Part 9 (1/2)
By the time the sail-boat came up to the wherry, the children were thoroughly drenched and sobered. A more subdued set of little sailors the captain had never seen.
”Well, now,” said he, patting the little girls on the head, ”I had a fine lecture made up for you crazy chickens; but you are all so meek, that I reckon I'll just take you on board, and not scold you till I get you ash.o.r.e.”
It was the narrowest escape! and they all knew it. The ”foolish chickens” hid their heads, and made mental resolves that they would never, never venture out of sight of land again without some older person to take care of them.
”Don't you tell my father, now,” said Johnny to Dotty, as they went home, dripping like a pair of sea-bathers.
”Nor don't you tell mine, nor Susy, nor Prudy, neither.”
”We shall have to make up some kind of a story,” added Johnny, reflectively. ”I don't know but we reached over too far after sea-sh.e.l.ls, didn't we, and fell into the bay? _You_ did (say), and I got in after you, and pulled you out by your hair.”
”Why, Johnny!”
”Well, then, you didn't; _I_ fell in, and you pulled _me_ out--by the boots; only my boots would have come off, though, they're so big!”
”O, Johnny Eastman!”
Dotty had stopped short in the road, and was looking at her cousin with an expression of mingled pity and scorn.
”Then make up something better to suit yourself.”
”I don't make up stories, I just hope I don't,” returned Dotty, squeezing the skirt of her dress indignantly.
”But,” said Johnny, ”they'll know it wasn't all rain-water.”
”Then I shall tell the whole, whole truth,” exclaimed Miss Dimple, setting her feet down so firmly that the water made a gurgling noise in her boots. ”I'll tell how you boys teased us girls to go.”
”O, ho, Dot Dimple! that's as much of a story as pulling out by the hair! _I_ didn't want you to go. I tried to stop it.”
”Yes, I know it, and that was why I went,” said Dotty, gravely! ”I wasn't going to have you say I mus'n't! If you'd been _willing_, I shouldn't have gone a step.”
By this time they had reached Mr. Eastman's gate.
”You tell if you dare!” said Johnny. And, after that, Dotty never thought any longer of trying to conceal a single item of their remarkable adventure. Since Johnny had dared her, she would _certainly_ tell.
CHAPTER VII.
TELLING OF IT.
Dotty saw her father through the window. She had not supposed it was dinner-time. Her head, which she had just been tossing so proudly, was suddenly lowered, and she entered the house with ”faint-footed fear,”
and stole noiselessly up stairs, leaving wet tracks on the elegant carpet. She did not wish to meet her father while she was in such a plight.
”O, Prudy!” she called out, ”something has happened!”
But Prudy was not within hearing. Angeline had given her permission to peel the potatoes for dinner, and she was now in the kitchen, quite unconscious of her little sister's forlorn situation. Hatless Johnny had crept around by the back door, and put himself under the care of Jane, the chambermaid. Janey was very kind-hearted, and withal a little weak-minded. She had often helped Johnny out of his predicaments, receiving in return plenty of kisses and sugar-plums.
But who was going to help Dotty? She did not know where to look for dry garments; for, since her mother went away, her own clothes, and those of her two sisters, had been tossed together in sad confusion. She did not like to go to Susy, for Susy would probably scold; and Dotty, just now, was so uncomfortable, and her nerves had been so terribly racked, that she thought she could bear anything better than to be blamed.