouldn't look to me!"
"I s'pose I was asleep, Katie. You didn't mean to sit down on my head, did you, darling?"
"Yes, I did meant to. But you is sick. Folks mus'n't talk."
"No," replied Dotty, smiling, "when folks are sick they mustn't talk."
"Well," said Katie, putting her finger on her lip, "they is!"