"She keeps the cake in a stone jar," said Dotty, eagerly; "and the strawberries are down cellar in a gla.s.s dish--cost a cent apiece."

"The slips they grew from cost a cent apiece; that is what you mean,"

said Polly; "you hear things rather hap-hazard sometimes, Dotty, and you ought to be more careful."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A DARK DAY.--Page 154.]

The tea-kettle was soon singing on the stove, and Dotty forgot her peculiar trials when she saw the table covered with dainties. She was not sure grandma would have approved of the cake and tarts, but they were certainly very nice, and it was a pleasure to see how Polly enjoyed them. Dotty presumed she had never had such things when she lived with the "hard-faced woman."

"It wasn't everywhere," she said, "that she saw such thick cream as rose to the tops of Mrs. Parlin's pans."

She poured it freely over the strawberries and into her own tea, which it made so delicious that she drank three cups. Then after supper she seemed to feel quite cheery for her, and, taking Katie in her arms, rocked her to sleep to the tune of "China," which is not very lively music, it must be confessed.

"Aunt 'Ria puts her to bed awake," said Dotty. "She's going to sleep in my bed to-night."

"Very well," said Polly, "but you will sleep with me."

"Why, Miss Polly! what if Katie should wake up?"

"She won't be likely to; but I can't help it if she does. I may have the nightmare in the night."

"What is the nightmare?"

"It is something perfectly dreadful, child! I sincerely hope you'll never know by sad experience. It's the most like dying of any feeling I ever had in my life. I can't move a finger, but if I don't move it's sure death; and somebody has to shake me to bring me out of it."

Dotty turned pale.

"Miss Polly, O, please, I'd rather sleep with Katie!"

"But how would you feel to have me die in the night?"

"O, dear, dear, dear," cried Dotty; "let me go for the doctor this minute!"

"Why, child, I haven't got it now, and perhaps I shan't have it at all; but if I do, I shall groan, and that's the way you will know."

Dotty ran into the shed, threw her ap.r.o.n, still sticky with starch, over her head, and screamed at the wood-pile.

"O, if grandma were only at home, or Ruth, or Abner!"

"Why, what's the matter, little Goody-Two-Shoes?" said a manly voice.

Abner had just come from his day's work in the meadow.

"Polly's here," gasped Dotty. "She's afraid she's going to die in the night, and she wants me to shake her."

Abner leaned against a beam and laughed heartily.

"Never you fear, little one! I have heard that story about Polly's dying in the night ever since I can remember; and she hasn't died yet. You just say your prayers, dear, and go to sleep like a good little girl, and that's the last you'll know about it till morning."

So saying, he caught Dotty by the shoulders, and tossed her up to the rafters. The child's spirits rose at once. It was such a comfort to have that strong Abner in the house in case of accidents.

She said her prayers more earnestly than usual, but it was nearly five minutes before she fell asleep. The last thing she heard was Miss Polly singing a very mournful hymn through her nose; and, while she was wondering why it should keep people alive to shake them, she pa.s.sed into dreamland. Very little good would such a heavy sleeper have done if Miss Polly had had an ill turn. It was Polly who was obliged to shake Dotty, and that rather roughly, before she could rouse her.

"Where am I? Who is it?" said she. "O, Miss Polly, are you dead?"

"Hush, child; don't speak so loud; or you'll wake Abner. Little Katie is sick, and I want you to stay with her while I go down stairs and light a fire."

CHAPTER X.

THE END OF THE WORLD.

Dotty shuddered. It seemed so unearthly and horrible to be awake at night; to see a lamp burning, and Katie looking so very white. It was the strawberries which had made her ill, as Miss Polly confessed. When that good but ignorant woman had gone down stairs, Dotty had much ado to keep from screaming outright.

"I thought somebody would die," said she to herself; "but I didn't s'pose it would be Katie. O, Katie, Katie Clifford! you're the cunningist child. We can't have you die!"

"Somebody leave me alone," moaned Katie; "and 'twas you'n the Polly woman. I don't love anybody in this world!"

"Darling! I didn't mean to," said Dotty, "now honest. Polly said, 'O, dear! she was going to die'; but I might have known she wouldn't. She told a wrong story--I mean she made a mistake."

"You was naughty," said Katie, "velly naughty; but you didn't mean to."

"No, Katie; 'twas Polly that was naughty."

"The krilt got off o' me," said Katie, picking at the tufted coverlet; "and then I was sick."

"Miss Polly said it was the strawberries, darling; and the cream poured over them so thick."

"And getting into the watering-trough," added Dotty to herself, uneasily.

"Yes," sighed Katie: "'twas the stawbollies. Did _I_ ask for the stawbollies? No, but the Polly woman gave 'em to me. Didn't want 'em; I wanted to be well."

After two weary hours, which seemed as long as days almost, poor little Katie was easier, and fell asleep. Dotty, who had taken several naps in her chair, would now have gone to bed again; but Miss Polly was dressed, and said she could not close her eyes if she tried; she meant to go down stairs to her knitting. Dotty was afraid to stay alone. She was always a little timid, and to-night her nerves had been considerably tried. The lamp cast frightful shadows, and the newly-risen moon shone through the white curtains with ghostly light. She could "preach" to Jennie Vance about G.o.d's "holding the whole world in his arms;" but she could not always remember it herself. She put on a white wrapper of Susy's, and, looking like a wimpled nun, followed Polly down stairs. If she thought of wee Katie at all, she thought there were good angels in the room to guard her; but she could not trust _herself_ with them; she would rather keep close to Polly.

"I think," whispered Polly, unlocking the back door and looking out at the sky, "it must be very near morning; but the clocks have both run down, and I can only guess at the time by my feelings."

Then Polly made a brisk fire in the stove, and set the tea-kettle to humming.

"Now I will get the milk-pail," said she, "and you may put on the tea-pot. I am faint for want of something to drink."

It was one of Polly's peculiarities that she always talked to children as if they had as much judgment as grown people. Dotty did not know where to look for any tea-pot except the very best one, which stood on a shelf in the china closet; that she brought and set on the stove, empty.

"Let me go too, let me go too!" cried she, as Polly was walking out with the milk-pails.

The daisies, with "their little lamps of dew," seemed still asleep, and so did all the "red-mouthed flowers" in the garden. The cows looked up with languid surprise at sight of their visitors, but offered no objections to being milked. Dotty gave one hasty peep at the white hen sitting on the venerable duck's eggs; but the hen seemed offended. Dotty ran away, and took a survey of the "green gloom" of the trees, in the midst of which was suspended the swing, looking now as melancholy as a gallows.

"O, what a dreadful night this is!" thought the child, standing bolt upright, lest she should fall asleep. "Where's the sun? He hasn't taken off his red silk night cap. He hasn't got back from China yet. Only think,--if he shouldn't come back at all! I heard somebody say, the other day, the world was coming to an end. Miss Polly," said she, aloud, re-entering the barn, "isn't this the longest night you ever saw in all the days of your life?"