"Fudge and me wants to be good," she said, penitently; "but we forgets.
P'rhaps if we were other folks, and our names were something else
'sides Tilderee and Fudge, we might be better."

"I'm afraid Fudge is a hard case," sighed her mother, restraining a
smile; "and I should not like to see my little girl changed into any
one else. But I expect we ought to call you as you were christened,
and that is Matilda. It is a saint's name, you know; and you can pray
to your name saint to help you."

The little lass was delighted to have the question settled in this
manner, and from that time strove to insist upon her proper title. But
it was not easy to drop the pet name, and Tilderee she was oftenest
called, till long after the date of this story. For several days she
tried very hard to be good; she said her prayers night and morning with
special earnestness, always closing with: "Please, God, take care of
Tilderee, and keep her and Fudge out of mischief."

Joan, on her part, endeavored to be more gentle with her little sister;
for, while every day she lamented the fate of the doll, she could not
think of it without feeling a trifle uncomfortable about the way she
had spoken to Tilderee.

The two little girls were not allowed to go beyond the enclosure which
surrounded the house, unless accompanied by their father or mother.
The few Indians in the vicinity had hitherto been peaceable and
friendly; but it was considered well to be cautious, and the country
was too sparsely settled to render it safe for one to wander about
alone. When Mrs. Prentiss, mounted on the old grey horse, rode to the