But which way to go? She had not yet learned the plan of the house, but
had no doubt she could find her father's room. She pattered about the
chambers with her little bare feet, and at last waked Horace by
overturning a chair near his bed.

"Why, who is there? And what's wanted?"

"It's me, and I want my father."

By this time Aunt Maria, hearing a noise, had come in with a light.

"Are you sick, dear child?"

"No, auntie; I don't know what's the matter; I 'spect it's the blues. I
had 'em you know, when the beer came to an end--I mean the world--I mean
that night Polly Whiting called me up."

Horace used all his self-control to keep from laughing.

"Well, Cousin Dotty, you do look blue, I declare; as blue as the
skimmiest milk of the cheatiest milkman. Mother, isn't there
something in the medicine chest that is good for the blues?"

"They are in my side--I mean _it_," said Dotty, dismally. "I'm afraid
it's a--snake?"

Mrs. Clifford took the afflicted child in her arms, and began to
question her with regard to the exact spot where she felt the "blues,"
assuring her that some relief might be afforded if the nature of the
trouble could only be discovered.