Dotty’s cross behavior had entirely spoiled the pleasure of the evening for her two sisters.  They felt, as they had felt years before, when they saw her, a mere baby, perched upon the wood-box, with her hands and feet tied ­they felt that it was a family disgrace.

All these little boys and girls, who had never known before what Dotty’s temper was, knew all about it now; they would talk of it to one another; they would go home and tell of it, and remember it forever and ever.

“And, O dear!” thought Susy, “they won’t know she was born so, and can’t help it.”

For that this was the case, Susy firmly believed.

“I’ve got it written in my journal,” thought Prudy, “how she promised to swallow it down; but Dotty isn’t well, and that’s the reason she can’t remember.”

Both the sisters knew that Dotty had left the parlors, and they were very glad of it.  They did not attempt to follow her.  They did not know precisely where she had gone, but presumed she was pouting somewhere.  That there could be danger of any sort for the poor child in that house they never dreamed.  Neither did Mr. or Mrs. Parlin dream it, or they would have walked home a little faster from their visit to the white tents on Green Street.

The games went on as usual, and were quite as amusing to the guests as if they had not been very poor ones indeed.  Susy and Prudy need not have feared that the little people would not have a good time; the “surprise party” was a perfect success, and Dotty’s ill-humor made no one unhappy but her sensitive sisters.  Meanwhile the wretched child was lying on the pantry floor, thinking very confused thoughts.

“I wish I was dead.  No I don’t.  I’m too wicked.  But I wasn’t any wickeder ’n that girl.  She said Susy Parlin had a bad sister.  What made her say that?  She knew I’d hear.  I’m glad I shook her.  No, I’m sorry.  It was murder ­the Bible says so.  Johnny murdered too ­murdered me.  He called me a ‘cross party.’  That was a story.  Johnny’s wickeder ’n ever I was.

“Prudy thought I ought to be a baby.  Percy thought so.  He said, ’I devise you to let that child alone.’  I’m going to let him alone!  All the time!  Did I want to fall off that yardstick, right into the tolly-blow?

“There’s Prudy:  she can be good; it doesn’t hurt her.  It hurts me to be good; it tires me all up.

“And here it is, as dark as a pickpocket.” (Dotty raised her head and took a survey.) “Why, the moon can’t get here, nor the sun.  Is this down cellar?  No, I didn’t see any stairs.  Where did I go to when I came?  I walked right on the floor.  What floor?  Was it the dining-room, or was it out doors?  I didn’t look at it to see.

“This is a ‘cuddy.’  There’s ever so many ‘cuddies’ in this house to hide in.  I’ve gone and hid.  Nobody’ll ever find me.  My father’ll say, ’Why, where’s that child?’ And my mother’ll say, ‘I don’t know.’  And they’ll hunt all over the house; and I shall keep my head in my apron, and won’t say a word.

“Then Prudy’ll say, ’O, my darling sister Dotty!  How sweet and good she was!’

“And they’ll think I’m dead!  And Susy’ll cry out loud, and tell Percy, and he’ll say, ’O, how sorry I am I said “I devise you to let that child alone"!’”

Dotty sighed as she pictured to herself Percy’s conscience-stricken face.

“And that girl that called me a bad sister ­how she’ll feel!  And Johnny ­I guess Johnny won’t say ‘cross party’ any more!

“Grandma ­why, grandma’ll read the Bible.  And O, such a time!

“That Angeline girl will remember how she rocked that darling Dotty, and told me stories.”

Dotty was seized with a sudden shivering.  The stories came back to her mind vividly.  If Angeline had told her simple little tales of every-day life, Dotty might have forgotten them; but, like all children, she had an active imagination, and anything marvellous or horrible made a deep impression.

The current of her thoughts was changed as soon as she remembered those unknown ghosts of Angeline’s description.

“All white, wrapped in a sheet.  Put a knife through, and they don’t know it.  No blood, no bones, no anything.  Go through a keyhole.  Will they, though?  Prudy don’t believe it.  Am I anywhere near a keyhole?  I don’t know.  I’ve gone and hid, and I can’t find myself.  I’m somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

Dotty began to feel very uncomfortable.  There was no longer the slightest satisfaction in the thought of frightening the family.  She was frightened herself, and with the worst kind of fear ­the fear of the supernatural.

“I can’t see the leastest thing, and I can’t hear anything, either.  Ghosts don’t make any noise.  May be there are some in this house:  been locked up, and the man didn’t know it.”

The silence seemed to grow deeper.  Dotty could hear her heart beat.

“My heart thumps like a mouse in the wall.  I’m going to get out of this place.  I feel as if there’s a ghost in here.  It creeps all over me.  I can’t get my breath.”

Dotty rose cautiously; but she had been lying so long in a cramped position that both her feet were asleep.  While trying to recover her balance she caught at something, which proved to be a glass jar of raspberry jam.  The cover came off, and the jam poured down her neck in a thick stream.

“My beautiful white dress with the red spots!  Who put that dirty thing in my way?  Smells like purserves.  They ought to be ashamed!”

Dotty tried bearing her weight on both feet, and found she could walk.

“But I’ve whirled round three or four times.  I didn’t ever know which way to go, and now I’m sure I don’t know so well as I did in the first place.  If I step any more, perhaps I’ll step into some molasses.”

Dotty’s meditations were becoming more confused than ever.  Now it was not only ghosts, but jam and jelly which went to make up the terrors of the situation.  But she was growing desperate.  She groped right and left, saying to herself, ­

“Where’s the out?”

