CHAPTER V.

  A SAD FRIGHT.

  But the next afternoon, as the two little girls were walking hometogether, Dotty said to Jennie, with a very wise face,--

  "Grandma has told me what the Bible means. Now I understand every singlething."

  Jennie did not seem as much delighted as had been expected.

  "She says God can get that camel through a needle."

  "O, I remember," said Jennie; "you mean that Bible camel."

  "There isn't anything He can't do," continued Dotty; "the richest men,richer than your father, can get to heaven if God's a mind to take 'em."

  "Not bad people," said Jennie, shaking her head.

  "I don't know about that; she didn't say," said Dotty, looking puzzled."O, no, I s'pose not. God wouldn't be a mind to. For don't you see,Jennie Vance, it's just _like_ a camel. There can't anybody go throughthemselves unless God _pulls_ 'em through."

  I don't know what Grandma Parlin would have thought if she had heard herwords chopped up in this way; but it made very little difference toJennie, who paid no attention at all.

  "You're father'll get there," added Dotty; "so I thought I'd tell you."

  "Your shoestring's untied," said Jennie, coolly.

  "And I don't care now if you are the richest," said Dotty, stooping totie the string; "for God loves me just as well when I wear Prudy's oldthings; and so do all the good people in this town, and the ministertoo; grandma said so. I don't care how much you talk about our oldDeacon, or our eating molasses. That isn't anything! Grandma says itsharder for rich children to be good, and I told her I was real glad Iwas half-poor."

  "You're stepping right in the mud," cried Jennie.

  "And then Grandma said that it didn't make any difference any way aboutthat, if I only loved God; but if I didn't love God, it did."

  "There," said Jennie, "I haven't heard half you've said; and I guessyou've forgotten all about going strawberrying."

  "I almost know grandma won't be willing," replied Dotty; "we've gotcompany, too; see those ladies in the window."

  "All the better," replied Jennie, cheerily. "You go in and behave asbeautifully as ever you can, and your grandma'll be so busy talking,she'll say yes before she thinks. That's the way my mamma does. Say'Crossman's orchard,' remember, but don't tell which one."

  So Jennie staid outside while Dotty entered the parlor softly, and stoodby her grandmother's chair, waiting the proper time to speak.

  "Strawberrying, did you say?" asked Mrs. Parlin, presently.

  "Yes, grandma; the berries are just as thick."

  "O, just as fick!" repeated Katie, clapping her hands.

  "In the Crossman orchard," added Dotty.

  "Prosser Horcher," put in Katie, choking a little at the large words."May her, gamma?"

  Now, Dotty knew, as her grandmother did not, that there were twoorchards; and the one she meant was a mile and a half away.

  "Yes, you may go, Alice; it is only a few steps; but put on an olddress, and don't stay late; you know you are hardly well since your sorethroat."

  Dotty had not actually told a wrong story, but for almost the first timeshe had deceived, and she knew the sin was the same. While she wasexchanging her pretty pink frock for one of dark calico, her consciencepricked so painfully that she almost wished to stay at home.

  "Just as soon as we get out of the village," said Jennie, "I'm goingbarefoot; mother said I might."

  "How splendid your mother is!" sighed Dotty. "Grandma's so particular!But any way I'm going without my stockings; I declare I will. Mythroat's so far away from my feet, what hurt will it do?"

  "Children, obey your parents," said the troublesome voice.

  "Grandma isn't my parent," thought Dotty, tugging away at herboot-lacings. They went out through the kitchen, to get Dotty's red andwhite picnic basket; but they crept like a pair of thieves, lest Ruthie,who was mixing waffles, should hear them, and take notice of Dotty'sbare ankles.

  Once out of the village, it did not take long for Miss Dimple to slipoff her boots and tuck them in her pocket.

  "O, how nice and cool!" murmured she, poking her little pink toes intothe burning sand; till presently, a thorn, which appeared to be waitingfor that very purpose, thrust its way deep into her foot. She sat downin the middle of the road and screamed. Jennie tried her best to drawout the thorn, but only succeeded in breaking it off. Then, with aclumsy pin, she made a voyage of discovery round and round in the softflesh of Dotty's foot, never hitting the thorn, or coming anywhere nearit.

  "O, dear!" said Jennie, petulantly; "we've wasted half an hour! What'sthe use for you to be always getting into trouble? A great many berrieswe shall have at this rate! and I was going to ask my mamma to let mehave a party."

