Dotty shook her head three or four times, and looked down at the carpet.

"Why, Dotty Dimple, you oughtn't to do so. You must answer when a
question is asked. Wouldn't you like to learn your letters, like a goody
girl, so you can read the nice books? Now be polite, and speak."

"I don't want to be polite, and speak, nor I don't want to learn my
letters, like a goody gell; so there!" replied Dotty, seizing the kitty,
and wrapping her in a shawl.

"O, Dotty Dimple!" said Prudy, in a tone of deep distress; "how old
you're getting to be! just think!"

"I'm four years old, and I weigh four pounds," answered Dotty, drawing
out her little cab, and throwing the muffled kitty into it, as if she
had been a roll of cloth.

"O, my stars, Dotty, I can't bear to have you talk so."

Dotty tucked in the kitty's tail, and drew the carriage about the room,
to give "Pusheen" an airing. "Pusheen" was her kitty's name in Irish.

"You can't think how dreadful it is, Dotty, to grow up and not know
anything!"

Dotty turned a short corner. Pusheen had a fall; down came the little
cab, kitty and all.

"To grow up and not know anything," continued Prudy. "O, it's enough to