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diff --git a/19247-h/19247-h.htm b/19247-h/19247-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ac7f59 --- /dev/null +++ b/19247-h/19247-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5347 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dotty Dimple's Flyaway, by Sophie May + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + a[name] { position:absolute; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:hover { color:#ff0000; background-color:#FFFFFF; } + + table { width:60%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .tocch { text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.f1 { font-size:smaller; } +.img1 { border-style:solid; border-width:1px; border-color:#000000; } +.sig { margin-left:25%; } +.sig1 { margin-left:15%; } +.sig2 { margin-left:10%; } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style:normal; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .caption {font-weight: bold; + font-size: smaller; + } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dotty Dimple's Flyaway, by Sophie May + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dotty Dimple's Flyaway + +Author: Sophie May + +Release Date: September 11, 2006 [EBook #19247] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY *** + + + + +Produced by Sigal Alon, La Monte H.P. Yarroll, Sankar +Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" width="600" height="426" /></div> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_01.jpg" alt=""What for you look that way to me?"" width="400" height="650" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"<span class="smcap">What for you look that way to me</span>?"—Page <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_02.jpg" alt="Front Page" width="400" height="666" /></p> +<p> </p> + + +<h4>DOTTY DIMPLE STORIES.</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY.</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2>By SOPHIE MAY,</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "LITTLE PRUDY STORIES."</h4> +<p> </p> +<h5>Illustrated.</h5> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>BOSTON:<br /> + +LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.<br /> + + +NEW YORK:<br /> + +LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.<br /> + + + + +1871. +</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h3>TO THE</h3> + +<h2>LITTLE LINDSAYS.</h2> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tocch f1">CHAPTER</td><td></td><td></td><td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">I.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Beginning to remember</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_II">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">II.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Running away to Church</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_II">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch"> III.</td><td> </td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Running away to Heaven</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_III">.</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">IV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">A Railroad Savage</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">V.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">East again</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_V">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">VI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Rag-Bag</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch"> VII.</td><td> </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">The Wicked Girl</span>.</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VIII.</td><td> </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">"<span class="smcap">Wheelbarrowing</span>."</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">IX.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Tin-Types</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">X.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Waking</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_X">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Aunt Polly's Story</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">.</a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch"> XII.</td><td> </td> +<td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">Full Nipperkin.</span></a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h2>DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h4>BEGINNING TO REMEMBER.</h4> +<p>Katie Clifford was a very bright child. +She almost knew enough to keep out of +fire and water, but not quite. She looked +like other little girls, only so wise,—O, +so very wise!—that you couldn't tell her +any news about the earth, or the sun, +moon, and stars, for she knew all about +it "byfore."</p> + +<p>Her hair was soft and flying like corn-silk, +and when the wind took it you would +think it meant to blow it off like a dandelion +top. She was so light and breezy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +and so little for her age, that her father +said "they must put a cent in her pocket +to keep her from flying away;" so, after +that, the family began to call her <i>Flyaway</i>. +She thought it was her name, and +that when people said "Katie," it was a +gentle way they had of scolding.