Mother Hubbard was heated, and tired, and hungry, and cross. It was all very well for a lady boarder to loll on an ottoman, play with her rings, and find fault. It was all very well for a gentleman boarder to fire poor jokes; but they couldn't either of them know how every word cut like a lash. When the doctor said, carelessly, "Some people think themselves great cooks, my lady; but the proof of the pudding's in the eating," why, that speech was "the pin in the end of the lash."

Prudy saw now that she had pretended to know a great deal more than she really did. Pretension is very apt to get laughed at. She had always scorned Dotty's self-conceit; but hadn't she shown quite as much herself? Making her auntie suppose she understood cooking, and putting Mrs. Fixfax to all this trouble for nothing? How horrified auntie would be, and the housekeeper too, if they should dream that this little family was starving, with a cook-book lying open on the floor!

"But I declare, it's real mean in you two to make fun of me," cried the young landlady, tipping the sugar-basin plump into the dish-tub; "you couldn't get any better supper yourselves, nor half so good; so there!"

Surprised at the sharp sound of her own voice, dismayed at sight of the wet sugar, and completely discouraged by the aspect of things in general, Prudy burst out into a sort of frenzy. She was ashamed of herself, but she couldn't stop.

"You think I can bear everything—you and Dotty both! People are careful what they say to Dotty, for her temper's just like live coals; but they talk to me, and say anything; anything they've a mind to."

"Why, Prue," exclaimed Horace, as astonished as if Mother Hubbard's dog had spoken; "why, Prue!"

"Yes, you think it's awful if I speak; but sometimes it seems as if I should bite my tongue out."

"Don't, Prudy," exclaimed Dotty, looking on with awe and alarm, as if there had been a sudden eclipse of the sun; "I didn't mean to."

"Don't Prudy," said Fly, clutching at the brown dress; "and I'll give you sumpin what I buy."

There is an old saying, "Beware the fury of a patient man." Prudy had tried all day to

but now she could scarcely bear the touch of little Fly's hand. She did not care what she said, if she could only find words bitter enough.

"I always have to bear, and bear, and bear. Nobody else does. I've noticed how different it is with Susy. She frets, and then people let her alone. And Dotty, how she tosses up her head like Aunt Martha's horse Lightning-Dodger! Haven't I always pacified Dotty, and humored her? Had to alter the play to suit her. And what does that child know or care, any more than if I was a common sister, that hadn't been giving up, and giving up, and giving up, ever since she was born?"

Prudy's cap-strings shook violently, her teeth chattered, and the sharp words seemed to rattle out like hail-stones. Horace had never seen her in such a mood, and was half inclined to run away; but when she took her hands down from her face, and he saw how pale she was, his heart was moved.

"Come, Prue, you're sick abed; that's what's the matter. Lie down, and let that lazy Dot take off her diamonds, and go to work."

Prudy dropped upon the sofa and covered her face with her handkerchief, while Dotty, strange to relate, actually slid the rings off her fingers and thumbs, and began to put away the crackers.

"O, dear," thought Prudy, blushing under the cap-border, spectacles, and handkerchief; "what did possess me to talk so? I had been holding in all day; why did I let go? If I ever do let go, I can't stop; and O, how shameful it is!"

It seemed as easy for Prudy to be good as for a bird to sing; but it was not so. She had a great deal of human nature, after all. She liked her own way, but she never had it unless Dotty was willing. Was that a pleasant way to live? If you think so, dears, just try it. The secret of Prudy's sweetness was really this: In all trials she was continually saying, under breath, "Please, God, keep me from doing wrong." She had found that was really the only way—the only safe way.

"Everybody calls me amiable. They wouldn't if they knew how I have to grit my teeth together to keep from scolding. I like to be called amiable, but nobody'll do it again; and Horace sees now I'm not the girl he thought I was."

All Prudy's hail-stones of wrath had melted into tear-drops, and she was sobbing them into her handkerchief. She did not clearly know whether she was crying because she had done wrong, or because Horace would see she "was not the girl he had thought she was."

"Bless your dear little soul," said Dr. Moonshine, kneeling before her, while his blue swallow-tails swept the floor, "you've told the truth. Everybody knows Dot's a spitfire, and you're an angel; and she does impose upon you most abominably."

Dotty stood staring, with a plate in her hand, too much astonished to defend herself.

"And I'm ashamed of firing so many jokes at you, Prue; I am so. I'm a great joker (he meant a great wit!), but this is the first time I ever mistrusted you cared—you always take things so like a lamb,—or you'd better believe I wouldn't have done it. For there isn't a girl in the world I like so well as I do you, nor begin to."

"O, Hollis," moaned the little one, stirred by sudden jealousy.

"Hullelo! I forgot you, Topknot.—You're my heart's jewel; that's generally understood. When I say I like Prue, I mean next after you."

The jealous Fly was satisfied, and folded her little wings against Horace's breast. Prudy felt greatly soothed, but her cap-strings were still shaking, and she could not trust her voice to speak. Nothing more was said for some time. Dotty clattered away at the dishes, kitty purred by the stove, and Horace rocked his little sister, who clung about his neck like an everlasting pea. Presently he stopped rocking, and exclaimed,—

"Why, what's the matter with my Toddlekins? What makes her breathe so short?"

"My froat's short; that's what is it," replied the little philosopher, closing her eyes, as if she did not choose to talk.

