"O, I never did, in all my life, see such a child," wailed Susy. "What made you go and meddle with my dear little gold-edged tea-set?"
Dotty looked like an injured lamb, brushed the wayward hair out of her eyes, and gazed wistfully into her sister's face.
"Is I your little comfort, Susy? Is I your little comfort?"
"No," cried Susy, wavering between a smile and a tear; "no, indeed! To think of your being a comfort! O, my stars!"
"Well, then," continued the little one, in a soothing, cooing tone, "then I never broked it; it broked itself!"
So saying, she produced from the depths of her pocket the fragments of the gilt-edged toy. They were past the healing power even of Spalding's glue, that was certain. At the painful sight, poor Susy's patience flew into as many pieces as the teapot.
"O, you naughty, naughty thing, to say it broke itself!"
"Then it didn't," replied the little culprit, not a whit dismayed. "Then 'twas Prudy. We was playing 'thimble-coop.' She broked it all to smash!"
"O, mother," said Susy, running out to the kitchen; "Dotty's making up fibs as fast as she can speak! You'll have to shut her up in the closet."
"Not so fast, my dear. Let us wait till we hear both sides of the story."