</p> + +<p>Everybody petted her. Her brother +Horace put his heart right under her feet, +and she danced over it. Her "uncle Eddard" +said "she drove round the world +in a little chariot, and all her friends were +harnessed to it, only they didn't know it."</p> + +<p>Her shoulders were very little, but they +bore a crushing weight of care. From +the time she began to talk, she took upon +herself the burden of the whole family. +When Mrs. Clifford had a headache, Flyaway +was so full of pity that nothing +could keep her from climbing upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +sufferer, stroking her face, and saying, +"O, my <i>dee</i> mamma," or perhaps breaking +the camphor bottle over her nose.</p> + +<p>She sat at table in a high chair beside +her father, and might have learned good +manners if it had not been for the care +she felt of Horace. She could scarcely +attend to her own little knife and fork, +because she was so busy watching her +brother. She wished to see for herself +that he was sitting straight, and not leaning +his elbows on the table. If he made +any mistake she cried, "Hollis!" in a +tone as sweet as a wind-harp, though she +meant it to be terribly severe, adding to +the effect by shaking the corn-silk on her +head in high displeasure. If she could +correct him she thought she had done as +much good in the family as if she had +behaved well herself. He received all re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>bukes +very meekly, with a "Thank you, +little Topknot. What would be done here +without you to preserve order?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway could remember as far back as +the beginning of the world,—that is to +say, she could remember when <i>her</i> world +began.</p> + +<p>It is strange to think of, but the first +thing she really knew for a certainty, she +was standing in a yellow chair, in her +grandmother Parlin's kitchen! It was as +if she had always been asleep till that +minute. People did say she had once +been a baby, but she could not recollect +that, "it was so <span class="smcap">many</span> years ago."</p> + +<p>Her mind, you see, had always been +as soft as a bag of feathers; and nothing +that she did, or that any one else did, +made much impression. But now something +remarkable was taking place, and +she would never forget it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was this: she was grinding coffee. +How prettily it pattered down on the floor! +What did it look like? O, like snuff, that +people sneezed with. This was housework. +Next thing they would ask her to +wash dishes and set the table. She would +grow larger and larger, and Gracie would +grow littler and littler; and O, how nice +it would be when she could do all the +work, and Gracie had to sit in mamma's +lap and be rocked!</p> + +<p>"Flywer'll do some help," said she. +"Flywer'll take 'are of g'amma's things."</p> + +<p>While she stood musing thus, with a +dreamy smile, and turning the handle of +the mill as fast as it would go round, +somebody sprang at her very unexpectedly. +It was Ruth, the kitchen-girl. She +seized Katie by the shoulders, carried her +through the air, and set her on her feet +in the sink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, little Mischief," said she, "you'll +stay there one while! We'll see if we +can't put a stop to this coffee-grinding! +Why, you're enough to wear out the patience +of Job!"</p> + +<p>Katie had often heard about Job; she +supposed it was something dreadful, like a +lion, or a whale. She looked up at Ruth, +and saw her black eyes flashing and the +rosy color trembling in her cheeks. Cruel +Ruth! She did not know Katie was her +best friend, working and helping get dinner +as fast as she could. "Ruthie," +sobbed she, "you didn't ask please."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, child, I'm in a hurry; and +when you set things to flying, you're +enough to wear out the patience of Job."</p> + +<p>Job again.</p> + +<p>"You've said so two times, Ruthie! +Now I don't like you tall, tenny rate."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was as harsh language as Katie +dared use; but she frowned fearfully, and +a tuft of hair, rising from her head like +a waterspout, made her look so fierce +that Ruth seemed to be frightened, and +ran away with her apron up to her face.</p> + +<p>The sink was so high that Katie could +not get out of it alone,—"course <i>indeed</i> +she couldn't."</p> + +<p>"It most makes me 'fraid," said she to +herself: "Ruthie's a big woman, I's a little +woman. When I's the biggest I'll put +Ruthie in <i>my</i> sink."</p> + +<p>Very much comforted by this resolve, +she dried her eyes and began to look +about her for more housework. "Let's +me see; I'll pump a bushel o' water."</p> + +<p>There was a pail in the sink; so, what +should she do but jump into that, and +then jerk the pump-handle up and down,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +till a fine stream poured out and sprinkled +her all over!</p> + +<p>"Sing a song, O sink-spout," sang she, +catching her breath: but presently she +began to feel cold.</p> + +<p>"O, how it makes me <i>shivvle</i>!" said +she.</p> + +<p>"Katie!" called out a voice.</p> + +<p>"Here me are!" gurgled the little one, +her mouth under the pump-nose.</p> + +<p>When Horace came in she was standing +in water up to the tops of her long white +stockings. He took her out, wrung her +a little, and set her on a shelf in the +pantry to dry.