"Yes'm; I shaked her."
Mrs. Pragoff now remembered, with terror, that there had been a little trouble with Dotty's windpipe. Could she have choked to death?
Rising instantly, she threw on her wrapper, and was hurrying across the passage, when Fly added,—
"'Haps she'll let you wake her; she wouldn't let me 'n' Prudy."
"You little mischief, is that what you mean? She won't let you wake her?"
"No'm, she won't," replied artless Fly; "she said she wouldn't be bovvered."
Mrs. Pragoff went to bed again, laughing at her own folly.
Dotty, it seems, was feeling very much like a bitter-sour apple. It had always been a peculiarity of hers to visit her own sins upon other people. Prudy did not suspect in the least what the matter was, but knew, from experience, it was safest to ask no questions.
"I'm going back to auntie's, this morning."
"Why, Dotty, Uncle Augustus and auntie won't be home till night. Mrs. Pragoff said she would take us to the Park and the Museum, you know."