"But how does your throat feel, Topknot?"

"Feels bad; why?"

"Girls, this child has a sore throat, and a high fever. Her hands are as hot as pepper."

Dotty wrung the dish-cloth tragically.

"She's going to have the measles; you see'f she don't."

"Hush!" said Prudy, springing up, and tucking back her sleeves. "Let's give her a warm bath. That's what mother does when we are sick, before ever she sends for the doctor."

"I'd ravver have a turkey-wash," said Fly, rousing a little, and then dropping her head again.

"There, she's lost her senses; I knew she would," said Dotty, walking the floor.

"Do stop that, Dot. She has her senses as clear as you have. When she says turkey-wash, she means a Turkish bath; it takes me to interpret. She had a very gentle Turkish bath once. Liked it—didn't you, Fly? Can't you rub her real hard with a crash towel, girls? That will be almost as good."

"Of course we can," said Prudy, forgetting her gust of indignation entirely; "and what could be nicer than this little bathroom, with the silver faucets and ivory tub. Come, Fly, and have your turkey-wash. 'Twill make you feel a great deal better."

After a nice bath, at which Prudy and Dotty presided, the little one was dressed in her nightie, and set on her brother's knee again.

"Prudy said I'd feel better to be baved," said she, looking thoughtfully at the gas-light; "but now I was baved, and I don't feel any diffunt; I feel just's I did by-fore."

"When can she have taken such a cold?" said Horace; "don't you see, Prue, she can't breathe out of her nose?"

Then Fly remembered the orange-man, and something made her face grow red in a minute; but it was not the white tea.

"Pitiful about my signess," sighed she, and thought she would never, never tell of her own disobedience. But Horace saw the blush and heard the sigh.

"I am glad Fly always minds," said he, looking straight into the little guilty face. "For God sees everything she does," whispered he, solemnly.

Horace never spoke of such subjects to other people; you would not suppose they were much in his mind; but to this precious little sister he gave his best thoughts, so far as he could make her understand them.

"For God sees everything she does."

Fly did not speak for as much as a minute, and then she said, timidly,—

"Hollis, I want to ask you sumpin; does God wear spetticles?"

"No, dear; no, indeed."

"O, I thought He did."

"But He sees us in the light and in the dark, Topknot."

The child winced.

"Can He see Hisself athout looking in the glass?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Then, when I go up to God, I'll find He has four eyes,—two to see Hisself, and two to see other things. O, dear, I'm so sick, I guess I will go up to God."

The housekeeper was listening from the next room.

"That child's voice is growing hoarse. I must go and look into this business," thought she.

She knocked at the children's door.

"I came to ask if I can do anything for you, young ladies."

Mrs. Fixfax had heard a great deal of the play, and had been in a state of amusement all day, without seeing the actors; and when she caught sight of them now, she had to twist her mouth very hard, "to keep her teeth in."

The magnificent Lady Magnifico, the ridiculous Dr. Moonshine, and the becapped Mother Hubbard, all replied in chorus, "O, yes'm, we were going to ring for you. Do you see what ails the baby."

Mrs. Fixfax approached the child in such a tender, motherly way, that Horace was ashamed of having compared her face to "a platter of cold hash." She had a strong, sensible look, as if she were capable of carrying a whole hospital full of children through all sorts of diseases; and Prudy and Horace, who had begun to have an unpleasant feeling of responsibility, were greatly relieved.

"You don't think it's anything but a cold—do you, Mrs. Fixfax? I don't know much about sickness."

Mrs. Fixfax allowed herself to smile this time, as her eye rested on the Mother Hubbard cap.

"No, I don't see anything alarming yet. If this was my child, I should just gargle her throat with salt and water, wrap a pork rind round her neck, and put her to bed."

Fly objected to nothing, if she could only sleep with her own brother Hollis. When told she might do so, she tried to clap her hands; but her heart was heavy, and her throat was sore; so all she could do was to kiss him and cry.

"And now, my dears, how do you enjoy housekeeping?" asked Mrs. Fixfax, carelessly, as she attended to Fly's throat.

"No—ot very much," returned Dr. Moonshine, faintly; for no one else seemed ready to speak. "Rather hard on the head of the family. Don't you say so, Prue?"

But Prudy could not answer, on account of a throbbing at the roots of her tongue.

"I see you have been taking an early dinner," contined Mrs. Fixfax, very coolly, as if she had no idea the children before her were half starved.

"Ye—es'm."

"So, perhaps you wouldn't object to going down and finishing off on roast turkey? I ordered the table set for you."

"You did? O, thank you, ma'am!" cried Lady Magnifico, ready to throw herself on the housekeeper's neck.

"I never object to roast turkey myself," said the doctor, his eyes gleaming with delight.

Mother Hubbard said nothing; but she thought she should relish a good dinner as well as her boarders. They all went down but Fly, who was by this time fast asleep in Mrs. Fixfax's arms.

"I reckon the servants thought we'd been wrecked on a desert island, by the dash we made at that turkey," whispered Horace, as they returned to the housekeeper's room.

"How good you were, Horace Clifford, not to tell Mrs. Fixfax about my awful cooking."

"And I didn't tell, either," said Dotty. "But wasn't it mizzerble?"

As if Mrs. Fixfax didn't know, and wasn't that very minute laughing over the "tight biscuit" and low-spirited cake!