a hard knot. The story was rather too personal.
"Was the little girl pretty?" said she, trying to change the subject.
"Not very pretty, I think. Her skin was dark; her eyes were black, and remarkably bright. When I saw her, she was thirteen years old; and you may know, Dotty, that by that time her face could not well be very pleasant: temper always leaves its marks."
Dotty looked at her little plump hands, as if she expected to see black spots on them.
"Sometimes Harriet beat her head against the wall so violently that there seemed to be danger of her dashing her brains out."
Dotty looked up quite bravely. This dreadful little girl was worse than she had ever been! O, yes!
"Wasn't she crazy, mamma?"
Mrs. Parlin shook her head.
"No, I am afraid not, dear. Only, when she allowed anger to stay in her heart, it made her feel blind and dizzy. Perhaps she was crazy for the time."
Dotty hung her head again. She remembered how blind and dizzy sh