So that was settled; and Flyaway decided to write off the whole story, and send to her father—a mixture of little sharp zigzags, curves, and dots. When Horace asked her what these meant, she said "she couldn't 'member now; but papa would know."
There was another matter which troubled grandma Parlin somewhat. Dotty had gone to the store, after dinner, with two ten-cent pieces in her porte-monnaie. She had bought for herself some jujube paste, but in returning had lost the other dime.
"Grandma, do you think that is fair?" said Prudy. "She has lost my money, but she doesn't care at all; only laughs. I was going to put it with some more I had, and buy mother a collar."
"No, it is not right," replied grandma. "I will talk with her, and try to make her willing to give you some of hers in return."
Ah, grandma Parlin, you little knew what you were undertaking when you called Dotty Dimple into the back parlor next morning, and began to talk about that money! Children's minds are strange things. They are like bottles with very small necks; and when you pour in an idea, you must pour very slowly, a drop at a time, or it all runs over. Dotty did not know much more about money than Flyaway.
"My child," said her grandmother, "it seems you have lost something which belonged to Prudy."
Dotty looked up carelessly from the picture of a rose she held in her hand, which she meant to adorn with yellow paint.
"O, yes 'm; you mean that money."
"There are several things you don't know, Dotty; and one is, that you have no right to lose other people's things."
"No 'm."