nestlings supper.

When, at last, they reached Mrs. Eastman's, Prudy eagerly described the
young wonders she had found.

"It was like a story," said she, "of little widow-children,--how the
mother was dead, and the children had to stay alone."

"Children are never widows," said Susy, laughing; "it isn't possible!
But if their parents die, they are orphans sometimes."

"That's just what I meant," exclaimed Prudy, looking crestfallen. "I
should think you might know what I mean, 'thout laughing at me,
either."

Before long Dotty Dimple arrived, in great triumph. She threw her chubby
arms about her mother's neck, saying, "Is I your little comfort, mamma?
I camed in the hoss and carriage. S'an't give Prudy no supper--will you?
'Cause Prudy runned away!"

"I should not have allowed this child to come," said Mrs. Parlin, at the
tea table; "but cousin Percy always picks up the stray babies, and gives
them a ride."

Dotty looked as if she could easily forgive her cousin Percy. But there
was one thing that made her nice supper taste like "spoiled nectar," and
that was the sight of Prudy enjoying her strawberries and cream.

If she had runned away, as Dotty insisted upon believing, why was she
not shut up in the closet? Strange to say, dearly as Dotty loved this