  "There!" said Dotty, bravely, "I'm going right along now, and no morefuss about it."

  It was hard work; Dotty limped badly; and all the while the cruel thornwas triumphantly working its way farther in. The Crossman orchard wasnot very far away now; but when they had reached it, and had crept underthe fence, why, where were the strawberries? What the boys had notgathered they had trampled down; and the truth was, there had been veryfew in the first place. There was nothing to do but pluck here and therea stray berry, and make the most of it.

  "This is what I call a shame," sighed Jennie; "and look at the sky; it'sgrowing as black as a pickpocket."

  "Why, yes," moaned Dotty; "how fast that sun has gone down!"

  But this was a mistake. It was only six o'clock. The sun, understandinghis business perfectly, had not hurried one jot. The clouds were merelyspreading a dark background for some magnificent fireworks; in otherwords, a thunder-shower was coming up.

  "Let's go right straight home," said Jennie; and Dotty was glad to hearthe words, for in her own brave little heart she had determined not tobe the first to surrender.

  "Let's go across the fields," she replied; "it's the nearest way home."

  By this time heavy drops were pattering down on the long grass, andmaking a hollow sound on the little girls' hats.

  "Why, it's raining," remarked Dotty.

  "You don't say so," sniffed Jennie, whose temper was quite upset,"perhaps you think you're telling some news."

  Then came the frightful boom of thunder.

  "What's that?" whispered Dotty, with white lips. "I'm afraid, Jennie; Icertainly am."

  "For shame, Dotty Dimple! I thought you were the girl that knew allabout God and the Bible. I shouldn't think you'd be afraid of thunder!"

  "O, but I am!" was the meek reply. "I'm as afraid as I can live."

  "There, hush up, Dotty! When you've been and got us into a fix, you'dbetter keep still."

  "I, Jennie Vance? I never! What a story!"

  "You did, Miss Dimple; you spelt it out in the Reader,--'straw-bry;' orI shouldn't have thought of such a thing."

  "Well, I didn't care much about going, now truly, Jennie; for I don'tfeel very well."

  "You _seemed_ to be very much pleased. You said, 'How nice!' as much astwice; and didn't you almost laugh out loud in the spelling class? Hark!what a clap!"

  "I should think you'd be ashamed," said poor Dotty, hopping on one foot."When I laughed it was to see Charlie Gray make up faces. And should Ihave gone barefoot if it hadn't been for you?"

  "Well, there, Dotty Dimple, you're a smart little girl, I must say! Idon't mean to ask you to my party, if my mother lets me have one; andI've a great mind not to speak to you again as long as I live."

  "I shouldn't think you'd dare to quarrel, Jennie Vance, when you may diethe next minute. Let's get under this tree."

  "Lightning strikes trees, you goosie!"

  "O, Jennie Vance! isn't there a barn anywhere in this great pasture?"

  "Men don't keep barns in their pastures, Dot Dimple; and lightningstrikes barns too, quicker'n a flash!"

  Dotty covered her face with her hands.

  "You don't seem to know scarcely anything," continued Jennie,soothingly. "I don't believe you know wh
at a conductor is."

  "Of course I do. It's the man on the cars that takes your ticket."

  "No; that's one kind; but in storms like this a conductor is a--aconductor is a--why, I mean if a thing is a conductor, Dotty,--why thenthe thunder and lightning conducts it all to pieces, and that's the lastthere is of it! My father's got a book of _hijommerty_ that tells allabout such things. You can't know for certain. Just as likely as not,now, our baskets are conductors; and then again perhaps they are _non_;and I don't know which is the worst. If we were sure they were _eitherone_, we ought to throw 'em away! that's a fact!"

  "Yes, indeed!" cried Dotty, tossing hers behind her as if it had been aliving scorpion. "Do you s'pose _hats_ will conduct?"

  "Nonsense! no. I didn't say baskets would, did I?" returned Jennie, whostill held her own dangling from her arm. "Yours was a perfect beauty,Dot. What a fuss you make!"

  As Dotty had all this while been stifling her groans of pain, and hadalso been careful not to express a hundredth part of her real terror oflightning, she thought her friend's words were, to say the least, alittle severe.