At last she came to the door, which she had unconsciously closed when she entered the pantry.  She opened it, and her eyes were greeted with light.  It was the moon shining in at the kitchen windows.

Her fears vanished.  She was just wondering whether to return to the parlor in a forgiving spirit, or to stay away and make everybody unhappy, when a strange, horrible object met her view, ­not white, but yellow.

Was it ­was it ­a truly, truly ghost?  O, it must be a ghost on fire!  It hadn’t any sheet round it.  Nothing was to be seen but a hideous head peeping in at the window.  No man ever looked like that.  No man ever had such a mouth.  It was as deep as a cave, and all ablaze.  Somebody had gone and swallowed a stove; somebody had come to do ­do ­O, what had he come to do?

“It’s a yellow ghost!” thought Dotty.  “I didn’t know they had such a kind.  Angeline never said so.  But its eyes are just like her ghosts’ eyes ­going to burn you up!”

These thoughts darted through Dotty’s mind like lightning-flashes.  At the same time she gave one loud, terrified scream, and fell forward upon the floor.  She did not rise, she did not speak, she seemed scarcely to breathe.  The shock had partially stunned her.

“Why, Dotty ­Dotty Dimple!” exclaimed Percy, rushing in at the back door, and seizing his little cousin by the shoulders.  “Look up here, darling!  ’Twas nobody but me!”

No answer.

“Nobody but me and Percy,” said Johnny, pulling Dotty’s ears to attract her attention.

“Only a jack-o’-lantern, you dear little ducky,” cried Percy.

“A pumpkin, you goosie,” said Johnny.

No reply, but a sudden choking, followed by convulsive sobs.  Whether the child heard and understood what was said to her, Percy could not determine.  He was old enough to know that a sudden and powerful shock is always more or less dangerous.  He redoubled his efforts.

“Look, dear, here’s the pumpkin.  Holes cut out for eyes.  A gash for the mouth.  A candle stuck in.”

“Smart girl!” ejaculated Johnny, who was too young and ignorant to see anything but amusement in the whole affair.  “Smart girl, scared of a pumpkin!”

“Johnny was angry with you,” went on Percy, rather nervously; “he said he wanted to tease you.  I brought the pumpkin from our house.  I’m sorry.  Look up, Dimple, see what it is!  Don’t be afraid.  Laugh, or if you can’t laugh, cry.  Here’s my handkerchief.”

Dotty continued to moan.

Percy caught her up in his arms.  “Any pump in the house?  Johnny, get some water somewhere, quick! and then run for the camphor bottle.”

Percy was at his wit’s end.  He ran round and round, with the little girl in his arms.  She had life enough to cling to his neck.  Johnny saw a pail of water, dipped a tea-strainer into it, and dashed two drops in Dotty’s face.

“That won’t do, boy!  Throw on a quartful!  Hurry!”

Johnny promptly obeyed.  Dotty gasped for breath, and uttered a scream.  Percy felt encouraged.

“More, Johnny; the whole pailful.  We’ll have her out of this double-quick ­”

Just as Percy had extended his little cousin on the floor, and Johnny had poured enough water over her to soak every thread of her clothing, there was a sound of foot-steps.  Mr. and Mrs. Parlin were coming in at the back door.

“What does this mean?” they both exclaimed, very much alarmed, as might have been expected.  There lay their little daughter, screaming and gurgling, her mouth full of water, her dress stained with the raspberry jam, which was easily mistaken for blood.

“Why, uncle Edward,” stammered Percy, “’twas a ­”

“Why, auntie,” cried Johnny, “’twas only a pumpkin.  She went and was afraid of a pumpkin!”

The cause of this direful affright, the lighted jack-o’-lantern, was lying face upward on the floor, the candle within it smoking and dripping with tallow.  One glance explained the whole mystery.

But by this time there seemed to be no further cause for anxiety with regard to Dotty.  She gathered herself together, sat upright, and began to scold.

“’Twas blazing a-fire, mamma.  He lighted it to plague me ­Johnny did.”

“I’m ever so sorry, auntie,” said Percy, and his regretful face said as much as his words.

“Johnny scared me to death,” broke in Dotty; “and then he pumped water on me all over ­Johnny did.”

“I’ll never do so again,” said Percy, shamed by the look of reproach in his uncle’s face.

“See that you remember your promise, my boy.  You have run a great risk to-night.”

No one supposed, at the time, that Dotty had received a serious injury; but she did not sleep off the effects of her fright.  She was remarkably pale next morning, and declined her breakfast.  She had not been well for some time, but she had not trembled as now at the opening and shutting of a door.  It was plain that her nerves had been quite unstrung.

Days passed, and still she did not seem quite like herself.  Her father told the family physician she was not well, and asked what it was best to do with her.  The doctor said he thought she only needed time enough, and she would recover her “tone.”

“I have an idea,” said Mr. Parlin to his wife some days after this.  “If you approve, I believe I’ll take the child West with me, next time I go there on business.  I took Prudy once, and it is no more than fair that the other children should have their turn.”

“We will see,” said Mrs. Parlin; and so it was left.  The subject was never mentioned before Dotty; but here is what Prudy said of it in her journal: ­

“Septh. ­I think my little sister Dotty will go out West to see aunt Maria, &c.; but anybody mus’n’t ever tell her of it.  She is very pale, they poured so much water over her that night, and she thought it was a yellow ghost.

"I told her it was very, very wrong to sit in Angeline's lap and hear her talk so. We mus'n't believe anything for certain except Bible stories.

"She has had temper, and shook Ada Farley. But that was before she was frightened by the ghost, so she couldn't get her breath; and she won't do it again. Finis."