“Why, we couldn’t, Dotty; it’s just no use.”
“I’ll try if you will,” said Miss Dimple, anxiously, “’cause Miss Parker is a darling, and I want her to love me.”
“Well, you may try, Dotty Dimple, but I shan’t! I tried one day last summer, and it made me so hungry I like to died!”
Dotty said no more, but fell into a thoughtful mood.
O, how delightful it would be to have dear Miss Parker put her hand on her head, and say, with one of those beaming smiles,—
“This is my good little Dotty Dimple!”
How painful to hear her say, in a tone of displeasure,—
“Dotty, if you were only as good as Tate! Tate doesn’t whisper all day long. Why don’t you try to be like her?”
Ah, Miss Parker’s lovely brown eyes could not have been very far-sighted, and her pretty little ears, with the coral jewels in them, were not good for much, I am sure. Dotty scowled fiercely at Tate that night, as she saw her hand rising like a little white lie.