  "Why, this is queer," cried Jennie, stopping short. "It's growing wethere; haven't you noticed it? Now I've thought of something. There's abog in this town, _somewhere_, so awful and deep that once a boy slumpedinto it, don't you think, up to his waist; and the more he tried to getout the more he couldn't; and there he was, slump, slump, and got in asfar as his neck. And he screamed till he was black and blue; and whenthey went to him there wasn't a bit of him out but the end of his nose,and he couldn't scream any more; so all they could do was to pull himout by the hair of his head."

  "Is that a true story, now, honest?" cried Dotty, wringing her hands."How dreadful, dreadful, dreadful! What shall we do?"

  "Do?" was the demure reply; "stand as stock-still as ever we can, andtry not to shake when we breathe. Next thing we might slump."

  "I do shake," said Dotty; "I can't help it."

  "Don't you say anything, Dotty Dimple. I never should have thought ofgoing across lots if you hadn't wanted to; and now you'd better keepstill."

  So even this horrid predicament was owing to Dotty; she was to blame foreverything. "Stock-still" they stood under the beating rain, theirhearts throbbing harder than the drops.

  Yes, there certainly was a bottomless pond--Dotty had heard of it; onits borders grew the pitcher-plant which Uncle Henry had brought homeonce. It was a green pitcher, very pretty, and if it had been glass itcould have been set on the table with maple molasses in it (only nobodybut poor people used molasses).

  O, there _was_ a deep, deep pond, and grass grew round it and in it; andUncle Henry had said it was no place for children; they could not betrusted to walk anywhere near it, for one false step might lead theminto danger. And now they had come to this very spot, this place ofunknown horrors! What should they do? Should they stand there and bestruck by lightning, or try to go on, and only sink deeper and deepertill they choked and drowned?

  Never in all Dotty's little life had she been in such a strait as this.She cried so loud that her voice was heard above the storm, in unearthlyshrieks. She didn't want to die! O, it was so nice to be alive! Shewould as lief have the sore throat all the time, if she might only bealive. She said not a word, but the thoughts flew through her mind likea flock of startled swallows,--not one after another, but all together;and so fast that they almost took her breath away.

  And O, such a naughty girl as she had been! Going barefoot! Telling astory about Crossman's orchard! Making believe she never fibbed, whenshe did the same thing as that, and she knew she did. Running off toplay when grandma wished her to stay with Flyaway. Feeding Zip Coon withplum cake to see him wag his tail, and never telling but it was brownbread. Getting angry with the chairs and tables, and people. Doing allmanner of wickednesses.

  Dotty was appalled by the thought of one sin in particular. Sheremembered that in repeating the Lord's prayer once, she had asked for"daily bread and butter." Her mother had reproved her for it, but shehad done the same thing again and again. By and by, when her motherpositively forbade her to say "butter," she had said "bread andmolasses;" "for, mamma," said she, "you know I don't like _bare_ bread."

  "I s'pose Miss Preston would say that was the awfulest wickedness ofall, and I guess it was. O, dear!"

  Well, if she ever got home she would be a better girl. But it wasn'tlikely she ever should get home.

  "Why, Jennie," said she, speaking now for the first time, "here we are;and when we stand still we don't move at all; we don't go home a bit,Jennie."

  "Of course not, Dotty Dimple; that's a very bright speech! I've thoughtthe same thought my own self before ever you did!"

  Another silence, broken only by the pitter patter of the rain; for thethunder was growing less and less frequent.

  "But we must go home some time," cried Jennie with energy. "If it killsus to death we must go home. Just you put your foot out, Dotty dear, andsee if it sinks way down, down. I thought it was beginning to grow alittle soft right here."

  "O, dear, I don't dare to!" groaned Dotty, shaking with a nervouschill; "you put your foot in your own self, Jennie Vance, and see whereit goes to. I don't want to slump down up to my hair any more'n you do.What do you s'pose!"

  "Fie! for shame, Dotty Dimple! I always thought you were a coward, andnow I know it! What if I should give you my ring, made of all carrotgold, would you do it then? Just nothing but put your foot out?"

  "_Would_ you give me the ring now, honest?" said Dotty, raising herlittle foot cautiously; "certain true?"

  "Why, you know, Dotty, if I said I would, I would."

  A sudden thought was darting across Dotty's mind, like another startledswallow; only this one came alone, and did not take her breath away; forit was a pleasant thought--Where were they? Whose field was this?

  Why, it was Mr. Gordon's pasture. And Johnny came here for the cow everynight of his life. And, as true as the world, there was the Gordon cownow, the red and white one, standing by the fence, lowing for Johnny.

