entered with Dotty, she looked up from her work with a frown.

"Who've you brought home with you this time, Mandoline Rosenberg?" said
she. "Take off your hat and hang it over them tommatuses; but mind yer
don't drop it into that dish of lard."

"Mother," pleaded Mandoline, "we want to go up chamber to see my pretty
things; her mother sent her a-purpose."

"No, she didn't; no such a thing! You're a master hand to pick up
children and fetch 'em home here, and then crawl out of it by lying!
Besides, you've got to knit. I must have those socks done by to-morrow
noon, Mandy, or I'll know the reason why."

As Mrs. Rosenberg spoke, she pushed a waiter full of seeds under the
stove as if she hated the very sight of them; and when she stood up
again, Dotty observed that her dirty calico dress did not come anywhere
near the tops of her calf-skin shoes.

"But, mother," said Mandoline, with a winning smile, "this is Dotty
Dimple, the little girl that gave me the needle-book."

This was partly true. Dotty had given Mandoline an old needle-book; but
it had been in return for some maple sugar, which the little Jewess had
pilfered from her father's store.

"Dotty Dimple, is it?" said Mrs. Rosenberg, with a sharp look at the
little guest.

"I don't know now any better than I did before. That's a name for a