"Of course I must take the best things," said Dotty; "for I'm to have the best part."

So she chose a blue poplin dress, a pink sash, a scarlet bow, and a green pin. The dress was half a yard too long, and she caught it up in front with some artificial flowers she found in a box. Her head she surmounted with an old chignon, which bobbed back and forth, as she walked, like a pedler's pack.

"O, see, Prudy," said she; "here is auntie's jewel cabinet. What cunning little sliding drawers!"

"Don't open it; don't touch it, Dotty. I saw auntie look it up in her safe once; but I suppose she took it out again to get her watch."

"No, she didn't; here's her watch," said Dotty, swinging open one of the little drawers.

"That's her other watch, Dotty. She says it needs mending."

"Then I'm going to wear it; it is just as good for a lady boarder, as a whole one."

"Don't, Dotty; that's the watch Uncle Augustus gave her when they were married, and she thinks the world of it."

"Well, he gave her the other one too—didn't he?"

"Yes; last Christmas: don't you know how she found it in an orange?"

"O, I remember. And she ought to think the most of that one, Prudy, because she loves him better now than she did when he gave her this one; ever so much better."

"It's of no consequence to you if she does, or if she doesn't, Dotty Dimple. What right have you with that cabinet, I should like to know? Shut it right up this minute. O please do, Dotty."

Dotty's contrary spirit began to rise. She opened every one of the drawers, and poured out the glittering jewels. Of course Fly was on the spot in a twinkling; but Prudy caught her, and playfully pinned her little arms down to her sides; so her prying fingers had no chance to do mischief.

"Didn't auntie tell us to dress up in her old finery?" said Dotty, thrusting the watch into her girdle.

"Old finery, Dotty Dimple!"

"And isn't this old? 'You're welcome to whatever you can find;' that was just the words she said, Prudy Parlin."

"O, how many ways there are for people to do wrong if they want to!" cried Prudy, in despair. "When you do get started, Dotty—Will you, or will you not, put up those things? If you don't, it's my duty to call Horace, and—"

"'Fore I'd be a tell-tale!" said Dotty, slipping off half a dozen rings in haste. "There, I won't wear but just two—one on each thumb. Who wants the old watch? Tick's all out of it. You don't know, Prudy, how tight those rings fit. I could wear 'em on my forefinger, but I shan't, you make such a fuss."

Prudy answered by a look of unutterable contempt.

"I suppose," said she, speaking with a vehemence quite unusual to her—"I suppose you know auntie's jewels are worth more money than father has in the world! If you lose one of them, I don't know who's going to pay for it; that's all."

Dotty looked amazed, but answered coolly,—

"Of course I always knew that! Auntie has about as nice things as the governor's wife."

She was sure she was very humble, since swallowing her pride like a pill; but somehow she was determined not to take off those rings.

"Prudy needn't speak so sharp to me! I didn't care about wearing 'em in the first place; but now I'll do it to show her what's the use to preach!"

Prudy, having done her duty, said no more, but proceeded to look over her auntie's wardrobe in search of a dress.

"I s'pose she thinks I'm the awfulest girl," mused Dotty, fluttering in and out of the closet. "I s'pose she's thinking about that rag-bag last summer—how Jennie Vance no business to take those three dollars out of the saddle-bag pockets! Grandma said, 'You're welcome to all you can find.' Well, but that didn't mean for Jennie to steal! Prudy needn't go to thinking this is the same kind of a thing, for it isn't. I guess stealing is pretty different from borrowing."

Dotty viewed herself in the glass with secret satisfaction. She really looked like a Fourth of July fantastic; but we do not see ourselves as others see us.

"She won't be the least help to me about the house," thought Prudy, with a feeling of envy. "I shall have every single thing to do; and I declare I don't know what to get for dinner."

She chose the worst looking wrapper her aunt's wardrobe afforded, and a gingham apron with pockets. Quite good enough for a woman keeping house without a servant. And as she had decided to call herself Mother Hubbard, she made an ample cap, by folding a "pillow-sham," and putting two of its ruffled edges around her face for a double border. Then, with green spectacles at her nose, a bunch of keys at her waist, and a pair of high-heeled slippers on her feet, she went to the door, and called for Fly.

"Fly! Why, isn't she in there?" responded Horace, appearing on the landing, "You didn't think I had her with me—did you?"

As Prudy wisely remarked, "How many ways there are for people to do wrong if they want to!"

Seeing her betters disagree, little Fly had taken her turn at pouting.

"They don't say nuffin' 'bout fixin' me up. Goin' to let me go to the party in my old clo'es? Wisht auntie'd tookened me with her. Might just's well not! Might a' worn soft slippers, and not 'sturbed Uncle 'Gustus!" Fly wafted herself to the top of the bureau, and gazed down on the girls in stern displeasure. But she might as well have scowled at empty air, for no notice was taken of her. Dotty was giving an extra touch to her chignon, and Prudy trying on her cap. "Hark! What's that?"

It was the street-cry away off in the backyard—"Fine fresh oranges."

"Guess I'll go see what's the matter with that man," thought Miss Fly. "Guess he's got hurted."

She slid down from the bureau, and stole softly out of the room backward; but her feet made no more sound on the carpet than the fall of a rose-leaf, and neither of the girls looked up.

"For course I shan't go ou'doors, 'cause I solomon promised I wouldn't," said she, pattering down the basement stairs.

