CHAPTER II.
A SAD STORY.
After dinner, Mrs. Parlin was seated on the lounge in the nursery,looking very sad. Raising her eyes, she saw Dotty standing before her,twisting a corner of her apron. The child had entered as quietly as herown shadow, and her mother had not heard a footfall.
"My dear little girl, I am going to tell you a story."
"Yes, 'm."
Dotty looked steadily at her finger-nails.
"A true story about a child who let her temper run away with her."
"Yes, 'm," replied Dotty again, giving her mother a view of her rosyright ear.
Mrs. Parlin saw that Dotty was very much ashamed. Her face did not lookas it had looked in the early morning. Then
"There was a hardness in her eye, There was a hardness in her cheek:"
now she appeared as if she would be very much obliged to the nurseryfloor if it would open like a trap-door and let her fall through, out ofeverybody's sight.
"The little girl I am going to tell you about, Dotty, lived in thisstate. Her name was Harriet Snow. Her father and mother were both dead.She had occasional fits of temper, which were very dreadful indeed. Atsuch times she would hop up and down and scream."
Dotty tied the two corners of her apron into a hard knot. The story wasrather too personal.
"Was the little girl pretty?" said she, trying to change the subject.
"Not very pretty, I think. Her skin was dark; her eyes were black, andremarkably bright. When I saw her, she was thirteen years old; and youmay know, Dotty, that by that time her face could not well be verypleasant: temper always leaves its marks."
Dotty looked at her little plump hands, as if she expected to see blackspots on them.
"Sometimes Harriet beat her head against the wall so violently thatthere seemed to be danger of her dashing her brains out."
Dotty looked up quite bravely. This dreadful little girl was worse than_she_ had ever been! O, yes!
"Wasn't she crazy, mamma?"
Mrs. Parlin shook her head.
"No, I am afraid not, dear. Only, when she allowed anger to stay in herheart, it made her feel blind and dizzy. Perhaps she was crazy for thetime."
Dotty hung her head again. She remembered how blind and dizzy sheherself had felt while screaming at Norah that morning.
"This little girl had no mother to warn her against indulging hertemper. When she had the feeling of hate swelling at her heart, nobodytold her what it was like. _You_ know what it is like, Dotty?"
Dotty's chin drooped, and rested in the hollow of her neck.
"I don't want to tell you, mamma."
"Like _murder_, my child."
Dotty shuddered, though she had known this before. Her mother had oftenread to her from the Bible, that "whosoever hateth his brother is amurderer."
"Well, there was no one to love this poor Harriet; she was not lovable."
"No, 'm, she was _hateable_!" remarked Dotty, anxious to say something;for if she held her peace, she was afraid her mother would think she wasapplying the story to herself.
"There was no one to love her; so a woman took her, and was paid for itby the town."
"Town? Town, mamma? A _town_ is _houses_."
"She was paid for it by men in the town. I don't know whether this womantried to teach Harriet in the right way or not. It may be she had somuch to do that she thought it less trouble to punish her when she wasnaughty than to instruct her how to be good."
"O, yes; I s'pose she struck her with a stick," said Dotty, patting herforefingers together--"just this way."
"Harriet had the care of one of Mrs. Gray's children, a lively littleboy about two years old."
"Was he cunning? As cunning as Katie Clifford? Did he say, 'If you loveme, you give me hunnerd dollars; and I go buy me 'tick o' canny'?"
"Very likely he was quite as cunning as Katie. You would hardly thinkany one could get out of patience with such a little creature--wouldyou, my daughter?"
"No, indeed!" cried Dotty, eagerly, and feeling that she was on safeground, for she loved babies dearly, and was always patient with them.
"I don't know but Harriet was envious of Mrs. Gray's little boy, becausehe had nicer things to eat than she had."
"Well, it ought to have nicer things, mamma, 'cause it hadn't anyteeth."
"And she got tired of running after him."
"No matter if she did get tired, mamma; the baby was tireder than shewas!"
"And the parents think now it is very likely she was in the habit ofstriking him when nobody knew it."
"What a naughty, wicked, awful girl!" cried Dotty, her eyes flashing.
"She had a fiery temper, my child, and had never learned to control it."
Dotty looked at her feet in silence.
"The baby was afraid of his little nurse; but he could not speak to tellhow he was abused; all he could do was to cry when he was left withHarriet. But one day Mrs. Gray was obliged to go away to see her sickmother. She charged Harriet to take good care of little Freddy, and givehim some baked apples and milk if he was hungry."
"With bread in?" suggested Dotty.
"Yes, I suppose so. Then she kissed her baby. He put his arms around herneck, and cried to go too; but she could not take him."