</p> + +<p>"Oho!" said she, shaking her wet plumage, +like a duckling; "what for you +look that way to me? I didn't do nuffin,—not +the leastest nuffin! The water +kep' a comin' and a comin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, you little naughty girl, and you +kept pumping and pumping."</p> + +<p>"I'm isn't little naughty goorl," thought +Katie, indignantly; "but Ruthie's naughty +goorl, and Hollis <i>velly</i> naughty goorl."</p> + +<p>"O, here you are, you little Hop-o'-my-thumb," +said Mrs. Clifford, coming into +the pantry; "a baby with a cough in her +throat and pills in her pocket musn't get +wet."</p> + +<p>Flyaway thrust her hand into her wet +pocket to make sure the wee vial of white +dots was still there.</p> + +<p>"I fished her out of a pail of water," +said Horace; "to-morrow I shall find her +in a bird's nest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford sent for some fresh stockings +and shoes. Her baby-daughter was +so often falling into mischief that she +thought very little about it. She did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +know this was a remarkable occasion, and +the baby had to-day begun to remember. +She did not know that if Flyaway should +live to be an old lady, she would sometimes +say to her grandchildren,—</p> + +<p>"The very first thing I have any recollection +of, dears, is grinding coffee in your +great-grandmamma's kitchen at Willowbrook. +The girl, Ruth Dillon, took me +up by the shoulders, carried me through +the air, and set me in the sink, and then +I pumped water over myself."</p> + +<p>This is about the way little Flyaway +would be likely to talk, sixty years from +now, adding, as she polished her spectacles,—</p> + +<p>"And after that, children, things went +into a mist, and I don't remember anything +else that happened for some time."</p> + +<p>Why was it that things "went into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +mist"? Why didn't she keep on remembering +every day? I don't know.</p> + +<p>But the next thing that really did happen +to Miss Thistleblow Flyaway, though +she went right off and forgot it, was this: +She persuaded her mother to write a letter +for her to "Dotty Dimpwill." As it was +her first letter, I will copy it.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +"<span class="smcap">My dear Dotty Dimpwill</span> first, then <span class="smcap">My +Prudy</span>:<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I'm going to say that I dink milk, +and that girl lost my pills.</p> + +<p>"I see a hop-toad. He hopped. Jennie +took <i>her</i> up in <i>his</i> dress.</p> + +<p>"And 'bout we put hop-toad in wash-dish. +He put his foots out, <i>stwetched</i>, +honest! He was a slippy fellow. First +thing we knowed it, he hopped on to her +dress. Isn't that funny?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now 'bout the chickens; they are trottin' +round on the grass: they didn't be +dead. <i>We</i> haven't got any only but dead +ones; but Mis' Gray has.</p> + +<p>"I like Dr. Gray ever so much!</p> + +<p>"Mis' Gray gave me the kitty to play +with. I bundled it all up in my dress, +'cause I didn't want the cat to get it. +When I went home I gave it to the cat. +[You got that <i>wroten</i>?]</p> + +<p>"There wasn't any <i>dead</i> little kittens. +She gave me a cookie, and I eated it, and +I told her to give me another to bring +home, 'cause I liked her cookies; they was +curly cookies. [Got it wroted, mamma?]</p> + +<p>"Now 'bout I pumped full a pail full +o' water.</p> + +<p>"[She <i>knows</i> we've got a house?]</p> + +<p>"Now say good by, and I kiss her a +pretty little kiss. O, no; I want her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +come and see me,—her and Prudy,—<i>two</i> +of 'em! I's here yet. ['Haps she knows +it!]</p> + +<p>"That's all—I feel sleepy.</p> + +<p class="sig2"> +(Signed) "From</p> +<p class="sig1"> +"<span class="smcap">Dotty Dimpwill to Flywer</span>."<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>This letter "went into a mist," and so +did the next performance, which you will +read in the following chapter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>RUNNING AWAY TO CHURCH.</h3> + + +<p>The little Parlins came the next week. +One Sunday morning Dotty Dimple stood +before the glass, putting on her hat for +church. Katie came and peeped in with +her, opening her small mouth and drawing +her lips over her teeth, as her grandfather +did when he shaved.</p> + +<p>"See, Flyaway, you haven't any dimples +at all!" said Dotty, primping a little. +"Your hair isn't smooth and curly like +mine; it sticks up all over your head, +like a little fan."</p> + +<p>"O, my shole!" sighed Flyaway, scowl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>ing +at herself. She did not know how +lovely she was, nor how</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The light of the heaven she came from<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still lingered and gleamed in her hair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I wisht 'twouldn't get out," said she.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by <i>out</i>?"</p> + +<p>"O, unwetted, and un-comb-bid, and un-parted."</p> + +<p>"That's because you fly about like such +a little witch."</p> + +<p>"I doesn't do the leastest nuffin, Dotty +Dimpwill! Folks ought to let me to go +to churches."</p> + +<p>"I <i>should</i> laugh, Fly Clifford, to see <i>you</i> +going to churches! All the ministers would +come down out of the pulpits and ask +what little mischief that was, and make +aunt 'Ria carry you home!"