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Little Prudy's Sister Susy

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<h3>PRUDY'S TROUBLE.</h3> The happy days flew by. The Old Year was worn out, and the New Year stepped in fresh and youthful. Susy found her little sleigh a very comfortable affair; and so, I think, did "lame Jessie." When her father found that Susy had really chosen for her pony the name of Wings, he ordered a beautiful picture of the Flying Horse to be painted on the dashboard of the sleigh. Susy was delighted with this, and her vivid fancy took wings at once, and flew away to the other end of the world, where her aunt Madge told her the fountain of Pirene was said to gush out of a hill-side. "Only think," said she to Flossy; "it was a woman once, that fountain was; but she poured her life all out into tears, crying because her son was killed. So the fountain is made of tears!" "Bitter and salt, then," said Florence, threading her needle. "No, indeed; just as sweet and nice as any water. Pegasus loved it; and there was a beautiful young man, his name was Bel—Bel—well, I declare, I've forgotten,—no, 'twas Bellerophon; and he had a bridle, and wanted a horse. O, do you know this horse was white, with silvery wings, wild as a hawk; and, once in a while, he would fold up his wings, and trot round on the mountain!" Florence yawned, and waxed her thread. "O, it was a splendid bridle, this man had, made of gold; and I forgot—the mountain the horse trotted round on was called Helicon. And the man mounted him, and went up, up, till they were nothing but specks in the sky." "A likely story," said Florence; "there, you've told enough! I don't want to hear any more such nonsense." "Well, if you don't want to hear about the monster they killed, you needn't; that's all I can say; but the young man loved that horse; and he kissed him, too, he was so splendid!" "Kiss a horse!" Flossy looked very, much disgusted. "Why, I've kissed my pony a great many times," said Susy, bravely, "right between his eyes; and he almost kisses me. He wants to say, 'I love you.' I can see it in his eyes." By this time Flossy had finished her doll's garment, and, putting it on the little thing's shoulders, held up the doll to be admired. "I think her opera cloak is very 'bewitching,' don't you, Susy? It is trimmed with ermine, because she is a queen, and is going to the opera." "It looks well enough," said Susy, indifferently, "but it isn't ermine; it's only white cat's fur, with black spots sewed on," "Of course it isn't real ermine!" replied Florence; "but I play that it is, and it's just as well." "But you know all the while it's a make-believe. She hasn't any more sense than a stick of wood, either; and I don't see any sport in playing with dolls." "And I don't see any sense in fairy stories," retorted Flossy. "Do you know what Percy says about you? He says your head is as full of airy notions as a dandelion top. I love Queen Mab as if she was my own sister," continued Flossy, in a pettish tone. "You know I do, Susy. I always thought, if anything should happen to Queen Mab, and I lost her, I should certainly dress in mourning; now you needn't laugh." "O, I can't help laughing, when anybody makes such a fuss over a doll," replied Susy, with a curl of the lip. "Anything that isn't alive, and hasn't any sense, and don't care for you! I like canary birds, and babies, and ponies, and that's enough to like." "Well, now, that's so funny!" said Florence, twitching the folds of Queen Mab's dress into place; "for the very reason I like my doll, is because she isn't alive. I wouldn't have been you, Susy Parlin, when you had your last canary bird, and let him choke to death." "O, no, Flossy, I didn't let him choke: I forgot to put any seed in the bottle, and he stuck his head in so deep, that he smothered to death." "I don't know but smothering is as bad as choking," said Florence; "and now your new bird will be sure to come to some bad end." "You're always saying hateful things," exclaimed Susy, a good deal vexed. "I like Grace Clifford ten times as well, for she's a great deal more lady-like." "Well, I suppose I can go home," said Florence, with a rising color; "you're such a perfect lady that I can't get along with you." "O, dear," thought poor Susy, "what does ail my tongue? Here this very morning I said in my prayer, that I meant to be good and patient." Florence began to put on her cloak. "Cousin Flossy," said Susy, in a hesitating voice, "I wish you wouldn't go. I didn't mean to tell that I liked Gracie best; but it's the real honest truth, and if I should take it back, 'twould be a lie." This was not making matters much better. Florence put on her hood, and tied it with a twitch. "But I like you ever so much, Flossy; now, you know I do. You're hateful sometimes; but so am I; and I can't tell which is the hatefulest." Here Flossy, who was as fickle as the wind, laughed merrily, took off her hood and cloak, and danced about the room in high spirits. "Yes," said she, "I'll stay just on purpose to plague you!" But good humor had been restored on both sides, and the little girls were soon talking together, as freely as if nothing had happened. "Just come out in the kitchen," said Susy, "and you shall see me wash my bird." "Why, I thought birds washed themselves," replied Florence, following her cousin with some surprise. "They do, but Dandy won't; it's all in the world I have against Dandy; he isn't a cold-water bird." Grandma Read stood by the kitchen table, clear-starching one of her caps—a piece of work which she always performed with her own hands. She moved one side to make room for Susy's bird-cage, but said she did not approve of washing canaries; she thought it must be a dangerous experiment. "If he needed a bath, he would take it himself, Susan. Little birds know what is best for them by instinct, thee may depend upon it." "But my birdie gay ought to be clean," persisted Susy, who was often very positive. "Mrs. Mason says so—the lady that gave him to me. I told her he wouldn't bathe, and she said then I must bathe him." Susy went to the range, and, dipping some hot water from the boiler, cooled it with fresh water, till she found, by putting in her fingers, that it was of a proper temperature, according to her own judgment. Then she plunged the timid little canary into the bowl, in spite of his fluttering. Such a wee young thing as he was too! He seemed to be afraid of the water, and struggled against it with all his small strength. "O, Dandy, darling," said Susy, in a cooing voice, as if she were talking to a baby; "be a little man, Dandy; hold up his head, and let Susy wash it all cleany! O, he's Susie's birdie gay!