It was the first time Dotty had ever dined at a public house. A bill of fare was something entirely new to her. She wondered how it happened that the Boston printers knew what the people in that hotel were about to have for dinner.

Mr. Parlin looked with amus.e.m.e.nt at the demure little lady beside him.

Not a sign of curiosity did she betray, except to gaze around her with keen eyes, which saw everything, even to the pattern of the napkins.

Some time she would have questions to ask, but not now.

"And what would you like for dinner, Alice?"

Mr. Parlin said this as they were sipping their soup. Dotty glanced at the small table before them, which offered scarcely anything but salt-cellars and castors, and then at the paper her father held in his hand. She was about to reply that she would wait till the table was ready; but as there was one man seated opposite her, and another standing at the back of her chair, she merely said,--

"I don't know, papa."

"A-la-mode beef; frica.s.seed chicken; Calcutta curry," read her mischievous father from the bill, as fast as he could read; "macaroni; salsify; flummery; sirup of cream. You see it is hard to make a choice, dear. Escaloped oysters; pigeon pie postponed."

"I'll take some of that, papa," broke in Dotty.

"What, dear?"

"Some of the pigeon pie 'sponed," answered Dotty, in a low voice, determined to come to a decision of some sort. It was not likely to make much difference what she should choose, when everything was alike wonderful and strange.

"Pigeon pie postponed," said Mr. Parlin to the man at the back of Dotty's chair; "turkey with oysters for me."

The polite waiter smiled so broadly that he showed two long rows of white teeth. It could not be Dotty who amused him. Her conduct was all that is prim and proper. She sat beside her papa as motionless as a waxen baby, her eyes rolling right and left, as if they were jerked by a secret wire. It certainly could not have been Dotty. Then what was it the man saw which was funny?

"Only one pigeon pie in the house, sir," said he, trying to look very solemn, "and if the young lady will be pleased to wait, I'll bring it to her in a few minutes. No such dish on any of the other bills of fare.

A rarity for this special day, sir. Anything else, miss, while you wait?"

Mr. Parlin looked rather surprised. There had been no good reason given for not bringing the pie at once; however, he merely asked Dotty to choose again; and this time she chose "tomato steak," at a venture.

There were two gentlemen at the opposite side of the table, and one of them watched Dotty with interest.

"Her mother has taken great pains with her," he thought; "she handles her knife and fork very well. Where have I seen that child before?"

While he was still calling to mind the faces of various little girls of his acquaintance, and trying to remember which face belonged to Dotty, the waiter arrived with the "pigeon pie postponed." He had chosen the time when most of the people had finished their first course, and the clinking of dishes was not quite so hurried as it had been a little while before. The table at which Mr. Parlin sat was nearly in the centre of the room. As the waiter approached with the pie, the same amused look pa.s.sed over his face once more.

He set the dish upon the table near Mr. Parlin, who proceeded to cut a piece for Miss Dimple. As the knife went into the pie, the crust seemed to move; and lo, "when the pie was opened," out flew a pigeon alive and well!

The bird at first hopped about the table in a frightened way, a little blind and dizzy from being shut up in such a dark prison; but a few breaths of fresh air revived him, and he flew merrily around the room, to the surprise and amus.e.m.e.nt of the guests. It was a minute or two before any of them understood what it meant. Then they began to laugh and say they knew why the pie was "postponed:" it was because the pigeon was not willing to be eaten alive.

It pa.s.sed as a capital joke; but I doubt if Dotty Dimple appreciated it.

She looked at the hollow crust, and then at the purple-crested dove, and thought a hotel dinner was even more peculiar than she had supposed. Did they have "live pies" every day? How did they bake them without even scorching the pigeons? But she busied herself with her nuts and raisins, and asked no questions.

At four o'clock she went with, her father to see the Public Gardens and other places of interest, and to buy a pair of new gloves. On the Common they met one of the gentlemen who had sat opposite them at dinner. He bowed as they were pa.s.sing, and said, with a smile,--

"Can this be my little friend, Miss Prudy Parlin?"

"It is her younger sister, Alice," replied her father.

"And I am Major Benjamin Lazelle, of St. Louis," said the gentleman.

After this introduction, the three walked along in company, and seemed to feel like old acquaintances; for Major Lazelle had once escorted Mrs.

Clifford on a journey to Maine, and since that time had been well known to the Clifford family. Mr. Parlin was glad to learn that he would start for St. Louis on the next day, and travel with himself and daughter nearly as far as they went. Major Lazelle was also well pleased, and began at once to make friends with Miss Dimple. The little girl had recovered from her trials of the morning, and was so delighted with all she saw that she "couldn't walk on two feet." She preferred to hop, skip, and jump.

"O, papa, papa, what _are_ those little dears, just the color of my kid gloves?"

"Those are deer, my child."

"Are they? I _said_ they were dears--didn't I? If they were _my_ dears, I'd keep them in a parlor, and let them lie on a silk quilt with a velvet pillow--wouldn't you?"

"This little girl reminds me strikingly of my old friend Prudy," said Major Lazelle, taking her hand. "When I saw her across the table I thought, 'Ah, now, there is a sweet little child who makes me remember something pleasant.' After a while I knew what that pleasant thing was--it was little Prudy."

Dotty looked up at Major Lazelle with a smile.

"She came to see me when I was in a hospital in Indiana. At that time I was blind."

"Blind, sir?"

"Yes; but I see quite well now. Afterwards I met your sister on the street in Portland, and she spoke to me. I was very weak and miserable, for I had just been ill of a fever; but the sight of her bright face made me feel strong again."

Dotty's fingers closed around Major Lazelle's with a firmer clasp. If he liked Prudy, then she should certainly like him.

"Shall I tell you of some verses I repeated to myself when I looked at your dear little sister?"

"Yes, sir, if you please."

"'Why, a stranger, when he sees her In the street even, smileth stilly, Just as you would at a lily.

"'And if any painter drew her, He would paint her unaware, With the halo round her hair.'

"I dare say you do not understand poetry very well, Miss Alice?"

"No, sir. I s'pose I should if I knew what the words meant."

"Very likely. Is your sister Prudy well? and how do you two contrive to amuse yourselves all the day long?"

"Yes, sir, she's well; and we don't amuse ourselves at all."

"Indeed! But you play, I presume."

"Yes, sir, we do."

"I feel sure you are just such another dear little girl as Prudy is, and it gives me pleasure to know you."

Dotty dropped her head. She was glad her father was too far off to hear this remark.

"Just such another dear little girl as Prudy is!"

Alas! Dotty knew better than that. She was not sure she ought not to tell Major Lazelle he had made a great mistake. But while she was pondering upon it, they met a blind man, a lame man, and a party of school-girls; and she had so much use for her eyes that she did not speak again for five minutes.