CHAPTER XI.
BUYING A BROTHER.
"One, two, buckle my slipper! no, my gaiters," repeated Miss Dimple, as Prudy laced her boots.

"I wish I was a horse, then my shoes would be nailed on, and be done with it." "I'm so glad," said Prudy, putting on her hat, "that we can go to housekeeping again." They had built a shingle palace on the bank of the river.

It was as white as chalk could make it, and glared like a snowdrift out of a clump of evergreens which were no taller than dandelions.
"Our house is shaded so much," said Prudy, "that it makes me think of a lady with hair over her eyes." The entrance to the little palace was through a swinging door, of white cloth, and from the roof fluttered a small flag.

There were four rooms in the house, all of them on the ground floor.

The parlor was elegantly furnished with a braided carpet, of striped grass, a piano, whose black and white keys were put on with coal and chalk, not to mention other articles of luxury.