"Bubbles," she said, "papa never said you mustn't go near that house, did he?"

"No 'm."

"Well, just go peep in and tell me what it looks like. From the looks of the outside, I should say that it is nearly done. You peep in at the window."

Bubbles obeyed, and came back with the information. "Hit's got a flo'

an' a stove."

"Ah!" Dimple pondered. "Oh yes, that's to keep the baby chicks warm, I suppose. I wish I could see for myself. Is that all, Bubbles?"

"Ya.s.s 'm."

"I wish I hadn't told you to peep in," Dimple remarked, after a pause.

"I don't believe it was quite honest for me to do it, and I'll have to be uncomfortable till I tell mamma or papa. You oughtn't to have peeped, Bubbles."

"Yuh tole me to."

"So I did, but--well, you shouldn't have done it, just the same."

Bubbles rolled her eyes reproachfully, and began to mutter.

"There, never mind. It wasn't your fault," Dimple confessed, hastily.

But although Bubbles' countenance cleared, Dimple herself did not feel at ease till she had told her mother, which she did that night at bedtime.

"It was not right," her mother told her, "and was a bad example to Bubbles. That is where the trouble often comes in. Not so much in the actual wrong we do, but its effect upon others."

"I do want to see, so very much. Papa never made it so hard for me before."

"I know it, dear. I have realized very clearly all along how hard it must be for you, but I think when you do know you will be so pleased that you will forget this part of it. I am glad my little girlie was brave enough to tell of her asking Bubbles to peep."

And kissing her good-night, Mrs. Dallas left her little girl feeling comforted.

CHAPTER III

A Quarrel

"Raining! Isn't that too bad?" said Florence, leaning on one elbow in bed, and looking out of the window.

"Hm, hm," said Dimple, sleepily, from her pillow.

Florence slipped out of bed and stood looking dolefully at the falling drops.

"What do you suppose the birds do, Dimple?" she asked, going up to her, and softly shaking her.

"Oh," said Dimple, now awake, and sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, "I suppose they get under the leaves just as we do under an umbrella, or they go under the eaves, and places like that. I have seen them lots of times. It is raining, isn't it, Florence?"

"I said so, long ago," answered Florence; "now we can't go out of doors to play, and it is so nice outdoors. I don't see the sense of its raining in summer."

"Why," returned Dimple, sitting down on the floor to put on her shoes and stockings, "that is the very time for it to rain, or everything would dry up."

"Well, I wish it didn't have to," said Florence, coming away from the window, and sitting on the floor too. "What color stockings do you like best, Dimple?"

"I don't know; black, I think. Don't you?"

"I believe I do. My! there is the breakfast bell, and we are only beginning to get dressed. You fasten my b.u.t.tons, and I will fasten yours, Dimple, so we will get dressed in a hurry."

Their fingers flew, and they rushed down to breakfast two steps at a time.

"It was so dark this morning that we went to sleep again after you called us, mamma," explained Dimple.

"I will excuse you this time, but your breakfast is not as warm as it would have been earlier," said Mrs. Dallas, "and papa had to go away without his morning kiss."

"I am sorry," said Dimple. "Cold eggs aren't very good," she went on, pushing away her plate. "What can we do to-day, mamma?"

"What should you like to do?"

"I don't know," returned Dimple. "My feelings hurt me rainy days, and I don't know what I want."

Mrs. Dallas smiled, as she replied, "You might make paper dolls, they are good rainy day people; that would be one thing. Then you can paint."

"I haven't but one brush, and I have used up all the books and papers you gave me to paint in."

"I can find some more, perhaps, and you and Florence can take turn about with the paint brush."

Dimple looked as if that would not suit very well, and Florence seeing her look, felt a little hurt.

Paper dolls did not amuse them very long; and when Dimple was ready to color the pictures Mrs. Dallas had found for them, Florence declined absolutely to paint at all. So they both sat with their elbows on the window-sill, decidedly out of humor.

"Florence," said Dimple, presently, "I have an idea. Do you see that hogshead down there? It is running over."

"I see it," said Florence. "What of it; it isn't anything very wonderful."

"Well, you needn't be so disagreeable," said Dimple. "What I was going to say, is this; let's make paper boats, and put paper dolls in them. We can pretend the hogshead is Niagara Falls, and the water that runs down the gutter can be Niagara river."

"We will get sopping wet."

"Oh no, we won't; it isn't raining so awfully hard. I will put on my rubber waterproof, and you can put on mamma's. We can slip around there without any one seeing us, for mamma is busy on the other side of the house. Don't you think it would be fun?"

"Ye-es," said Florence, doubtfully.

"Let's hurry and make the boats then. Which paper dolls shall we take?

The ugliest, I think, because they will all be drowned anyhow; and don't let's take any pretty frocks, because we can make dolls to fit the frocks when these are drowned."

With paper boats, dolls and waterproofs they stole softly down the front stairs, and shutting the door after them very gently, ran around the house to the hogshead. The roses were heavy with rain, and the honeysuckle shook big drops on them, as they ran by.