ever lived."

"Then why didn't she marry the best man?" asked Dotty, quickly.

"Who is that?"

"Why, Abraham Lincoln, of course." Prudy laughed.

"Yes; I suppose Mr. Lincoln was the best man that ever lived; but papa
comes next."

"Yes," said Dotty; "I think he does. And I'd rather have him for a father
than Mr. Lincoln, 'cause I'm better 'quainted with him. I shouldn't dare
kiss the President. And, besides that, he's dead."

"You're a funny girl, Dotty; but what you say is true. Everything happens
just right in this world."

"Does it?" said Dotty, wrinkling her brows anxiously; "does it,
now truly?"

"Yes, indeed, Dotty. Anybody wouldn't think so, but it does."

"Then I suppose it happens right for me to be a bad girl and run away."

"No, indeed, Dotty; because you can help it. Everything is right that we
_can't_ help; that's what I mean."

"Then I s'pose 'twas right for me to crawl through the cellar window,"
said Dotty; "for I'm sure I couldn't help it"