Prudy said she was willing. Prudy was always expected to stand with a little flask in her hand, ready to pour oil on Dotty’s troubled waters.
“Miss Parker,” whispered she, taking the teacher aside, “my little sister has done a dreadful thing, and she can’t be happy till you forgive her.”
“Why, what has she done?” asked Miss Parker. “She learns wonderfully fast. I am pleased with Dotty. She gives me more trouble than my little Prudy did; but I like her very much. What has she done?”
“She told you a wrong story last night, Miss Parker. She and Tate Penny whisper the whole time; but Dotty held up her hand in the class, and you praised her for being good; but she says your kiss ’burnt her mouth,’ and the moment she got out of the school-room it seemed as if her heart would break.”
“I remember I praised her,” said Miss Parker, thoughtfully. “I never dreamed she had deceived me.”
“Will you forgive her, Miss Parker? She wants to know if you certainly do.”
“O, yes; you may tell her I forgive her,” replied the teacher, still looking thoughtful. “But do you say she and Tate Penny both whisper? Tate has a very honest face; and I have never seen her whisper.”
Prudy did not wonder at this; she remembered what a way Miss Parker had of not seeing.
“I believe Tate whispers,” said Prudy; “but I ought not to have told of it. I’m sorry.”