</p> + +<p>"No, he wouldn't, too! I'd sit stiller'n<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +two, free, five hundred mouses," pleaded +Flyaway, climbing up the back of a chair +to show how quiet she could be.</p> + +<p>"O, it's no use to talk about it, darling. +Give me one kiss, and I'll go get my sun-shade."</p> + +<p>"Can't, Dotty Dimpwill! My mamma's +kiss I'll keep; it's ahind my mouf; she's +gone to 'Dusty.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'keep it ahind your mouf,' then; +and here's another to put with it. What +<i>do</i> you s'pose makes me love to kiss you +so?"</p> + +<p>"O, 'cause I so sweet," replied Flyaway, +promptly; but she was not thinking +of her own sweetness, just then; she was +wondering if she could manage to run +away to church.</p> + +<p>"I'se a-goin' there myse'f! Sit still's a—a—" +She looked around for a com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>parison, +and saw a grasshopper on the +window-sill: "still's a <i>gas-papa</i>. Man +won't say nuffin' to me, see 'f he does!"</p> + +<p>Strange such an innocent-looking child +could be so sly! She ran down the path +with Horace, kissing her little hand to +everybody for good by, all the while +thinking how she could steal off to church +without being seen.</p> + +<p>"You may go up stairs and lie down +with me on my bed," said grandma, who +was not very well. So Katie climbed upon +the bed.</p> + +<p>"My dee gamma, I so solly you's sick!" +said she, stroking Mrs. Parlin's face, and +picking open her eyelids. But after patting +and "pooring" the dear lady for some +time, she thought she had made her "all +well," and then was anxious to get away. +Mrs. Parlin wished to keep her up stairs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +as long as possible, because Ruth had a +toothache.</p> + +<p>"Shan't I tell you a story, dear?" said +she.</p> + +<p>"Yes, um; tell 'bout a long baby—no, +a long story 'bout a short baby."</p> + +<p>"Well, once there was a king, and he +had a daughter—"</p> + +<p>"O, no, gamma, not that! Tell me +'bout baby that <i>didn't</i> be on the bul-yushes; +I don't want to hear 'bout <i>Mosey</i>!"</p> + +<p>Grandma smiled, and wondered if people, +in the good old Bible days, were in +the habit of using pet names, and if Pharaoh's +daughter ever called the Hebrew +boy "Mosey." She was about to begin +another story, when Flyaway said, "Guess +I'll go out, now," and slid off the bed. +There was an orange on the table. She +took it, held it behind her, and walked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +quickly to the door. Looking back, she +saw that her grandmother was watching +her.</p> + +<p>"What you looking at, gamma? 'Cause +I'm are goin' to bring the ollinge right +back."</p> + +<p>And so she did, but not because it was +wrong to keep it. Flyaway had no conscience, +or, if she had any, it was very +small, folded up out of sight, like a leaf-bud +on a tree in the spring.</p> + +<p>"Ask Ruthie to wash your face and +hands, and then come right back to grandma +and hear the story."</p> + +<p>"Yes um."</p> + +<p>Down stairs she pattered. The moment +Ruth had kissed her, and turned +away to make a poultice, she crept into +the nursery, and put on Horace's straw hat. +Then she took from a corner an old cane<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +of her grandfather's, and from the paper-rack +a daily newspaper, and started out +in great glee. The "Journal" she hugged +to her heart, and her short dress she held +up to her waist, "'Cause I s'pect I mus' +keep it out o' the mud," said she, as anxiously +as any lady with a train.</p> + +<p>She had no trouble in finding the church, +for the road was straight, but the cane +kept tripping her up.</p> + +<p>"Naughty fing! Wisht I hadn't took +you, to-day, you act so bad!" said she, +picking herself up for the fifth time, and +slinging the "naughty fing" across her +shoulder like a gun. When she came to +the meeting-house there was not a soul to +be seen. "Guess they's eatin' dinner in +here," decided Flyaway, after looking about +for a few seconds. "Guess I'll go up +chamer, see where the folks is."</p> + +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_03.jpg" alt="Running away to Church." width="400" height="623" /><br /> +<span class="caption"> <span class="smcap">Running away to Church</span>.</span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<p>Up stairs she clattered, hitting the balusters +with her cane. Good Mr. Lee was +preaching from the text, "Remember the +Sabbath day, to keep it holy," and people +could not imagine who was naughty enough +to make such a noise outside—thump, +thump, thump.</p> + +<p>"Who's that a-talkin'?" thought Flyaway, +startled by Mr. Lee's voice. "O, ho! +that's the <i>prayer-man</i> a-talkin'. He makes +me kind o' 'fraid!"</p> + +<p>But just at that minute she had reached +the top of the stairs, and was standing in +the doorway.</p> + +<p>"O, my shole! so <i>many</i> folks!"</p> + +<p>She trembled, and was about to run +away with her newspaper and cane; but +her eyes, in roving wildly about, fell upon +grandpa Parlin and all the rest of them, +in a pew very near the pulpit. Then she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +thought it must be all right, and, taking +courage, she marched slowly up the aisle, +swinging the cane right and left.