"Is um _you_?" she cried gleefully.

Charlie said it was.

"You didn't came to see big folks--did you? You camed to see Katie. I love you deely."

Then she tried to kiss him; but Charlie drew away.

"O, is your face sore?" asked the little girl.

By this time they had got as far as the seat in the trees, and Charlie had found his tongue.

"I didn't come thee _you_," said he. "I came thee your grandpa'th pig."

"O," said Katie, perfectly satisfied.

Off they started for the pig-pen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WASHING THE PIG.--Page 137.]

"I'm glad Dotty Dimble goed away," said Katie, swinging Charlie's hand; "her's stinchy and foolidge."

"Good girlth don't thay tho," said sweet little Charlie rather shocked.

"Well, I do; stinchy and foolidge!" repeated Katie, as severely as if she had known what the words meant.

The pig was not expecting any visitors, and when he found that Charlie and Katie had brought him nothing to eat, he did not seem very glad to see them.

"How you do, piggy?" said Katie, swinging a stick through the opening by the trough.

Piggy ran away, looking very unamiable; and then he came back again, rolling his little eyes, and grunting sulkily.

"He don't look pleathant," said Charlie.

"No," replied Katie, archly; "I guess um don't want to be kissed."

Piggy winked his pink eyes, as if to say, "Ah, but I do."

"Does you?" said Katie, kindly, "then I'll frow you one;" and she did it from the tips of her clean fingers.

"But piggy's velly dirty," said she, wiping her lips on her ap.r.o.n.

"Don't they wath him?" said Charlie; "they wath theep."

"Um isn't a sheep," returned Katie; "um's a pig."

"But your gwampa could wath him."

"No, gampa couldn't; gampa's deaf. I'll tell Ruthie, and Ruthie'll wash him with the toof brush."

"I with thee would," sighed Charlie; "thee ought to. O ho!" he added, a bright thought striking him; "you got a mop?"

"A mop?"

"Yes; a bwoom 'thout any bwoom on it; only wags."

Katie knew what he meant in a minute; and soon her hair was flying in the wind, as she ran into the house for her handled mop. She looked first in the parlor, and then in the front hall; but at last she found it in the wash-room. She was very sly about it, for she was not sure Ruthie would approve of this kind of housework. Then Charlie tugged out a pail of water, and dipped in the mop; and between them both they thrust it through the opening of the pen, upon piggy's back. But the dirty creature did not love clean water. When he felt the mop coming down, he thought the sky was falling, and ran as fast as Chicken Little frightened by the rose-leaf.

It was of no use. The mop was wilful, and fell into the trough; and there it staid, though the children spent the rest of the forenoon in vain attempts to hook it out. When Ruthie went that noon to feed the pig, she found the trough choked with a mop, a hoe, a shovel, and several clothes-pins. She did not stop to inquire into the matter, but took the articles out, one by one, saying to herself, with a smile,--

"Some of that baby's work. I couldn't think what had become of my mop; she's enough to try the patience of Job. And now," added Ruth, throwing her ap.r.o.n over her head, "I may as well look up Miss Dimple. There's not a better child in the world than she is when she pleases; but deary me, when things do go wrong!"

Just then a wagon drove up to the gate, and Ruth said, as she saw a burly figure alight from it,--

"Why, that can't be Uncle Seth? I'm afraid something has happened at our house!"

CHAPTER IX.

A DARK DAY.

Meanwhile Dotty was lying on the hay in the barn scaffold. It is very easy to be unhappy when we particularly try to be so; and Dotty had arrived at the point of _almost_ believing that she _almost_ wished she was actually dead.

And, to add to her gloom, a fierce-looking man, with a long horse-whip in his hand, came and peeped in at the barn door, and screamed to Dotty in a hoa.r.s.e voice that "Ruth Dillon wanted her right off, and none of her dilly-dallying."

And then, on going into the house, what should she learn but that this man had come to take Ruth home, because her mother was sick. The children--so Ruth said--must stay with Polly and be little ladies.

O, dear, it was as lonesome as a line-storm, after lively Ruth had gone away. Dotty began to think she liked her brisk little scoldings, after all.

"Does you feel so bad?" said little Flyaway, gazing on her sober cousin with pity; "your mouth looks just this way;" and, putting up both hands, she drew down her own little lips at the corners.

"Yes, I feel bad," said Dotty. "You needn't talk to me; where's your orange?"

"I squoze it," replied Flyaway; "and falled it down my froat. But I didn't had enough. If you pees, um, give me some more."

"Why, what an idea!" said Dotty, laughing.

But when she began to divide her own orange into sections, Katie looked on expectantly, knowing she should have a share. Dotty ate two quarters, gave one to Katie, and reserved the fourth for Polly. She longed to eat this last morsel herself, but Polly had praised her once for giving away some toys, and she wished to hear her say again, "Why, what a generous little girl!"

But when she smilingly offered the bite, what was her surprise to hear Polly say in an indifferent tone,--

"Well, well, child, you needn't have saved such a tiny piece for me; it doesn't amount to anything!"

At the same time she ate the whole at a mouthful. Dotty felt very much irritated. Did Miss Polly think oranges grew on bushes? What was the use to be generous if people wouldn't say "thank you?"

"I don't feel much better than I did when I gave the beggar my money.