The fact was, she had no idea any one would let her go. But it so happened that thoughtless Rachel was the one who unlocked the basement door, and it was an easy thing to slip out behind her.

"'Cause I spect she'll send me ri' back."

But when Rachel looked around, and saw the pretty child with her fair hair blowing wild, she only laughed and went on gossiping with the orange boy. She saw no harm in letting Fly hop about the pavement on one foot sucking oranges, till she herself felt chilled by the keen wind; then she drew the little girl into the house, and shut the door against the snow-storm, saying,—

"Why, how happened you out here, little Miss Fly?"

"She sawed me the whole time; she ought to sended me in," thought Fly, dancing up and down to shake off the snow. "Twasn't me was naughty; 'twas the rest the folks. They didn't pay no 'tention where I went to."

But though she pretended to herself that she had done no wrong, she did not wish to be found out, and crept very softly up stairs, even as far as the cupola, and looked out of the windows with all her might.

"Cold room up here, athout no fire," thought she, by and by, with a shiver; and just then she heard the girls calling.

"Here I is," a voice replied, far up the height; and down ran Fly in a trice.

"You haven't been 'up attic' all this time, Topknot?"

"Well, you ought to paid 'tention where I's going to," returned Fly, sharply. "Nobody knows what I'll do next—auntie said there didn't!"

Horace laughed. "Come, fix her up, girls; she's my baby."

"I thought you were the 'Man in the Moon,'" said Mother Hubbard, "and he isn't married."

"I've been a widower some time," sighed Horace, laying his hand on the left pocket of his blue swallow-tail coat.

His costume was as droll as the girls'; for Uncle Augustus, who had figured the week before in some private tableaux, had a full Brother Jonathan suit.

"The man in the Moon, if you please, Mother Hubbard, come down to inquire the way to Norridge."

"Ah! I'm afraid you've 'come down too soon.' Didn't you forget your whiskers?"

Horace rubbed his upper lip thoughtfully. "Will you inform me, ma'am, where I can get a boarding-place? I'm sort of turned round. Growing place. Last time I was down, there were only a few houses here; now it's pretty thick settled back of the meeting-house."

"I'll take you," said Mother Hubbard, putting her handkerchief to her face. "How would my dog feel if he knew I had come to this!"

"Come to what, ma'am?"

"Why, to New York, to take boarders."

"Are you in indigenous circumstances, madam? And have you seen the first society? If so, I may possibly conclude to come too," said Dotty, sweeping forward, and losing a hair-pin out of her chignon.

"O, what a fascinating creature!" said the Man in the Moon, making an eye-glass of his thumb and forefinger, and gazing at the lady boarder. "Are you a widow, ma'am?"

"Well, they don't say nuffin' 'bout fixin' me up! Guess I shan't go to the party!" exclaimed Fly, opening and closing her eyes in token of outraged dignity.

Prudy took her into auntie's room, and proceeded at once to robe her in her own night-dress, with a lace night-cap, and a cologne-mat for a bib.

"Hollis didn't say for me to be such a long baby," sniffled Fly, trying in vain to clear her feet from the trailing skirt.

"This is your slip, dear. You're only a baby—musn't try to walk."

"Then my papa must carry me down stairs," said Fly, entering into the spirit of the play. "You tell him so—I can't tell him, for I can't talk. Argoo-goo. My teeth haven't camed."

"If you please, Master Clifford," said Nathaniel, appearing at the head of the stairs. Then he stopped short with surprise, hardly knowing the children in their strange attire; but being too dignified to laugh aloud, added, with a grim smile,—

"The woman that brought Miss Fly home the other day is down in the dining-room, and says,'Can she see one of the family?'"

"A little girl with her, Nat?"

"Yes, sir; the blind girl is with her."

"And the freckled doggie!" asked "the long baby," suddenly raising her head from her father's shoulder. "I meant to told 'em to bringed that doggie."

"Let's all go down and see," said Mother Hubbard.

When they entered the dining-room, Mrs. Brooks started up in dismay. She had left her sick husband, and come a long distance through the storm, only to find Mrs. Allen gone, and a parcel of children decked out like circus-riders. It seemed like a cruel mockery.

"Beg pardon," said she. "Maria, we'll go home now."

Maria was sitting near her mother, trying to force back the tears which would find their way through her closed eyes.

"You poor dear girl," said Mother Hubbard, going up to her, and taking her hand. "My auntie was so sorry to go off to-day, just when you were coming! but she had to, for Uncle Augustus is sick. And it looks funny to you—I mean to your mother—to see us dressed up this way; but auntie said we might, just to keep us from being so lonesome. And Mrs. Brooks, she wants you to call again the day after the day after to-morrow. She thinks she'll be home then."

"Yes'm," struck in my Lady Magnifico! "She thinks she'll come then with Uncle 'Gustus. He isn't much sick. If he was going to die, we wouldn't dress up so, certainly."

"No," replied Mrs. Brooks, smiling. "It's just as well; my Maria must have patience; that's all."

"Patience!" thought Maria; "haven't I had it, and had it?—But I do suppose God will attend to me when He thinks best. Is this what they call waiting on the Lord?"

"When you come nex' time, I hope you'll bring that doggie," said Fly.

Then they went away, and the last thing Maria listened to was Fly's melodious voice; and the last thing Fly looked at was Mrs. Brooks's nose moving up and down.