"Grandma has told me what the Bible means. Now I understand every single thing."

Jennie did not seem as much delighted as had been expected.

"She says G.o.d can get that camel through a needle."

"O, I remember," said Jennie; "you mean that Bible camel."

"There isn't anything He can't do," continued Dotty; "the richest men, richer than your father, can get to heaven if G.o.d's a mind to take 'em."

"Not bad people," said Jennie, shaking her head.

"I don't know about that; she didn't say," said Dotty, looking puzzled.

"O, no, I s'pose not. G.o.d wouldn't be a mind to. For don't you see, Jennie Vance, it's just _like_ a camel. There can't anybody go through themselves unless G.o.d _pulls_ 'em through."

I don't know what Grandma Parlin would have thought if she had heard her words chopped up in this way; but it made very little difference to Jennie, who paid no attention at all.

"You're father'll get there," added Dotty; "so I thought I'd tell you."

"Your shoestring's untied," said Jennie, coolly.

"And I don't care now if you are the richest," said Dotty, stooping to tie the string; "for G.o.d loves me just as well when I wear Prudy's old things; and so do all the good people in this town, and the minister too; grandma said so. I don't care how much you talk about our old Deacon, or our eating mola.s.ses. That isn't anything! Grandma says its harder for rich children to be good, and I told her I was real glad I was half-poor."

"You're stepping right in the mud," cried Jennie.

"And then Grandma said that it didn't make any difference any way about that, if I only loved G.o.d; but if I didn't love G.o.d, it did."

"There," said Jennie, "I haven't heard half you've said; and I guess you've forgotten all about going strawberrying."

"I almost know grandma won't be willing," replied Dotty; "we've got company, too; see those ladies in the window."

"All the better," replied Jennie, cheerily. "You go in and behave as beautifully as ever you can, and your grandma'll be so busy talking, she'll say yes before she thinks. That's the way my mamma does. Say 'Crossman's orchard,' remember, but don't tell which one."

So Jennie staid outside while Dotty entered the parlor softly, and stood by her grandmother's chair, waiting the proper time to speak.

"Strawberrying, did you say?" asked Mrs. Parlin, presently.

"Yes, grandma; the berries are just as thick."

"O, just as fick!" repeated Katie, clapping her hands.

"In the Crossman orchard," added Dotty.

"Prosser Horcher," put in Katie, choking a little at the large words.

"May her, gamma?"

Now, Dotty knew, as her grandmother did not, that there were two orchards; and the one she meant was a mile and a half away.

"Yes, you may go, Alice; it is only a few steps; but put on an old dress, and don't stay late; you know you are hardly well since your sore throat."

Dotty had not actually told a wrong story, but for almost the first time she had deceived, and she knew the sin was the same. While she was exchanging her pretty pink frock for one of dark calico, her conscience p.r.i.c.ked so painfully that she almost wished to stay at home.

"Just as soon as we get out of the village," said Jennie, "I'm going barefoot; mother said I might."

"How splendid your mother is!" sighed Dotty. "Grandma's so particular!

But any way I'm going without my stockings; I declare I will. My throat's so far away from my feet, what hurt will it do?"

"Children, obey your parents," said the troublesome voice.

"Grandma isn't my parent," thought Dotty, tugging away at her boot-lacings. They went out through the kitchen, to get Dotty's red and white picnic basket; but they crept like a pair of thieves, lest Ruthie, who was mixing waffles, should hear them, and take notice of Dotty's bare ankles.

Once out of the village, it did not take long for Miss Dimple to slip off her boots and tuck them in her pocket.

"O, how nice and cool!" murmured she, poking her little pink toes into the burning sand; till presently, a thorn, which appeared to be waiting for that very purpose, thrust its way deep into her foot. She sat down in the middle of the road and screamed. Jennie tried her best to draw out the thorn, but only succeeded in breaking it off. Then, with a clumsy pin, she made a voyage of discovery round and round in the soft flesh of Dotty's foot, never hitting the thorn, or coming anywhere near it.

"O, dear!" said Jennie, petulantly; "we've wasted half an hour! What's the use for you to be always getting into trouble? A great many berries we shall have at this rate! and I was going to ask my mamma to let me have a party."

"There!" said Dotty, bravely, "I'm going right along now, and no more fuss about it."

It was hard work; Dotty limped badly; and all the while the cruel thorn was triumphantly working its way farther in. The Crossman orchard was not very far away now; but when they had reached it, and had crept under the fence, why, where were the strawberries? What the boys had not gathered they had trampled down; and the truth was, there had been very few in the first place. There was nothing to do but pluck here and there a stray berry, and make the most of it.

"This is what I call a shame," sighed Jennie; "and look at the sky; it's growing as black as a pickpocket."

"Why, yes," moaned Dotty; "how fast that sun has gone down!"

But this was a mistake. It was only six o'clock. The sun, understanding his business perfectly, had not hurried one jot. The clouds were merely spreading a dark background for some magnificent fireworks; in other words, a thunder-shower was coming up.

"Let's go right straight home," said Jennie; and Dotty was glad to hear the words, for in her own brave little heart she had determined not to be the first to surrender.

"Let's go across the fields," she replied; "it's the nearest way home."

By this time heavy drops were pattering down on the long gra.s.s, and making a hollow sound on the little girls' hats.

"Why, it's raining," remarked Dotty.

"You don't say so," sniffed Jennie, whose temper was quite upset, "perhaps you think you're telling some news."

Then came the frightful boom of thunder.

"What's that?" whispered Dotty, with white lips. "I'm afraid, Jennie; I certainly am."

"For shame, Dotty Dimple! I thought you were the girl that knew all about G.o.d and the Bible. I shouldn't think you'd be afraid of thunder!"

"O, but I am!" was the meek reply. "I'm as afraid as I can live."

"There, hush up, Dotty! When you've been and got us into a fix, you'd better keep still."

"I, Jennie Vance? I never! What a story!"