"I heard that before ever you did." "Lie not one to another," repeated Dotty, slowly.

"Now, I'm _one_, Jennie, and you're _another_; and isn't it wicked when we tell the leastest speck of a fib ?" "Of course 'tis," was the prompt reply; "but I don't tell 'em." "O, Jennie, who told your step-mother that Charlie Gray was tied up in a meal-bag?
I'm afraid," said Dotty, laying her hand solemnly on little Katie's head as if it had been a pulpit-cushion, and she a minister preaching,--"I'm afraid, Jennie, _you_ lie one to another." "One to anudder," echoed Katie, breaking away and running after a toad.
Jennie knitted her brows.

"It doesn't look very well for such a small child as you are to preach to me, Dot Parlin!" "But _I_ always tell the white truth myself, Jennie, because God hears me.

Do _you_ think much about God ?" "No, I don't know as I do; nobody does, He's so far off," said Jennie, stooping to pluck an innocent flower.
"Why, Jennie, He isn't far off at all! He's everywhere, and here too.

He holds this world, and all the people, right in His arms; right in His arms, just as if 'twas nothing but a baby." Dotty's tones were low and earnest.
"Who told you so ?" said Jennie.
"My mamma; and she says we couldn't move nor breathe without Him not a minute." "There, I did then!" cried Jennie, taking a long breath; "I breathed way down ever so far, and I did it myself." "O, but God let you." Dotty felt very good and wise, and as she had finished giving her benighted friend a lesson, she thought she would speak now of every day matters.
"Look at those little puddles in the road," said she; "don't they make you think of pudding-sauce--molasses and cream, I mean--for hasty-pudding ?" "No," said Jennie, tossing her head, "I never saw any pudding-sauce that looked a speck like that dirty stuff! Besides, we don't use molasses at our house; rich folks never do; nobody but poor folks." "O, what a story!" said Dotty, coloring.