Dotty opened the door before she knew it. "O, mamma, mamma!" cried she,
rushing into her mother's arms.

"Why, Dotty, you darling child, where did you come from?" exclaimed Mrs.
Parlin, in great surprise, kissing the little, dirty girl, and taking her
right to her heart, in spite of the coal-dust.

"If you'll let me stay at home," gasped Dotty, "if you'll _let_ me stay
at home, I'll live in the kitchen, and won't go near the table."

"Where _did you_ come from?" said Mr. Parlin, kissing a clean place on
Dotty's black face, and laughing under his breath.

"I came through the cellar window, papa."

"Through the cellar window, child?"

"Yes, papa; I didn't s'pose you'd care!"

"Care! My dear, your mother is the one to care! Just look at your
stockings!"

"There was coal there, thrown in," said Dotty, with a quivering lip;
"and I had to walk over it, and under it, and through it."

"Was my little daughter afraid to come in by the door?"

"I didn't know's you wanted me, papa.