remarked the oily-tongued woman, as she folded up a green and yellow
plaid shawl, and put it on the arm of the seat for a pillow. "I should
like to know what your name is; and some time, perhaps, I can tell your
mother how kind you were to my baby."

"My name is Alice Parlin," replied our enraptured heroine, "and I live
in Portland. I'm going out West, where the Hoojers live. I--"

Dotty stopped herself just in time to avoid "putting on airs."

"H--m! I _thought_ I had seen you before. Well, your mother is proud of
you; I know she is," remarked the new acquaintance, settling herself for
a nap.

Dotty looked at her as she lay curled in an ungraceful heap, with her
eyes closed. It was a hard, disagreeable face. Dotty did not know why it
was unpleasing. She only compared it with the child's usual standard,
and thought, "She is not so handsome as my mamma," and went on making
great eyes at the baby.

She was not aware that the person she was obliging was Mrs. Lovejoy, an
old neighbor of the Parlins, who had once been very angry with Susy,
saying sarcastic words to her, which even now Susy could not recall
without a quiver of pain.

For some time Dotty danced the lumpish baby up and down, sustained in
her tedious task by remembering the honeyed compliments its mother had
given her.

"I should think they _would_ be proud of me at home; but nobody ever