little, but her mind was out of doors, and the unwilling piano seemed
crying out to be let alone.

"I can't play," said Susy, decidedly; "and that's the truth."

At that moment a sweet little voice was heard, singing, "John's Brown
buddy;" and Dotty Dimple's head and shoulders were thrust into the
room.

"I've broked it," said she; "I've broked it all to smash."

"Broke what, for pity's sakes?"

"Your teapot," replied Dotty, in a very cheerful voice.

"O, I never did, in all my life, see such a child," wailed Susy. "What
made you go and meddle with my dear little gold-edged tea-set?"

Dotty looked like an injured lamb, brushed the wayward hair out of her
eyes, and gazed wistfully into her sister's face.

"Is I your little comfort, Susy? Is I your little comfort?"

"No," cried Susy, wavering between a smile and a tear; "no, indeed! To
think of _your_ being a comfort! O, my stars!"

"Well, then," continued the little one, in a soothing, cooing tone,
"then I never broked it; it broked itself!"

So saying, she produced from the depths of her pocket the fragments of