CHAPTER IX.
THANKSGIVING DAY.
The next day was Thanksgiving.

Dotty wakened in such a happy mood that it seemed to her the world had never looked so bright before.
"I don't think, Prudy, it's the turkey and plum pudding we're going to have that makes me so happy--do you ?" "What is it, then, little sister ?" "O, it's 'cause I dreamed I was sleeping on pin-feathers, and woke up and found I wasn't.

You'd feel a great deal better, Prudy, if you'd run away and had such a dreadful time, and got home again." "I don't want to try it," returned Prudy, with a smile.
"No; but it's so nice to be forgiven!" said Dotty, laying her hand on her heart, "it makes you feel so easy right in here." A fear came over Prudy that the little runaway had not been punished enough.

But Dotty went on:-- "It makes you feel as if you'd never be naughty again.

Now, if my mamma was always thumping me with a thimble, and scolding me so as to shake the house, I shouldn't care; but when she is just like an angel, and forgives me, I _do_ care." "I'm so glad, Dotty! I think, honestly, mother's the best woman that ever lived." "Then why didn't she marry the best man ?" asked Dotty, quickly.
"Who is that ?" "Why, Abraham Lincoln, of course." Prudy laughed.
"Yes; I suppose Mr.Lincoln was the best man that ever lived; but papa comes next." "Yes," said Dotty; "I think he does.