"Always wait till you hear both sides of a story!" said Mr. Parlin, as he and his daughter walked home.
"Just the words mother said this very day," cried Susy, skipping lightly over the paving-stones. "It's so queer you and mother should both talk so much alike."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WATER-KELPIE.
It was nearly time for vacation. As the children were to start on the next Monday for Willow-brook, their mother allowed them to spend their last Wednesday afternoon with their cousin Florence. It fell to Prudy's lot to dress her little sister.
"I'm ever so glad," said Dotty, "that the barber snipped off my kyurls. Don't you think I do look like a boy, now, Prudy? You may call me Tommy, if you want to; I'm willin'."
"There, now," she exclaimed, when her toilet was made, "say me my lesson; please to, Prudy."
"O, I forgot all about that" replied the little teacher, uneasily. "Susy 'll be done practising in half an hour, and I thought I'd just have time to make my doll's boots,—finish them, I mean. Can't you wait till Saturday, Dotty?"
"O, my suz, Prudy Parlin! When I get to be a great sister to you, I won't treat you so. I want to get my letters all smooth done to-day,—don't want to wait till Sat'day."