The two little seat-mates were becoming “bosom friends.” Tate regarded Dotty as a superior being, and Miss Dimple was quite willing to be looked up to and copied. Much of their time out of school was spent in printing letters to each other, of which this is a specimen:—
Deer Tait:
Jhonnie cald Me todelkins. One time Flierway put a pertater onter the Kerryseen Kan, onter the nose. kiss tid for Me.
Truely yours,
Alice Parlin.
This letter was the longest one Dotty had ever written. It cost her an hour’s patient labor, and just as she was folding it carefully in the shape of a diamond, Prudy tipped the inkstand over it, and almost “blotted it out forever.” Dotty was about to scold, but stopped to count ten, and then said, with almost a smile,—
“No matter. You didn’t spoil anything but the ‘Toddlekins,’ and that was so crooked I was ’shamed of it.”
Then Dotty hung the letter on the clothes line to dry, while her heart danced for joy because she had been so patient with Prudy.
But one morning Tate did not appear at school, and to Miss Dimple’s great grief, the following note was given her by Ben Penny:—
Darling Dotty:
I canot set with you enny more. Ime going to my mothers arnts scholl. The one that the mice eat up her cows. Good by.
Verry truley,
Sarah Penny.
Dotty sat for a whole minute with her head on her hand. She could not remember about this queer “arnt,” though Tate had described all her relatives, and, without doubt, this one among the others.