—What makes him roll up his eyes?" "Take him out quick, Susan," said grandma Read; "he will strangle." A few seconds more and all would have been over with birdie gay. He curled down very languidly on the floor of the cage, and seemed to wish to be let alone. "He acts so every morning when I bathe him," said Susy, who would not give up the point; "but Mrs. Mason told me to do it! Dotty always cried when she was washed, till she was ever so old." "I think," said Mrs. Parlin, who had just entered the kitchen, "I must ask Mrs. Mason if she is very sure it is proper to treat little birds in that way." "But look, mamma; here he is, shaking out his feathers, all bright and happy again. O, you cunning little Dandy, now we'll hang you up in the sun to dry. See him hop on one foot; that is just to make me laugh." "But I hop on one foot, too," said little Prudy, "and you don't laugh at me." "This is a droll little head for fancies," said Mrs. Parlin, patting Prudy's curls, and looking at grandma Read. "Do you know, mother, that for several days she has made believe she was lame Jessie, and has hobbled about whenever she could think of it." "Now you mustn't laugh," said Prudy, looking up with a grieved face; I can't never help hopping; I have to hop. My knee was so sick, I cried last night, and I was just as wide-awakeful!" "Ain't thee afraid the child has been hurt in some way, my daughter?" said grandma Read. "O, no, mother," said Mrs. Parlin, smiling, as Prudy limped out of the room. "I have examined her knee, and there is nothing the matter with it. She is only imitating that lame child. You know Prudy has all sorts of whims. Don't you know how she has wanted us to call her Jessie sometimes?" "Why, no, indeed, grandma, she isn't lame," said Susy, laughing. "Sometimes she will run about the room as well as I do, and then, in a few minutes, when she thinks of it, she will limp and take hold of chairs. Mother, isn't it just the same as a wrong story for Prudy to act that way? If I did so, you'd punish me; now, wouldn't you?" "I don't know what to think about it," said Mrs. Parlin, gravely. "Sometimes I am afraid Prudy is really becoming naughty and deceitful. I thought once it was only her funny way of playing; but she is getting old enough now to know the difference between truth and falsehood." There was an anxious look on Mrs. Parlin's face. She was a faithful mother, and watched her children's conduct with the tenderest care. But this lameness of which little Prudy complained, was something more than play; it was a sad truth, as the family learned very soon. Instead of walking properly when her mother bade her do so, the poor child cried bitterly, said it hurt her, and she was so tired she wished they would let her lie on the sofa, and never get up. At times she seemed better; and when everybody thought she was quite well, suddenly the pain and weakness would come again, and she could only limp, or walk by catching hold of chairs At last her father called in a physician. "How long has this child been lame?" said he. "A month or more." The doctor looked grave. "Has she ever had an injury, Mr. Parlin, such as slipping on the ice, or falling down stairs?" "No, sir," replied Mr. Parlin, "I believe not." "Not a serious injury that I know of," said Mrs. Parlin, passing her hand across her forehead, and trying to remember. "No, I think Prudy has never had a bad fall, though she is always meeting with slight accidents." "O, mamma," said Susy, who had begged to stay in the room, "she did have a fall: don't you know, Christmas day, ever so long ago, how she went rolling down stairs with her little chair in her arms, and woke everybody up?" The doctor caught at Susy's words. "With her little chair in her arms, my dear? And did she cry as if she was hurt?" "Yes, sir; she said the prongs of the chair stuck into her side." "It hurt me dreffully," said Prudy, who had until now forgotten all about it. "Susy spoke so quick, and said I was a little snail; and then I rolled over and over, and down I went." The doctor almost smiled at these words, lisped out in such a plaintive voice, as if Prudy could not think of that fall even now, without pitying herself very much. "Just let me see you stand up, little daughter," said he; for Prudy was lying on the sofa. But it hurt her to bear her weight on her feet. She said, "One foot, the 'lame-knee-foot,' came down so long, it more than touched the floor." The doctor looked sober. The foot did drag indeed. The trouble was not in her knee, but in her hip, which had really been injured when she fell down stairs, and the "prongs" of the chair were forced against it. It seemed to Mrs. Parlin strange that Prudy had never complained of any pain in her side; but the doctor said it was very common for people to suffer from hip-disease, and seem to have only a lame knee. "Hip-disease!" When Mrs. Parlin heard these words, she grew so dizzy, that it was all she could do to keep from fainting. It came over her in a moment, the thought of what her little daughter would have to suffer—days and nights of pain, and perhaps a whole lifetime of lameness. She had often heard of hip-disease, and was aware that it is a very serious thing. Do you know, she would gladly have changed places with Prudy, would gladly have borne all the child must suffer, if by that means she could have saved her? This is the feeling which mothers have when any trouble comes upon their children; but the little ones, with their simple minds, cannot understand it. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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