  "A great deal of bottomless pond this is, and so I should think!" saidDotty to herself with a smile. "Where a cow can go I guess I can go withmy little feet. Soft? why, it isn't any softer than anybody's field isafter it rains."

  So, without saying a word, the little girl put her foot out, and ofcourse it touched solid earth.

  "There!" she cried, "I did it, I did it! You said I was a coward; andwho's a coward now? Where's your gold ring, Jennie Vance?"

  "Why, the ground is as hard as a nut, I declare," said Jennie, walkingalong after Dotty with great satisfaction. "I didn't much think therewas a swamp in this field all the time. Only I thought, if there was,what a scrape it would be! Come to think of it, I believe thatbottomless pond is in the town of Augusta."

  "No," replied Dotty, "it's on the other side of the river. I know, forUncle Henry went to it in a boat. But where's my ring?"

  "I don't know anything about your ring; didn't know you had any."

  "I mean _yours_, Jennie Vance; or it _was_ yours; the one on yourforefinger, with a red stone in it, that you said you'd give to me ifI'd put my foot in it."

  "Put your foot in what?"

  "Why, you know, Jennie Vance; in the mud."

  "Well, there wasn't any mud; 'twas as hard as a nut."

  "You know what I mean, Jennie," exclaimed Dotty, growing excited. "Soyou needn't pretend!"

  "I'm not pretending, nor any such a thing," replied Jennie, with a greatshow of candor; "it's you that are making up a story, Dotty Dimple. Ididn't say I'd give you my ring. No, ma'am; if 'twas the last words Iwas to speak, I never!"

  "O, Jennie Vance! Jane Sidney Vance! I should think the thunder andlightning would conduct you to pieces this minute; and a bear out of thewoods, and every thing else in this world. I never saw a little girl,that had a father named Judge, that would lie so one to another in allthe days of my life."

  "Well," said Jennie, coolly, "if you've got done your preaching, I'lltell y
ou what I said. I said, 'What if I should;' so there! I didn't sayI would, and I never meant to; and you may ask my father if I can get itoff my finger without sawing the bone in two."

  "Indeed!" replied Dotty, poising her head backward with queenly dignity;"indeed!"

  "I didn't tell a story," said Jennie, uneasily. "I should think anygoosie might know people wouldn't give away jewels just for putting yourfoot out."

  "It's just as well," said Dotty, with extreme dignity; "just _precisely_as well! I have one grandmamma who is a Quakeress, and she don't thinkmuch of little girls that wear rings. Ahem!"

  Jennie felt rather uncomfortable. She did not mind Dotty's anger, buther quiet contempt was another thing.

  "I think likely I may go to Boston next week," said she; "and if I do,this is the last time we shall go strawberrying together this summer."

  "O, is it?" said Dotty.

  After this the two little creatures trudged on in silence till theyreached Mr. Parlin's gate. Jennie ran home in great haste as soon as shewas free from her limping companion; and Dotty entered the side-doordripping like a naiad.

  "Why, Alice Parlin!" said grandmamma, in dismay; "how came you in such aplight? We never thought of you being out in this shower. We supposed,of course, you would go to Mrs. Gray's, and wait till it was over."

  "We were nowhere near Mr. Gray's," faltered Dotty, "nor anywhere else,either."

  "I should think you had been standing under a water-spout," said AuntLouise.

  "Grandma, can't you put her through the wringer?" asked Prudy, laughing.

  Dotty sank in a wet heap on the floor, and held up her ailing foot witha groan.

  "Why, child, barefoot?" cried Aunt Louise. Dotty said nothing, butfrowned with pain.

  "It is a cruel thorn," said her good grandmother, putting on herspectacles and surveying the wound.

  "Yes, 'm," said Dotty, finding her tongue. "I almost thought 'twould goclear through, and come out at the top of my foot."

  Katie took a peep. "No, it didn't," said she; "it hided."

  "There, there, poor little dear," said grandmother; "we'll put her rightto bed. Ruthie, don't you suppose you and I can carry her up stairs?"

  Not a word yet about the naughtiness; but plenty of pity and softpoultices for the wounded foot.

  "She's a very queer child," thought Ruth, coming down stairs afterwardsto steep hops for some beer; "a very odd child. She has something on hermind; but _we_ shan't be any the wiser till she gets ready to tell it."