</p> + +<p>Everybody looked up in surprise as the +droll little figure crept by. Grandpa +frowned through his spectacles, and aunt +Louise shook her head; but Horace hid +his face in a hymn-book and Dotty Dimple +actually smiled.</p> + +<p>"They didn't know <i>I</i> was a-comin'," +thought Flyaway, "but I camed!"</p> + +<p>And with that she fluttered into the +pew.</p> + +<p>"Naughty, naughty girl," said aunt Louise, +in an awful whisper.</p> + +<p>She longed to take up the morsel of +naughtiness, called Katie, in her thumb and +finger, shake it, and carry it out. But +there was a twinkle in the little one's eye +that might mean mischief; she did not +dare touch her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<p>"O, what a child!" said aunt Louise, +taking off the big hat and setting Flyaway +down on the seat as hard as she +could.</p> + +<p>Flyaway looked up, through her veil of +flossy hair, at her pretty auntie with the +roses round her face.</p> + +<p>"Nobody didn't take 'are o' me to my +house," said she, in a loud whisper, "and +<i>that's</i> what is it!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said aunt Louise, giving Flyaway +another shake, which frightened her +so that she dropped her head on her brother's +shoulder, and sat perfectly still for +half a minute.</p> + +<p>Aunt Louise was sadly mortified, and +so were Susy and Prudy. They dared +not look up, for they thought everybody +was gazing straight at the Parlin pew, and +laughing at their crazy little relative. Hor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>ace +and Dotty Dimple did not care in +the least; they thought it very funny.</p> + +<p>"They shan't scold at my cunning little +Topknot," whispered Horace, consolingly. +"Sit still, darling, and when we get home +I'll give you a cent."</p> + +<p>"Yes um, I will," replied poor brow-beaten +Flyaway, and held up her head +again with the best of them. Perhaps she +had been naughty; perhaps folks were +going to snip her fingers; but "Hollis" +was on her side now and forever. She +began to feel quite contented. She had +got inside the church at last, and was very +well pleased with it. It was even queerer +than she had expected.</p> + +<p>"What was that high-up thing the prayer-man +was a-standin' on?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway merely asked this of her own +wise little brain. She concluded it must +be "a chimley."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Great red curtains ahind him," added +she, still conversing with her own little +brain. "Lots o' great big bubbles on the +walls all round. Big's a tea-kiddle! Lamps, +I s'pose. There's that table. Where's the +cups and saucers for the supper? And +the tea-pot?</p> + +<p>"All the bodies everywhere had their +bonnets on; why for? Didn't say a word, +and the prayer-man kep' a-talkin' all the +time; why for? Flywer didn't talk; no +indeed. Folks mus'n't. If folks did, then +the man would come down out the chimley +and tell the other bodies to carry 'em +home. 'Cause it's the holy Sabber-day,—and +<i>that's</i> what is it."</p> + +<p>Flyaway's airy brain went dancing round +and round. She slid away from Horace's +shoulder, spread her little length upon the +seat, closed her wondering, tired eyes, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +sailed off to Noddle's Island. A fly, buzzing +in from out doors, had long been trying +to settle on Flyaway's restless nose. +He never did settle: Horace kept guard +with a palm-leaf fan, and "all the other +bodies" in the pew sat as still as if they +had been nailed down; so anxious were +they to keep the little sleeper safely harbored +at Noddle's Island.</p> + +<p>"Such a relief!" thought aunt Louise, +venturing to look up once more.</p> + +<p>Flyaway did not waken till the last +prayer, when Horace held her fast, lest +she should make a sudden rush upon a +speckled dog, which came trotting up the +aisle.</p> + +<p>On the steps they met Ruth, with wild +eyes and face tied up in a scarf, hunting +for Flyaway. Mrs. Parlin, she said, was +going up the hill, so frightened that it +would make her "down sick."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>When grandma got home, all out of +breath, she found Flyaway looking very +downcast. Her heart was heavy under so +many scoldings. "O, Katie," said grandma, +"how could you run away?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't yun away," replied Flyaway, +thrusting her finger into her mouth; "I +<i>walked</i> away!"</p> + +<p>"There, if that isn't a cunning baby, +where'll you find one?" whispered brother +Horace to Prudy. "Grandmother can't punish +her after such a 'cute speech."</p> + +<p>But grandmother could, and did. She +took her by the little soft hand, led her +to the china closet, and locked her in.</p> + +<p>"Half an hour you must stay there," +said she, "and think what a naughty girl +you've been!"</p> + +<p>"Yes um," said Flyaway, meekly, and +wiped off a tear with the hem of her frock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the moment she was left alone, her +quick, observing eyes saw something which +gave her a thrill of delight. It was a jar +of quince jelly, which had been left by +accident on the lower shelf.</p> + +<p>"'Cause I spect I likes um," said she, +serenely, after eating all she possibly could.</p> + +<p>At the end of half an hour grandma +came and turned the key.