Part 16 (1/2)

”O dear, dear, I wish the doctor would get Harry well.”

”Poh!” said Horace, ”the doctors they have East ain't no 'count, are they, though, Gracie?”

”Of course they don't know so much as Dr. De Bruler,” replied Grace, very decidedly.

”I'll tell you how they make doctors,” spoke up little Prudy; ”they take a man and put him in a bear's buffalo coat, and that makes a doctor.”

”And a gig,” said Horace, ”and some sharp things, and lots of little bottles.”

”What children!” said Grace, looking down upon them with a lofty smile. ”Why, Prudy, what _have_ you got in your pocket?”

”O, I don't know,” said Prudy, throwing her hands behind her.

”_Goodness_ won't hurt me, will it, Susy?”

”I guess _you_ ain't good enough to hurt.”

”Well, grandma says not to eat green apples,” said the child, ”but she'd be willing I could chew 'em and get the _good_ all out--don't you s'pose she would?”

”I don't know, I'm sure,” replied Susy; ”you must ask.”

”Well, I never teased for any. Horace gave 'em to me, and I shan't swallow 'em.”

”O, what a little snipe,” cried Grace, laughing, ”your pocket is stuffed so full it's going to burst open, and you'll be sick again, now you see!”

”Sick?” repeated Prudy, looking frightened, for she did not forget her severe illness; ”then I'll throw 'em away. I don't love such sour things anyhow. I was only _hung-buggin_'.”

And Prudy went down the wooden stairs which led from the trees, and walked slowly towards the house, dropping the green apples one by one into the gra.s.s.

At the kitchen door she met her aunt Madge, who was in tears.

”O auntie,” said she, ”I'm going to wash my hands spandy clean, and then are you willing there is any thing I can have to eat?”

”Cookies, if you like, my dear.”

”O auntie,” cried Prudy, eager with a new thought, ”won't you tell me where them raisins is--the ones you didn't put in the pudding? Tell me, O, do, do! If you will, I won't touch 'em, true as the world.”

”Then why do you want to know where they are?” said aunt Madge, a faint smile flitting across her face and then dying out again.

”O, 'cause,” said Prudy, ”then I can tell Susy, and _she_ can get 'em!”

”You can each of you have a handful,” said aunt Madge, reaching down the box. ”You may have some, for I know you wouldn't take them without leave, and Susy wouldn't either, you funny child!”

”Now,” said she, putting the raisins in Prudy's ap.r.o.n, ”I want you to go out of doors and keep very still.”

”Why do you cry so, my dearest auntie in the world?” said Prudy, climbing into a chair, and throwing her arms around her auntie's neck, while the raisins dropped to the floor; ”is Mr. 'Gustus Allen dead?”

”No,” said aunt Madge, hugging little Prudy as if she was good for the heartache, ”the baby is a _great deal worse_, darling! Tell the children I will send them some dinner up in the trees, and don't let Horace come into the house. You know he means to keep still, but his boots make so much noise.”

Prudy gathered up the raisins, and went out quietly, her happy little face looking very sober. But the ”bird-child” could not be sad long at a time, and she had hardly climbed the steps into the trees, and given away the cl.u.s.ters of raisins, before the sick baby was almost forgotten.