"That's the street I turn to go to my house--isn't it, Lina?" asked
she, quickly.

"I shan't tell you, Dotty Dimple. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I'm going home. I'm sick. Good by."

"But you musn't go a step, Dotty Dimple."

"Yes, I shall; you're not my mamma, Lina Rosenberg; you mustn't tell me
what to do."

"Well, I'm going everywhere you go, Dotty, but I shan't say whether it's
the way to your house, or the way to Boston; and _you_ don't know."

Dotty was not to be so easily baffled.

"I don't know myself, Lina Rosenberg, but if you're so mean as not to
tell, I can ask somebody else that _will_ tell--don't you see?"

This was a difficulty which Lina had not provided for. She was very sorry
Dotty had come out "to breathe."

Very soon they overtook a lady, who pointed out the right street to
Dotty; and it was in an opposite direction from the one she was taking.

"Now I've found out, Miss Rosenberg, and you can't help yourself."

"Well, I shall go with you, Dotty, just the same. I shall go right up to