Your sister Alice must learn to bear disappointments as well as you.

You are going to Bloomingdale with us, my child; so bring your blue dress to me, and let me see if it is in order." Though Prudy's offer to remain at home had been made in all good faith, and though she was really sorry to think of leaving Dotty alone, still I cannot say her heart did not bound with delight on being told she _must_ go.
Thursday morning came clear and bright, and with it Miss Polly, downcast and sad, in a mournful brown bonnet, the front of which, as Prudy said, was "making a courtesy." Miss Polly was, however, in as good spirits as usual, and had come to keep house with Ruth, and help take care of the children for this day and the next.
Till the last minute Prudy and Dotty walked the piazza, their arms about each other's waist.
"I s'pose," said Dotty, sullenly, "when you are at that old Cousin Lydia's, having good times, you won't think anything about me and Katie, left here all alone." "Why, little sister!" "Maybe," continued Dotty, "the ducks will hatch while you're gone.

I saw the white hen flying over the fence with one of those eggs in her mouth." "A piece of the shell ?" "O, no, a whole egg, right in her bill," replied Dotty, who supposed she was telling the truth.

"And you know those big strawberries that cost a cent apiece, Prudy; you'll be sorry you couldn't be here to help eat 'em in cream." Perhaps Dotty hoped, even at this last moment, that Prudy would be induced to stay at home.

If so, she was doomed to be disappointed.
"Well," said Prudy, "I'm glad you'll have such nice times, Dotty." "O, it won't be nice at all.