Who wants Horace for the head of the family?
He don't know more'n the head of a pin! When'd ever _he_ make ginger-bread ?" By this time Dotty had reached her own room in a tumult of rage.
"Prudy wouldn't 'low three heads to it, I s'pose?
O, no; for then I could be one! If I was a great boy, with a silver watch, that wasn't her own sister, she'd let me! Yes, if I had five heads, she wouldn't have said a word." Dotty paced the floor restlessly, with her hands behind her.
"I shan't go back.

Let 'em keep their old house.

I can keep house my own self up in this room--wish I'd brought Fly--she's too good for 'em.

Wish I hadn't come to New York to be imposed upon." As Dotty was crossing and recrossing the room, her eye fell on one of the illuminated cards on the wall, printed in red and gold, and wreathed with delicate lilies of the valley--"God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble." The angry child stopped short.
"Who put that there?
What did auntie mean?
She meant _me_.

Everybody means me.