"Very well," said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the house and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie."
So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, and at last came to a stand-still in Bridget's chamber over the kitchen, tired enough to sit down a while—all but Prudy, who "didn't have any kind of tiredness about her."
"Look here, Prudy Parlin," said Grace, "you mustn't open that drawer."
"Who owns it?" said Prudy, putting in both hands.
"Why, Bridget does, of course."
"No, she doesn't," said Prudy, "God owns this drawer, and he's willing I should look into it as long as I'm a mind to."
"Well, I'll tell aunt Louise, you see if I don't. That's the way little Paddy girls act that steal things."
"I ain't a stealer," cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you once, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. You're a Paddy!—O, here's a ink-stand!"
"Put it right back," said Susy, "and come away."
"Let me take it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Prudy's hand, "I'm going to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback," said he, jumping up on a stand. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'O yes! O yes! O yes! Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'"