At last Dotty's "reasons" did begin to grow. Her mother was too wise and
kind to allow her to have her own naughty way; and by the time she was
four years old she had very few "temper days," and seemed to be growing
quite lovely.

But her sisters were troubled because she had not yet learned to read.
Prudy remembered how ashamed she herself had felt when she first set out
in earnest to go to school. For some time after her lameness she was so
delicate that no pains had been taken to teach her to read.

"My little sister must never be so stupid as I was," thought Prudy,
uneasily.

Sometimes visitors inquired if Miss Dotty knew her letters, and poor
Prudy blushed with shame when Mrs. Parlin calmly replied that she did
not.

"I'm sure mother feels mortified," thought Prudy; "but she holds up her
head, and tries to make the best of it. I'll not say a word to anybody,
but I mean to teach my little sister my own self!"

So one Wednesday afternoon, when Susy was away, Prudy called Dotty into
the nursery, and shut the door.

"What you want me of?" asked the child.

"I want to tell you something nice. Don't you wish you knew your A, B,
C's, darling? There, that's what it is."