CHAPTER IV.
"PIGEON PIE POSTPONED."
This is Susy's letter, which lay in Mr. Parlin's pocket-book,and which he gave his impatient little daughter fifteen minutes beforethe cars stopped:--
"MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER: This is for you to read when you have almost got to Boston; and it is a story, because I know you will be tired.
"Once there was a wolf--I've forgotten what his name was. At the same time there were some men, and they were monks. Monks have their heads shaved. They found this wolf. They didn't see why he wouldn't make as good a monk as anybody. They tied him and then they wanted him to say his prayers, patter, patter, all in Latin.
"He opened his mouth, and then they thought it was coming; but what do you think? All he said was, 'Lamb! lamb!' And he looked where the woods were.
"So they couldn't make a monk of him, because he wanted to eat lambs, and he wouldn't say his prayers.
"Mother read that to me out of a blue book.
"Good by, darling. From "SISTER SUSY."
"What do you think of that?" said Mr. Parlin, as he finished reading theletter aloud.
"It is so queer, papa. I don't think those monkeys were very bright."
"Monks, my child."
"O, I thought you said monkeys."
"No, monks are men--Catholics."
"Well, if they were men, I should think they'd know a wolf couldn't sayhis prayers. But I s'pose it isn't true."
"No, indeed. It is a fable, written to show that it is of no use toexpect people to do things which they have not the power to do. The wolfcould catch lambs, but he could not learn his letters. So my littleAlice can dress dollies, but she does not know how to take care ofbabies."
"O, papa, I didn't choke him _very_ much."
"I was only telling you I do not think you at all to blame. Little girlslike you are not expected to have judgment like grown women. If you onlydo the best you know how, it is all that should be required of you."
Dotty's face emerged from the cloud. She looked away down the aisle atMrs. Lovejoy, who was patting the uninteresting baby to sleep.
"Well," thought she, her self-esteem reviving, "I wish that woman onlycould know I wasn't to blame! I don't believe _she_ could have take careof that baby when she was six years old."
"Here we are at Boston," said Mr. Parlin. "Is your hat tied on? Keepclose to me, and don't be afraid of the crowd."
Dotty was not in the least afraid. She was not like Prudy, who, on thesame journey, had clung tremblingly to her father at every change ofcars. In Dotty's case there was more danger of her being reckless thantoo timid.
They went to a hotel. Mr. Parlin's business would detain him an hour ortwo, he said; after that he would take his little daughter to walk onthe Common; and next morning, bright and early, they would proceed ontheir journey.
It was the first time Dotty had ever dined at a public house. A bill offare was something entirely new to her. She wondered how it happenedthat the Boston printers knew what the people in that hotel were aboutto have for dinner.
Mr. Parlin looked with amusement at the demure little lady beside him.Not a sign of curiosity did she betray, except to gaze around her withkeen eyes, which saw everything, even to the pattern of the napkins.Some time she would have questions to ask, but not now.
"And what would you like for dinner, Alice?"
Mr. Parlin said this as they were sipping their soup. Dotty glanced atthe small table before them, which offered scarcely anything butsalt-cellars and castors, and then at the paper her father held in hishand. She was about to reply that she would wait till the table wasready; but as there was one man seated opposite her, and anotherstanding at the back of her chair, she merely said,--
"I don't know, papa."
"A-la-mode beef; fricasseed chicken; Calcutta curry," read hermischievous father from the bill, as fast as he could read; "macaroni;salsify; flummery; sirup of cream. You see it is hard to make a choice,dear. Escaloped oysters; pigeon pie postponed."
"I'll take some of that, papa," broke in Dotty.
"What, dear?"
"Some of the pigeon pie 'sponed," answered Dotty, in a low voice,determined to come to a decision of some sort. It was not likely to makemuch difference what she should choose, when everything was alikewonderful and strange.
"Pigeon pie postponed," said Mr. Parlin to the man at the back ofDotty's chair; "turkey with oysters for me."
The polite waiter smiled so broadly that he showed two long rows ofwhite teeth. It could not be Dotty who amused him. Her conduct was allthat is prim and proper. She sat beside her papa as motionless as awaxen baby, her eyes rolling right and left, as if they were jerked by asecret wire. It certainly could not have been Dotty. Then what was itthe man saw which was funny?
"Only one pigeon pie in the house, sir," said he, trying to look verysolemn, "and if the young lady will be pleased to wait, I'll bring itto her in a few minutes. No such dish on any of the other bills of fare.A rarity for this special day, sir. Anything else, miss, while youwait?"
Mr. Parlin looked rather surprised. There had been no good reason givenfor not bringing the pie at once; however, he merely asked Dotty tochoose again; and this time she chose "tomato steak," at a venture.
