"Do I?" said Dotty. "I thought butter always melted in anybody's mouth.
Does it make my mouth cold to be good, d'ye s'pose?"
"La, me, I don't know," replied the girl, washing a potato vigorously.
"I might wash those potatoes," said Dotty, plucking Norah's sleeve; "do you put soap on them?"
"Not much soap—no."
"Well, then, Norah, you shouldn't put any soap on them; that's why I asked; for my mother just washes and rinses 'em; that's the proper way."
"For pity's sake," said Norah, giving the little busybody a good-natured push. "What's going on in the parlor, Miss Dotty? You'd better run and see. If you should go in there and look out of the window, perhaps a monkey would come along with an organ."
"No, he wouldn't, Norah, and if he did, Prudy'd let me know."
As Dotty spoke she was employed in slicing an onion, while the tears ran down her cheeks; but a scream from Norah caused her to drop the knife.
"Why, what is it?" said Dotty.
"Ugh! It's some horrid little animil crawling down my neck."