</p> + +<p>"Have you been thinking, dear, and +are you sorry and ready to come out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, um," replied the little culprit, +with her mouth full, and feeling very brave +as long as the door was shut between her +and her jailer. "Yes, um, I've thought it +all up,—defful solly. <i>But</i> you won't +never shut me up no more, gamma Parlin!"</p> + +<p>"Katie Clifford!" said grandma, sternly; +and then she opened the door, and faced +Flyaway.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Cause—'cause—<i>'cause</i>," cried the little +one, in great alarm; "you won't shut +me up, 'cause I won't never walk away +no more, gamma Parlin!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin tried hard not to smile; but +the mixture on Flyaway's little face of +naughtiness, jelly, and fright, was very +funny to see.</p> + +<p>The child noticed that her grandmother's +brows knit as if in displeasure, and +then she remembered the jelly.</p> + +<p>"I hasn't been a-touchin' your 'serves, +gamma," said she.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin really did not know what +to do,—Flyaway's conscience was <i>so</i> little +and folded away in so many thicknesses, +like a tiny pearl in a whole box of cotton +wool. How could anybody get at it?</p> + +<p>"Gamma, I hasn't been a-touchin' your +'serves," repeated the little thief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, don't tell me that," said grandma, +sadly; "I see it in your eye!"</p> + +<p>"What, gamma, the <i>'serves</i> in my eye?" +said Flyaway, putting up her finger to find +out for herself. "'Cause I put 'em in my +<i>mouf</i>, I did."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin washed the little pilferer's +face and hands, took her in her lap, and +tried to feel her way through the cotton +wool to the tiny conscience.</p> + +<p>The child looked up and listened to all +the good words, and when they had been +spoken over and over, this was what she +said:—</p> + +<p>"O, gamma, you's got such pitty little +wrinkles!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>RUNNING AWAY TO HEAVEN.</h3> + + +<p>About ten o'clock one morning, Flyaway +was sitting in the little green chamber +with Dotty Dimple and Jennie Vance, +bathing her doll's feet in a glass of water. +Dinah had a dreadful headache, and her +forehead was bandaged with a red ribbon.</p> + +<p>"<i>Does</i> you feel any better?" asked Flyaway, +tenderly, from time to time; but +Dinah had such a habit of never answering, +that it was of no use to ask her any +questions.</p> + +<p>Dotty Dimple and Jennie were talking +very earnestly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do wish I did know where Charlie +Gray is!" said Dotty, looking through the +open window at a bird flying far aloft into +the blue sky.</p> + +<p>"You do know," answered Jennie, quickly; +"he's in heaven."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course; but so high up—O, +so high up," sighed Dotty, "it makes you +dizzy to think."</p> + +<p>"Can um see we?" struck in little Flyaway, +holding to Dinah's flat nose a bottle +of reviving soap suds.</p> + +<p>"Prudy says it's beautiful to be dead," +added Dotty, without heeding the question; +"beautiful to be dead."</p> + +<p>"Shtop!" cried Flyaway; "I's a-talkin'. +Does um see <i>we</i>?"</p> + +<p>"O, I don' know, Fly Clifford; you'll +have to ask the minister."</p> + +<p>Flyaway squeezed the water from Dinah's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +ragged feet, and dropped her under the +table, headache and all. Then she tipped +over the goblet, and flew to the window.</p> + +<p>"The Charlie boy likes canny seeds; +I'll send him some," said she, pinning a +paper of sugared spices to the window curtain, +and drawing it up by means of the +tassel. "O, dear, um don't go high enough. +Charlie won't get 'em."</p> + +<p>"Why, what is that baby trying to do?" +said Dotty Dimple.</p> + +<p>"Charlie's defful high up," murmured Flyaway, +heaving a little sigh; "can't get the +canny seeds."</p> + +<p>"O, what a Fly! How big do you s'pose +her mind is, Jennie Vance?"</p> + +<p>"Big as a thimble, perhaps," replied +Jennie, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Why, I shouldn't think, now, 'twas +any larger than the head of a pin," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +Dotty, with decision; "s'poses heaven is +top o' this room! Why, Jennie Vance, I +<i>persume</i> it's ever so much further off 'n +Mount Blue—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"O, yes, indeed! What queer ideas +such children do have! Flyaway doesn't +understand but very little we say, Dotty +Dimple; not but very little."</p> + +<p>Flyaway turned round with one of her +wise looks. She thought she did understand; +at any rate she was catching every +word, and stowing it away in her little bit +of a brain for safe keeping. Heaven was +on Mount Blue. She had learned so much.</p> + +<p>"But I knowed it by-fore," said she to +herself, with a proud toss of the silky +plume on the crown of her head.</p> + +<p>"Shall we take her with us?" asked +Jennie Vance.</p> + +<p>Flyaway listened eagerly; she thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +they were still talking of heaven, when +in truth Jennie only meant a concert which +was to be given that afternoon at the +vestry.</p> + +<p>"Take <i>that</i> little snip of a child!" replied +Dotty; "O, no; she isn't big enough; +'twouldn't be any use to pay money for +<i>her!</i>"</p> + +<p>With which very cutting remark Dotty +swept out of the room, in her queenly +way, followed by Jennie. Flyaway threw +herself across a pillow, and moaned,—</p> + +<p>"O, dee, dee!"