And off went the two little girls, with beaming faces, trying to make themselves useful.

"What shall I do?" thought Prudy, for every body was at work,--even Horace, who was turning the grindstone for the men.

"I'll dust the parlors, that's what I'll do. It does take aunt Madge so long."

So, with the big feather duster, Prudy made a great stir among the books and ornaments, and at last knocked over a little pitcher and broke its nose.

"You little meddlesome thing," cried aunt Louise, as soon as she knew it, "this is one of your _days_, I should think!"

"I didn't mean to," cried the child; "I was trying to help."

"Don't say you didn't mean to; you hadn't any business to touch the duster. I shall have to snip your fingers, I do believe."

"Don't," begged the child, "_I'll_ snip my hands, _you_ needn't; _I'll_ snip my hands and get the naughty out."

"They ought to be snipped from now till next Christmas," said aunt Louise, laughing in spite of herself to see the little one set to work with thumb and finger, trying to do her own punishing. "There, there, go off, and be a good girl."

Prudy's bright spirits rose again at these words, and she thought she would keep on trying to make herself useful. It was aunt Madge she wanted to help--good aunt Madge, who was so busy cooking for the gypsy supper.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRUDY DUSTING.]

"I'll feed her bird," thought the child; "he sings as if he was hungry."

Now aunt Madge had fed little Daffy before sunrise, and he was as yellow and happy as a canary can be. But silly little Prudy trotted off after a piece of sponge cake, climbed into a chair, opened the cage door, and swung the cake before his eyes.

Of course Daffy flew out, and one might suppose that was the last of him; but it so happened that the windows were not up.

Prudy ran, in great fright, to tell aunt Madge, and when she opened the door, the cat got in; and such a time as there was, you may imagine. Kitty rushed for the canary, aunt Louise rushed for the kitty, and aunt Madge for the bird. At last, Daffy was caught, and safe in his little home, with only the loss of a few tiny feathers.

"I'd give that child one sound whipping," said aunt Louise.

"Let Madge attend to her," replied grandma; "she will do right, for she knows how to keep her temper."

Louise said nothing, but she felt the rebuke; and as she left the room, there was a bright color in her cheeks.

"Prudy," said aunt Madge, gently, "you didn't mean to open the cage door, did you?"

Prudy remembered that she had been scolded before for saying "I didn't mean to."

"Yes'm, I did," replied she, in a choked voice, "I meant to do it a-purpose."

"I'm really astonished," cried aunt Madge, raising both hands. "Then it's surely my duty to punish you."

"You may," sobbed Prudy. "You may shut me up, and not let me have no dinner, 'cause I ain't hungry. I've been eatin' cake!"

"I think," said aunt Madge, "it would be a better punishment to keep you home from the party."

"O," cried Prudy, eagerly, "wouldn't you rather snip my hands? You can snip 'em with a piece o' whalebone, you know, and switch me all over with a switch, and do _every thing_ to me, if you'll only let me go to the party!"

"I'm afraid you'll forget, unless you're kept at home, Prudy."

"O, no, no; I'll promise truly I won't try to help again, never, never in my world."

"Were you trying to help when you let out the bird?"

"Yes'm, I was. He was singin' for somethin' to eat."

"O, I begin to understand," said aunt Madge, laughing heartily. "So you didn't mean to be a naughty girl after all. I am very glad of that, Prudy, for I couldn't tell what to make of you. But you must never touch the cage again. Little girls that want to _help_, must ask somebody to tell them what to do. There, now, kiss me, dear, and I'll forgive you, and we won't say any more about your being naughty, if you'll only remember next time."

Prudy laughed, and twinkled off the tears. She was what aunt Madge called a "bird-child," and was never unhappy but a little while at a time.

CHAPTER XIII

THE GYPSY SUPPER

After a great, great while, it was afternoon, and the children went up to the Pines, carrying a small market basket half full of nice things.

I don't know which felt most at home in those woods, the birds or the children. It wasn't at all like having a party in a parlor, where there are chairs and rugs in the way; and where you can't run and jump without being afraid of hurting something. No, there wasn't any danger of scratching the varnish off the trees, nor any danger of soiling the soft carpet of the earth.

And if there hadn't been a party, it was enough to make any body happy only to breathe the sweet air, and look away down at the white village, and away off at the blue hills.

Dr. Gray's daughter Ruth, a girl of fourteen, was to have the care of Prudy; and at first she followed the child about like her shadow.

"You dear little pet," said she, "don't walk so fast. There, now, my sweet dovey, let me take your hand."

Prudy looked down at her copper-toed shoes with something like a pout, and slowly gave her hand to the young girl.

"Now, you're a little pink of a dear," said Ruth. "Let's see," added she, feeling anxious to say something, for she thought Prudy would want to be amused, "do you love your aunt Madge any? _I_ think she's very good and nice."

"Yes'm," said Prudy, "I've kissed her so much that I love her a good deal."

"Well, I declare," laughed Ruth, "that's a new way of learning to love any body! I guess people call you a funny little monkey, don't they?"

"No'm, they don't," replied Prudy, drawing away a little, "they think I'm as cunning as I can be."

"O, my! I know a little girl that thinks pretty well of herself. Ah, here comes Dedy Roberts; does my little love know Dedy?"

"Yes'm, I went to see her once; she lives in a dreadful _ragged_ house!"

"Well, you two little lammies can sit right down here and pick flowers, and if you find a strawberry I'll give you a cent."

"As if we was babies," thought the little girls, for they were wise enough to know that strawberries were gone long ago.

"I don't like her," said Prudy to Dedy, when Ruth had turned away; "she calls me names all the whole time. I guess she don't know my name is Prudy."