Soon all the little girls had repeated their texts; but, to her great surprise, Dotty had not been called upon to say or do a single thing. It was a marked slight. She hardly knew whether to be angry or not. "I guess the lady didn't see me," thought Dotty. So she cleared her throat with a loud noise, which echoed across the room. Then Miss Carlisle looked at her and smiled. She was off the seat, standing on her tiptoes, Prudy tried to draw her back; but so much the more Dotty persisted. She shook off her sister's hand.
"I wasn't a 'peakin' to you," said she.
"Never mind her, Prudy," said Miss Carlisle, for the poor girl was crimson with shame; "let your little sister come to me; perhaps she wishes to tell me something."
Miss Carlisle bent forward, and let Dotty place her rosy lips close to her face.
"Now, what do you wish, little one?"
"You didn't hear me say my werse," whispered Dotty, in a tone of pique.
"Your verse? Did you learn one, child?"
"Yes, 'm, I did. I learned it all day yes'day."
"O, very well! then say it, by all means, dear."
Prudy's face expressed perfect despair. She tried to hush Dotty; but one might as well coax the wind to stop blowing. The child's thoughts had been like caged birds, and now out they must fly.