</p> + +<p>Her little heart was ready to bleed; +and this wasn't the first time, either. +Those great big girls were always running +away from her, and calling her "goosies" +and "snips;" and now they meant to climb +to heaven, where Charlie was, and leave +her behind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I won't stay down here in this +place; I'll go to heaven too, now, <i>cerdily</i>!" +She sprang from the pillow and +stood on one foot, like a strong-minded +little robin that will not be trifled with +by a worm. "I'll go too, now, cerdily."</p> + +<p>Having made up her mind, she hurried +as fast as she could, and tucked a stick +of candy in her pocket, also the bottle of +soap suds, and two thirds of a "curly +cookie" shaped like a leaf. "Charlie would +be so glad to see Fly-wer!" She purred +like a contented kitten as she thought about +it. "'Haps they've got a <i>bossy-cat</i> up +there, and a piggy, and a swing. O, my +shole!"</p> + +<p>There was no time to be lost. Flyaway +must overtake the girls, and, if possible, +get to heaven before they did. She +flew about like a distracted butterfly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must have some skipt; her said me's +too little to pay for money;" and she curled +her pretty red lip; "but I'm isn't much +little; man'll <i>want</i> some skipt."</p> + +<p>For she fancied somebody standing at +the door of heaven holding out his hand +like the ticket-man at the depot. She +found her mother's purse in the writing-desk, +and scattered its contents into the +wash-bowl, then picked out the wettest +"skipt," a five-dollar bill, and tucked it +into her bosom. This would make it all +right at the door of heaven.</p> + +<p>"Now my spetty-curls," she added, hunting +in the "uppest drawer" till she found +the eyeless spectacles used for playing "old +lady." With these on, Flyaway thought +she could see the way a great deal better. +Horace's boots would help her up hill; +so she jumped into those, and clattered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +down the back stairs with Dinah under +her arm.</p> + +<p>There was nobody in the kitchen, for +Ruthie was down cellar sweeping. Flyaway +caught her shaker off the "short nail," +and stole out without being seen. Sitting +in the sun on the piazza was the "blue" +kittie. "Finkin' 'bout a mouse, I spect," +said little Flyaway, seizing her and blowing +open her eyes like a couple of rosebuds.</p> + +<p>"Does you know where I's a-goin'? Up +to heaven. We don't let tinty folks, like +cats, go to heaven."</p> + +<p>Pussy winked sorrowfully at this, and +baby's tender heart was touched.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we does," said she; "but you +musn't scwatch the Charlie boy;" and she +tucked the "tinty folks" under her left +arm. Then all was ready, and the little +pilgrim started for heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Um's on the toppest hill," said she, +looking at the far-off mountains, reaching +up against the blue sky. One mountain +was much higher than the others, and on +that she fixed her eye. It was Mount +Blue, and was really twenty miles away. +If Flyaway should ever reach that cloud-capped +peak, it was not her wee, wee feet +which would carry her there. But the baby +had no idea of distances. She went out +of the yard as fast as the big boots would +allow. She felt as brave as a little fly +trying to walk the whole length of the +Chinese Wall.</p> + +<p>Where were Dotty Dimple and Jennie +Vance? O, they were half way to heaven +by this time; she must "hurry quick."</p> + +<p>The fact was, they were "up in the +Pines," picking strawberries. Nobody saw +Flyaway but a caterpillar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, my shole! there's a <i>catty-pillow</i>—what +he want, you fink?"</p> + +<p>Kitty winked and Dinah sulked, but +there was no reply.</p> + +<p>The next thing they met was a grasshopper. +"O, dee, a <i>gas-papa</i>! Where +you s'pose um goin'?"</p> + +<p>Kitty winked again and Dinah sulked.</p> + +<p>Flyaway answered her own question. +"Diny, dat worm gone see his mamma."</p> + +<p>Dinah did not care anything about the +family feelings of the "worms;" so she +kept her red silk mouth shut; but she +grew very heavy—so heavy, indeed, that +once her little mother dropped her in the +sand, but picking her up, shook her and +trudged on. Presently she dropped something +else, and this time it was the kitty. +Flyaway turned about in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Shtop," cried she, scowling through her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +"spetty-curls," as she saw three white paws +and one blue one go tripping over the +road. "Shtop!" But the paws kept on.</p> + +<p>"O, Diny," said Flyaway, as pussy's tail +disappeared round a corner,—"O, Diny, +her don't want to go to heaven!"</p> + +<p>Then Flyaway sat down in the sand, +and pulled off one of the big boots.</p> + +<p>"Um won't walk," said she; but, before +she had time to pull off the second one, +a dog came along and frightened her so +she tried to run, though she only hopped +on one foot, and dragged the other. She +did not know what the matter was till she +fell down and the boot came off of itself, +after which she could walk very well. +What cared she that both "Hollis's" new +boots were left in the road, ready to be +crushed by wagon wheels?