While Mrs. Fixfax was making her room ready for the little housekeepers, Aunt Madge went to her own chamber, and locked up her best dresses, and most valuable possessions. The children watched her with some curiosity.

"Are you afraid of burgalers, auntie?" asked Dotty. "Because, if you are, we shan't dare stay here."

"No, Dotty. I only thought, if you should play keep house, it might be rather amusing to come in here, and dress up in some of my old finery. You are welcome to whatever you can find, for I have locked up all that is worth much."

"O, you darling auntie, won't that be splendid? Now we shan't feel half so sorry about your going away."

"Sorry!" said Mrs. Allen, with a mischievous smile. "You are so delighted you don't know what to do."

"There, auntie, that isn't fair," laughed Prudy, "when we've been trying our best to cry. But somehow, how can we, when Uncle Augustus isn't very sick, and you're coming right back? But what made me laugh just now, was looking at that ruffled pillow-case, and thinking what a splendid cap it would make for an old lady, tied down with black ribbon!"

"A pretty uproar we shall find when we get back, Miss Prudy; but I am prepared for that. Only promise one thing—keep that baby in the house. Flyaway, darling, will you remember not to go out of doors?"

"Yes, um, I'll 'member," replied Fly, winking her eyes solemnly. She had expected, till the last minute, to go with her auntie.

"There is one thing I regret. If Mrs. Brooks and Maria come, they will be very much disappointed. Tell them I'll try to attend to them the day but one after Christmas. And now, good by, children. You know you're as dear to me as the apple of my eye. Do take good care of yourselves, and be good."

"The apple of your eye appears to be split in four quarters, auntie," remarked Horace; and on the strength of that joke, Mrs. Allen started on her journey to Trenton.

"Now I suppose I'm to be the head of the family," said Prudy, with a majestic air.

"We are the two heads, if you please, mum," said Horace, striking an attitude.

"What am I, then?" asked Dotty.

"You? The foot. You must run and tend."

"H'm!"

"What am I?" asked Fly.

"Why, the little finger, pet. All you have to do is to curl up in one corner."

"H'm!" responded Fly, looking at Dotty's solemn face, and trying to draw her own down to exactly the same length.

"Pretty well, I should think," said Dotty, as soon as her injured feelings would allow her to speak. "What have I done to be put down to the bottom of the foot?"

"But you know, little sister, one woman has to manage a house; and I am older than you."

"But you can't make a bit better gingerbread, Prudy Parlin! If I've got to be your hired girl, I won't play."

"So I wouldn't," said Horace. "I'd show 'em what I thought of such actions."

Upon this there was a little whirlwind, which spun Dotty out of the room before you could count two.

"They stand very high in their own self-esteem. He's a hero, she a hero-ess! They think I like to be laughed at. She said it only took one woman to manage a house; but she never made any fuss when Horace spoke up, and wanted to help. It's me that can't manage—just because it's me. Who wants Horace for the head of the family? He don't know more'n the head of a pin! When'd ever he make ginger-bread?"

By this time Dotty had reached her own room in a tumult of rage.

"Prudy wouldn't 'low three heads to it, I s'pose? O, no; for then I could be one! If I was a great boy, with a silver watch, that wasn't her own sister, she'd let me! Yes, if I had five heads, she wouldn't have said a word."

Dotty paced the floor restlessly, with her hands behind her.

"I shan't go back. Let 'em keep their old house. I can keep house my own self up in this room—wish I'd brought Fly—she's too good for 'em. Wish I hadn't come to New York to be imposed upon."

As Dotty was crossing and recrossing the room, her eye fell on one of the illuminated cards on the wall, printed in red and gold, and wreathed with delicate lilies of the valley—"God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble."

The angry child stopped short.

"Who put that there? What did auntie mean? She meant me. Everybody means me. I wouldn't have thought that of auntie."

Dotty turned away; but the words followed her across the room like the eyes of a portrait.

"'God resisteth the proud.' Well, who said I was proud? People are so queer! Always think it's me wants the best things. 'Giveth grace to the humble.' There, I s'pose that means Prudy. She's just as humble! Never wants to take the best parts when we play. O, no; Prudy's humble? Prudy's a hero-ess!'"

But scold as she might, those burning red words were looking right down into Dotty's soul. Though she shut her eyes, there they were still. "'God resisteth the proud.' Am I proud?—Yes. Does God resisteth me?—Yes, for the Bible can't lie. What is resisteth? Something that makes you feel bad, prob'ly. That's why I can't be happy. I won't be proud another minute."

Dotty winked fast, set her teeth together, pinched her neck, and swallowed.

"There, it's going down my throat like a pill,—its gone! Am I proud any more? No—for I really don't s'pose I can make gingerbread quite so well as Prudy! I never made any but once, and then Norah took it out of the oven and put in the ginger and molasses. No, I'm not proud. I don't want to keep house. I shouldn't know how. It would be very much better to go back and behave, for I can't stay here without being lonesome."

Dotty looked again at the red and gold text. "How different it seems to me now I'm humble! People needn't be proud if they'd swallow it down like a pill."

Dotty's reasoning was rather mixed; still it is worthy of notice, that she was doing a remarkable thing for her, as she slowly walked back to her auntie's room.

But all this while Prudy, too, had been suffering. She could never bear to have her young sister angry, and, if it had not been for Horace, would have gone to her with all sorts of promises—anything for peace.

"She's an outrageous little tyrant, Prue. She ought to have a sound whipping."

"O, Horace," said Prudy, quite shocked; "she can't help her temper; she has to be humored."

"Poh! that's just what ails her! Been humored to death."

"But, Horace, can't we change our play, somehow? It never will do for me to try to order her about."

"Nonsense, Prue! But if you're going to be so fussy, you might keep boarding-house, and have her for lady boarder."

Prudy's brow cleared.

"Just what'll suit her, Horace! A lady boarder is so fashionable,—like the one they had at Mrs. Penny's,—always washing out laces. Now I'll go tell Dotty."

Just then Miss Dimple appeared at the door with an uncertain smile.

"I—I—thought—"

"O, how kind of you to come back to us, my Lady Magnifico!" cried Horace, bowing himself double. "Your landlady was afraid you objected to your boarding-place."

"You see," said Prudy, eagerly, "we are making believe I keep boarders. I've 'seen better days,' or something of that kind, as they say in story-books—O, seems to me my husband died."

"Yes; I saw his death in the papers," said Dotty, briskly; "so you don't want me for your hired girl—do you?"

Then she thought, "How glad I am I came back! It's always better to be humble!" and added aloud, with a fine-lady drawl,—

"No, mim; it's not the style I've been subject to. I was necessiated to leave you, mim, because I can't eat out of anything but gold teaspoons."

"That sounds so like Mrs. Pitkin Smith!" said Prudy, laughing. "She used to board at Mrs. Penny's, Horace. Come, let's go and dress in our costumes. I'll be Mother Hubbard; and Horace, you go into uncle's dressing-room and see what you can find."