There were two gentlemen at the opposite side of the table, and one ofthem watched Dotty with interest.
"Her mother has taken great pains with her," he thought; "she handlesher knife and fork very well. Where have I seen that child before?"
While he was still calling to mind the faces of various little girls ofhis acquaintance, and trying to remember which face belonged to Dotty,the waiter arrived with the "pigeon pie postponed." He had chosen thetime when most of the people had finished their first course, and theclinking of dishes was not quite so hurried as it had been a littlewhile before. The table at which Mr. Parlin sat was nearly in the centreof the room. As the waiter approached with the pie, the same amused lookpassed over his face once more.
He set the dish upon the table near Mr. Parlin, who proceeded to cut apiece for Miss Dimple. As the knife went into the pie, the crust seemedto move; and lo, "when the pie was opened," out flew a pigeon alive andwell!
The bird at first hopped about the table in a frightened way, a littleblind and dizzy from being shut up in such a dark prison; but a fewbreaths of fresh air revived him, and he flew merrily around the room,to the surprise and amusement of the guests. It was a minute or twobefore any of them understood what it meant. Then they began to laughand say they knew why the pie was "postponed:" it was because the pigeonwas not willing to be eaten alive.
It passed as a capital joke; but I doubt if Dotty Dimple appreciated it.She looked at the hollow crust, and then at the purple-crested dove, andthought a hotel dinner was even more peculiar than she had supposed. Didthey have "live pies" every day? How did they bake them without evenscorching the pigeons? But she busied herself with her nuts and raisins,and asked no questions.
At four o'clock she went with, her father to see the Public Gardens andother places of interest, and to buy a pair of new gloves. On theCommon they met one of the gentlemen who had sat opposite them atdinner. He bowed as they were passing, and said, with a smile,--
"Can this be my little friend, Miss Prudy Parlin?"
"It is her younger sister, Alice," replied her father.
"And I am Major Benjamin Lazelle, of St. Louis," said the gentleman.
After this introduction, the three walked along in company, and seemedto feel like old acquaintances; for Major Lazelle had once escorted Mrs.Clifford on a journey to Maine, and since that time had been well knownto the Clifford family. Mr. Parlin was glad to learn that he would startfor St. Louis on the next day, and travel with himself and daughternearly as far as they went. Major Lazelle was also well pleased, andbegan at once to make friends with Miss Dimple. The little girl hadrecovered from her trials of the morning, and was so delighted w
ith allshe saw that she "couldn't walk on two feet." She preferred to hop,skip, and jump.
"O, papa, papa, what _are_ those little dears, just the color of my kidgloves?"
"Those are deer, my child."
"Are they? I _said_ they were dears--didn't I? If they were _my_ dears,I'd keep them in a parlor, and let them lie on a silk quilt with avelvet pillow--wouldn't you?"
"This little girl reminds me strikingly of my old friend Prudy," saidMajor Lazelle, taking her hand. "When I saw her across the table Ithought, 'Ah, now, there is a sweet little child who makes me remembersomething pleasant.' After a while I knew what that pleasant thingwas--it was little Prudy."
Dotty looked up at Major Lazelle with a smile.
"She came to see me when I was in a hospital in Indiana. At that time Iwas blind."
"Blind, sir?"
"Yes; but I see quite well now. Afterwards I met your sister on thestreet in Portland, and she spoke to me. I was very weak and miserable,for I had just been ill of a fever; but the sight of her bright facemade me feel strong again."
Dotty's fingers closed around Major Lazelle's with a firmer clasp. If heliked Prudy, then she should certainly like him.
"Shall I tell you of some verses I repeated to myself when I looked atyour dear little sister?"
"Yes, sir, if you please."
"'Why, a stranger, when he sees her In the street even, smileth stilly, Just as you would at a lily.
"'And if any painter drew her, He would paint her unaware, With the halo round her hair.'
"I dare say you do not understand poetry very well, Miss Alice?"
"No, sir. I s'pose I should if I knew what the words meant."
"Very likely. Is your sister Prudy well? and how do you two contrive toamuse yourselves all the day long?"
"Yes, sir, she's well; and we don't amuse ourselves at all."
"Indeed! But you play, I presume."
"Yes, sir, we do."
"I feel sure you are just such another dear little girl as Prudy is,and it gives me pleasure to know you."
Dotty dropped her head. She was glad her father was too far off to hearthis remark.
"Just such another dear little girl as Prudy is!"
Alas! Dotty knew better than that. She was not sure she ought not totell Major Lazelle he had made a great mistake. But while she waspondering upon it, they met a blind man, a lame man, and a party ofschool-girls; and she had so much use for her eyes that she did notspeak again for five minutes.