Matters were soon set right with Mrs. Gray, who was sorry she had not spoken frankly to Mrs. Parlin in the first place, instead of going secretly to the neighbors and complaining that she did not receive her due allowance of milk. Perhaps it was a good lesson for the doctor's wife; for she ceased to gossip about the Parlins, and even took the pains to correct the wrong story with regard to the pearl breastpin.

After this Dotty and Katie carried the milk as usual; only they never stopped under the acorn tree any more to play "King and Queen." Not that Dotty felt much shame. She held herself in high esteem. She knew she had done wrong, but thought that by telling the truth so nobly she had atoned for all.

"I am almost as good as the little girls in the Sunday school books," said she; "now there's Jennie Vance—I'm afraid she fibs."

Jennie called one day to ask Dotty and Flyaway to go to school with her.

"Jennie," said Miss Dimple, gravely, as they were walking with Katie between them, "do they ever read the Bible to you?"

"Yes; why?"

"O, nothing; only you don't act as if you know anything about it."

"I guess my mother is one of the first ladies in this town, Miss Dimple, and she's told me the story of Joseph's coat till I know it by heart."

"Well," said Dotty, looking very solemn, "it hasn't done you any good, Jennie Vance. Now, I learn verses every Sunday, and one is this: 'Lie not one to another.' What think of that?"

Jennie's black eyes snapped. "I heard that before ever you did."

"Lie not one to another," repeated Dotty, slowly. "Now, I'm one, Jennie, and you're another; and isn't it wicked when we tell the leastest speck of a fib?"

"Of course 'tis," was the prompt reply; "but I don't tell 'em."

"O, Jennie, who told your step-mother that Charlie Gray was tied up in a meal-bag? I'm afraid," said Dotty, laying her hand solemnly on little Katie's head as if it had been a pulpit-cushion, and she a minister preaching,—"I'm afraid, Jennie, you lie one to another."

"One to anudder," echoed Katie, breaking away and running after a toad. Jennie knitted her brows. "It doesn't look very well for such a small child as you are to preach to me, Dot Parlin!"

"But I always tell the white truth myself, Jennie, because God hears me. Do you think much about God?"

"No, I don't know as I do; nobody does, He's so far off," said Jennie, stooping to pluck an innocent flower.

"Why, Jennie, He isn't far off at all! He's everywhere, and here too. He holds this world, and all the people, right in His arms; right in His arms, just as if 'twas nothing but a baby."

Dotty's tones were low and earnest.

"Who told you so?" said Jennie.

"My mamma; and she says we couldn't move nor breathe without Him not a minute."

"There, I did then!" cried Jennie, taking a long breath; "I breathed way down ever so far, and I did it myself."

"O, but God let you."

Dotty felt very good and wise, and as she had finished giving her benighted friend a lesson, she thought she would speak now of every day matters.

"Look at those little puddles in the road," said she; "don't they make you think of pudding-sauce—molasses and cream, I mean—for hasty-pudding?"

"No," said Jennie, tossing her head, "I never saw any pudding-sauce that looked a speck like that dirty stuff! Besides, we don't use molasses at our house; rich folks never do; nobody but poor folks."

"O, what a story!" said Dotty, coloring. "I guess you have molasses gingerbread, if your father is the judge!"

Dotty was very much wounded. This was not the first time her little friend had referred to her own superior wealth. "Dear, dear! Wasn't it bad enough to have to wear Prudy's old clothes, when Jennie had new ones and no big sister? She's always telling hints about people's being poor! Why, my papa isn't much poor, only he don't buy me gold rings and silk dresses, and my mamma wouldn't let me wear 'em if he did; so there!"

By the time they reached the school-house, Dotty was almost too angry to speak. They took their seats with Katie between them (when she was not under their feet or in their laps), and looked over in the Testament. The large scholars "up in the back seats," and in fact all but the very small ones, were in the habit of reading aloud two verses each. This morning it was the nineteenth chapter of Matthew, and Dotty paid little heed till her ear was caught by these words, read quite slowly and clearly by Abby Grant:—

"Then said Jesus unto his disciples, Verily I say unto you, that a rich man shall hardly enter the kingdom of heaven.

"And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God."

Dolly's heart gave a great bound. That meant Judge Vance just as sure as the world. Wasn't he rich, and didn't Jennie boast of it as if it was a great thing? She touched her friend's arm, and pointed with her small forefinger to the passage; but Jennie did not understand.

"It isn't my turn," whispered she; "what are you nudging me for?"

"Don't you see your papa isn't going to heaven?" said Dotty. "God won't let him in, because he's rich."

"I don't believe it," said Jennie quite unmoved.

"O, but God won't, for the Bible says so. He can't get in any more than a camel can get into a needle; and you know a camel can't."

"But the needle can go into a camel," said Jennie, thoughtfully; "perhaps that's what it means."

"O, no," whispered Dotty. "I know better'n that. I'm very sorry your papa is rich."

"But he isn't so very rich," said Jennie, looking sober.

"You always said he was," said Dotty, with a little triumph.

"Well, he isn't rich enough for that! He's only rich a little mite,—just a little teenty tonty mite," added Jennie, as she looked at Dotty's earnest face, and saw the rare tear gathering on her eyelashes.

"But my father isn't rich the least bit of a speck," said Dotty, with a sudden joy. "Nobody ever said he was. Not so rich, at any rate, Jennie, but you could put it through a needle. You could put it through a needle just as easy."

Jennie felt very humble—a strange thing for her. This was a new way of looking at things.

"Of course he'll go to heaven, you know," said Dotty; "there's no trouble about that."

"I s'pose he will," sighed Jennie, looking at her beautiful gold ring with less pleasure than usual. She had been in the habit of twirling it about her finger, and telling the little girls it was made of real "carrot gold." But just at this moment she didn't care so much about it; and it even seemed to her that Dotty's little hand looked very nice and white without any rings. Perhaps people had not admired the glitter of her forefinger so very much, after all. How did she know but they had said, "Look at Judge Vance's little daughter. Isn't she ashamed to wear that ring when it's a sign her father is rich, and can't go to heaven?" The child began to wish there would come holes in her father's pockets and let out the money; for she supposed he kept it all in his pockets, of course.

"I shall tell my mother about it," mused she; "and I don't believe but she'll laugh and say, 'That Dotty Dimple is a very queer child.'"

But just at this time little Katie began to peep into Jennie's pockets for "candy-seeds" (that is, sugared spices), and to behave in many ways so badly that Miss Prince said she must be taken home. So the girls led her out between them; and that was the last Jennie thought of the camel. But Dotty remembered it all the way home.