"I s'pose he cried 'cause he 'xpected that awful girl was a-going toshake him," said Dotty, indignantly.
"I cannot tell you precisely what Harriet did to him; but when thefather and mother got home, that darling boy was moaning in great pain.They sent for the doctor, who said his spine was injured, and perhaps hewould never walk again; and, indeed, he never did."
"O, mamma! mamma Parlin!"
"Yes, my child; and it is supposed that Harriet must have hurt him inone of her fits of rage."
Dotty's face had grown very white.
"O, mamma, what did the folks do with Harriet?"
"They took her to court, and tried her for abusing the little boy. Theycould not prove that she was really guilty, though everybody believedshe was."
"I know what 'guilty' means, mamma; it means _hung_."
"No, dear; if she hurt the baby she was guilty, whether she was punishedfor it or not."
"Well, she did it, I just know she did it!" exclaimed Dotty, greatlyexcited. "That little tinty boy!"
"The judge pitied her for her youth and ignorance; so did the twelve mencalled the 'jury;' and she was allowed to go free."
"Then did she 'buse somebody's else's baby, mamma?"
"I hope not. The last I heard of her she was married to a negrofiddler."
"O!"
"Do you know why I have told you this sad story, my little daughter?"
"'Cause, 'cause--Harriet beat her head against the door, and hurt ababy, and--and--married black folks!"
Dotty was very pale, and there was a tear in her voice; still her mothercould not be sure that her words had made much impression. She wasafraid her long story had been "love's labor lost."
But I believe it had not been. Not entirely, at least. Dotty thought ofHarriet all the afternoon, and walked about the house with a demurenessquite unusual.
"O, Prudy!" said she, when they two were alone in the parlor, lookingover a book of engravings, "I'm going to tell you something; 'twillmake you scream right out loud, and your hair stick up!"
"I'M GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING." Page 34.]
"Don't," laughed Prudy, "I've just brushed my hair."
"Once there was a girl, Prudy, lived in this state; and mother thinksshe was just like me. But she wasn't, truly. She was homely; and herhair was black; and her mother was dead. The woman spatted her with astick where she lived. And she didn't love the baby any at all, 'causehe had nicer things, you know; and I guess white sugar and verserves. Soshe stuck a _spine_ into him--only think! In his crib! So he neverwalked ever again! And his father and mother were gone away, and toldher to give him baked apples and milk--with bread in!"
"Why, that can't be true, Dotty Parlin!"
"Yes, _i
ndeed_! Certain true, black and blue. Guess my mother knows!"
"What!" said Prudy, "just for baked apples and milk?"
"Yes. Her name was Harriet."
"What did you say she did it with, Dotty?"
"Mamma said a _spine_. They took her to the court-house; but they didn'thang her, 'cause she--I've forgot what--but they didn't. They made hermarry a black man--that's all I know!"
"Well, there, how queer!" said Prudy, drawing a long breath. "If I wasHarriet I'd rather have been hung. Was he all black?"
"Yes, solid black. But I s'pose she didn't want to choke to death anymore'n you do."
"Dotty," said Prudy, with a meaning in her tone, "what do you supposemade mamma tell you that story?"
"I don't know."
Dotty looked deeply dejected.
"Little sister," continued Prudy, taking advantage of the child'ssoftened mood, "don't you wish you didn't let yourself be so angry?"
"Yes, I do, so there!" was the quick and earnest reply.
Prudy was astonished. It was the first time this proud sister had everacknowledged herself wrong.
"Then, Dotty, what if you try to be good, and see how 'twill seem?"
"Won't you tell anybody, Prudy?"
"No, never."
"Well, I _will_ be good! I can swallow it down if I want to."
Observe what faith the child had in herself!
Prudy clapped her hands.
"There, don't you talk any more," added Miss Dimple, with a sudden senseof shame, and a desire to conceal her emotions. "Let's make pictures onthe slate."
Prudy was ready for anything; her heart was very light. She was too wiseto remind Dotty of her new resolution; but she kept a journal, and thatevening there was a precious item to make in it.
I think, by the way, that Prudy's habit of keeping a journal was anexcellent thing. She learned by the means to express her thoughts withsome degree of clearness, and it was also an improvement to herhandwriting.
"_July 2d._ My sister Dotty thinks, certain, positive, she _will_ be a good girl; and this is the day she begins. But I shall not tell anybody, for I promised, 'No, never.'
"My mother told her about a girl that almost killed a dear little boy because they asked her to give him baked apples and milk. I heard my father say to my mother that he thought the story pierced Dotty like _a two-leg-ged_ sword. So I don't think she will ever get angry again. Finis."
Prudy always added the word "Finis" at the close of her remarks eachday, considering it a very good ending.