Part 6 (2/2)

”Meek little Dandelion Groweth more fair, Till dies the amber dew Out of her hair.

High rides the thirsty sun, Fiercely and high; Faint little Dandelion Closeth her eye.

”Pale little Dandelion In her white shroud, Heareth the angel breeze Call from the cloud.

Fairy plumes fluttering Make no delay; Little winged Dandelion Soareth away.”

This night was spent at Albany; and, as the evening closed with a little adventure I will tell you about it; and that will be all that it is necessary to relate of Dotty's journey.

Mr. Parlin, Major Lazelle, and our heroine were sitting, after their late tea, in a private parlor. It was time Dotty was asleep but, while she was waiting for her papa, Major Lazelle held her on his knee. Mr.

Parlin was writing letters, and did not listen to the conversation going on between his little daughter and her friend. They commenced by talking about Zip. Dotty said he knew as much as a boy.

”I did think once he was my brother. And now I'm glad I didn't have a real brother; for if he _had_ been, p'rhaps he'd have burned up our house with a cracker.”

”So you think little girls are nicer than little boys?”

”O, yes, sir; don't you?”

Dotty spoke as if there could be no doubt about it.

”I like good little girls,” said Major Lazelle, ”such as can ride a whole day in the cars without growing cross.”

This compliment gratified Dotty. She felt that she deserved it, for she had kept her temper admirably ever since she left home.

”I am sure you will grow up, one of these days, to be a very good woman,” continued Major Lazelle, looking with an admiring smile at the graceful little girl seated on his knee. ”You tell me you have never been at school. I hope you do not mean to frolic all your life? What were little girls made for, do you think?”

Dotty reflected a moment.

”What are little girls made for, sir? Why, they are made to play, 'cause they can't play when they grow to be ladies.”

The major laughed.

”Pretty well said! You're rather too shrewd for such an 'old mustache'

as I. So little girls are made to play? Then suppose we two have a game.

Let us play chip-chop.”

Dotty was becoming sleepy, but aroused herself, and patted her little soft hands as hard as she could, tossing them hither and thither, sometimes. .h.i.tting her companion's thumb, sometimes his little finger.

Major Lazelle laughed, and then she laughed too; for when he tried to strike her hands, he said it was like aiming at a pair of rose-leaves fluttering in the air.

The chip-chop was a complete failure; but it had set them both in great glee. If truth be told, they became excessively rude.

”Now, sir,” said Dotty, as they ran across the room, playing a game of romps, ”if you do catch me again, I'll--O, dear, I don't know what I'll do!”

Mr. Parlin looked up from his letter a little annoyed, for the floor was shaking so that he could scarcely write.

”Do not be rude, my daughter,” said he, though he knew very well the major was really the one to be chided.

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