"Wasn't she crazy, mamma?"

Mrs. Parlin shook her head.

"No, I am afraid not, dear. Only, when she allowed anger to stay in her heart, it made her feel blind and dizzy. Perhaps she was crazy for the time."

Dotty hung her head again. She remembered how blind and dizzy she herself had felt while screaming at Norah that morning.

"This little girl had no mother to warn her against indulging her temper. When she had the feeling of hate swelling at her heart, n.o.body told her what it was like. _You_ know what it is like, Dotty?"

Dotty's chin drooped, and rested in the hollow of her neck.

"I don't want to tell you, mamma."

"Like _murder_, my child."

Dotty shuddered, though she had known this before. Her mother had often read to her from the Bible, that "whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer."

"Well, there was no one to love this poor Harriet; she was not lovable."

"No, 'm, she was _hateable_!" remarked Dotty, anxious to say something; for if she held her peace, she was afraid her mother would think she was applying the story to herself.

"There was no one to love her; so a woman took her, and was paid for it by the town."

"Town? Town, mamma? A _town_ is _houses_."

"She was paid for it by men in the town. I don't know whether this woman tried to teach Harriet in the right way or not. It may be she had so much to do that she thought it less trouble to punish her when she was naughty than to instruct her how to be good."

"O, yes; I s'pose she struck her with a stick," said Dotty, patting her forefingers together--"just this way."

"Harriet had the care of one of Mrs. Gray's children, a lively little boy about two years old."

"Was he cunning? As cunning as Katie Clifford? Did he say, 'If you love me, you give me hunnerd dollars; and I go buy me 'tick o' canny'?"

"Very likely he was quite as cunning as Katie. You would hardly think any one could get out of patience with such a little creature--would you, my daughter?"

"No, indeed!" cried Dotty, eagerly, and feeling that she was on safe ground, for she loved babies dearly, and was always patient with them.

"I don't know but Harriet was envious of Mrs. Gray's little boy, because he had nicer things to eat than she had."

"Well, it ought to have nicer things, mamma, 'cause it hadn't any teeth."

"And she got tired of running after him."

"No matter if she did get tired, mamma; the baby was tireder than she was!"

"And the parents think now it is very likely she was in the habit of striking him when n.o.body knew it."

"What a naughty, wicked, awful girl!" cried Dotty, her eyes flashing.

"She had a fiery temper, my child, and had never learned to control it."

Dotty looked at her feet in silence.

"The baby was afraid of his little nurse; but he could not speak to tell how he was abused; all he could do was to cry when he was left with Harriet. But one day Mrs. Gray was obliged to go away to see her sick mother. She charged Harriet to take good care of little Freddy, and give him some baked apples and milk if he was hungry."

"With bread in?" suggested Dotty.

"Yes, I suppose so. Then she kissed her baby. He put his arms around her neck, and cried to go too; but she could not take him."

"I s'pose he cried 'cause he 'xpected that awful girl was a-going to shake him," said Dotty, indignantly.

"I cannot tell you precisely what Harriet did to him; but when the father and mother got home, that darling boy was moaning in great pain.

They sent for the doctor, who said his spine was injured, and perhaps he would never walk again; and, indeed, he never did."

"O, mamma! mamma Parlin!"

"Yes, my child; and it is supposed that Harriet must have hurt him in one of her fits of rage."

Dotty's face had grown very white.

"O, mamma, what did the folks do with Harriet?"

"They took her to court, and tried her for abusing the little boy. They could not prove that she was really guilty, though everybody believed she was."

"I know what 'guilty' means, mamma; it means _hung_."

"No, dear; if she hurt the baby she was guilty, whether she was punished for it or not."

"Well, she did it, I just know she did it!" exclaimed Dotty, greatly excited. "That little tinty boy!"

"The judge pitied her for her youth and ignorance; so did the twelve men called the 'jury;' and she was allowed to go free."

"Then did she 'buse somebody's else's baby, mamma?"

"I hope not. The last I heard of her she was married to a negro fiddler."

"O!"

"Do you know why I have told you this sad story, my little daughter?"

"'Cause, 'cause--Harriet beat her head against the door, and hurt a baby, and--and--married black folks!"

Dotty was very pale, and there was a tear in her voice; still her mother could not be sure that her words had made much impression. She was afraid her long story had been "love's labor lost."

But I believe it had not been. Not entirely, at least. Dotty thought of Harriet all the afternoon, and walked about the house with a demureness quite unusual.

"O, Prudy!" said she, when they two were alone in the parlor, looking over a book of engravings, "I'm going to tell you something; 'twill make you scream right out loud, and your hair stick up!"