“Lina Rosenbug,” said she with dignity, “some days I can let you ride, and some days it may not be convenient for me to do so. I should devise you not to tease.”
Lina pouted.
“My mother says you’re a big-feeling little girl,” cried she. “You wouldn’t stay to my house; you ran home, and crawled into the cellar; you know you did.”
“Yes,” retorted Dotty, “’cause my mamma didn’t wish me to play with you, and I knew it. That’s why I’d rather stay down cellar. She said you betwitched me, Lina Rosenbug.”
Dotty was sorry, next minute, that she had spoken so unkindly.
“Now Lina never’ll speak to me again,” thought she. “Would I play with a little girl when her mamma said I betwitched her?”
But Dotty was quite mistaken. Lina had heard cross words all her little life, and was hardened to them. She clung to Miss Dimple only the more closely after this; which was a pity, for Dotty was really anxious to obey her mother, and keep away from the beguiling little Jewess.
Meanwhile Dotty was becoming rather intimate with her young seat-mate. She knew precisely how many dresses Tate had, and how many she expected to have; the names of her uncles and aunts; which were the good ones, that gave presents, and which were the cross ones, that made you shut the doors after you, and said, “O, she can skip up stairs and get my cap-box; she’s just big enough to run.”
In her turn Dotty related all her own adventures, both by sea and land, Tate listening with a quick twinkle of her large gray eyes, which was very encouraging.