</p> + +<p>She kept on and kept on; but where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +was that blue hill going to? It moved +faster than she did.</p> + +<p>"Makes me povokin'," said she, giving +Dinah a shake. "Um runs away and away, +and all off!"</p> + +<p>Sometimes she remembered she was going +to heaven, and sometimes she forgot it. She +was on the way to the "Pines," and many +little flowers grew by the road-side. She +began to pick a few, but the thorns on the +raspberry bushes tore her tender hands, +and one of the naughty branches caught +Dinah by the frizzly hair, and carried her +under. What did Flyaway spy behind +the bushes? Dotty Dimple and Jennie +Vance. They were eating wintergreen +leaves; they did not see her. Flyaway +kept as still as if she were sitting for a +photograph, picked up Dinah, gave her a +hug, and crept on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>She went so quietly that nobody heard +her. When she was out of sight she purred +for joy. She had got ahead of the girls +on the way to heaven! She took the stick +of candy out of her pocket and nibbled it +to celebrate the occasion. "A little hump-backed +bumblebee" saw her do it. He +wanted some too, and followed Flyaway +as if she had been a moving honeysuckle. +For half a mile or more she "gaed" and +she "gaed," all the while nibbling the +candy; but now she was growing very +tired, and did it to comfort herself. Suddenly +she remembered it was Charlie's candy. +She held it up to her tearful eyes.</p> + +<p>"O dee," said she, "it was big, but it +keeps a-gettin' little!"</p> + +<p>The hungry bumblebee, who was just +behind her, thought this was his last chance: +so he pounced down upon Charlie's candy;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +and being cross, and not knowing Flyaway +from any other little girl, he stung her on +the thumb. Then how she cried, "'Orny +'ting me! 'Orny 'ting me!" for she had +been treated just so before by a hornet. +"O my dee mamma! My dee mamma!"</p> + +<p>But her "dee" mamma could not hear +her; she was in the city of Augusta; and +as for the rest of the family, they supposed +Flyaway was playing "catch" with Dotty +Dimple in the barn.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>"A RAILROAD SAVAGE."</h3> + + +<p>It now occurred to little Flyaway, with +a sudden pang, that she must have come +to the end of the world. "Yes, cerdily!" +The world was full of folks and houses,—this +place was nothing but trees. The +world had horses and wagons in it,—this +place hadn't. "O dee!"</p> + +<p>Where was the hill gone, on the top of +which stood that big house they called heaven,—the +house where Charlie lived and +played in the garden? Why, that hill had +just walked off, and the house too! She parted +the bushes and peeped through. Nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +to be seen but trees. Flyaway began to cry +from sheer fright, as well as pain. "'Tis +a defful day! I can't <i>stay</i> in this day!"</p> + +<p>More trouble had come to her than she +knew how to bear; but worst of all was +the cruel stab of the bumblebee. She +pitied her aching "fum," and kissed it +herself to make it feel better; but all in +vain; "the pain kept on and on;" the +"fum" grew big as fast as the candy had +grown little.</p> + +<p>"Somebody don't take 'are o' me," wailed +she; "somebody gone off, lef' me alone!"</p> + +<p>She was dreadfully hungry. "When <i>was</i> +it be dinner time?" She would not have +been in the least surprised, but very much +pleased, if a bird had flown down with a +plate of roast lamb in his bill, and set it +on the ground before her. Simple little +Flyaway! Or if her far-away mother had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +sprung out from behind a tree with a bed +in her arms, the tired baby would have +jumped into the bed and asked no questions.</p> + +<p>But nothing of the sort came to pass. +Here she was, without any heaven or any +mother; and the great yellow sun was +creeping fast down the sky.</p> + +<p>"I'm tired out and sleepy out," wailed +the young traveller, the tears rolling over +the rims of her "spetty-curls,"—"all sleepy +out; and I can't get rested 'thout—my—muvver!"</p> + +<p>She sat down and hid her head in her +black dolly's bosom.</p> + +<p>"Diny, you got some ears? We wasn't +here by-fore!"</p> + +<p>This was all the way she had of saying +she was lost.</p> + +<p>The sky suddenly grew dark; a shower +was coming up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where has the bwight sun gone?" said +Flyaway, with a shudder.</p> + +<p>She was answered by a peal of thunder,—wagon-wheels, +she supposed.</p> + +<p>"Here I is!" shouted she.</p> + +<p>Some one had come for her. Perhaps +it was Charlie, and they meant to give her +a ride up to heaven. A flash of light, and +then another crash. Flyaway understood +it then. It was logs. People were rolling +logs up in the sky, on the blue floor. She +had seen logs in a mill. Such a noise!</p> + +<p>Then she dropped fast asleep, and somebody +came right down out of the clouds +and gave her a peach turnover as big as +a dinner basket, or so she thought. Just +as she was about to cut it, she was awakened +by the rain dripping into her eyes. +She started up, exclaiming, "If you pees +um, I want some cheese um."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the turnover had gone! Then the +feeling of desolation swept over her again. +She had come to the end of the world, +and dinner, and mother, and heaven had +all gone off and left her.</p> + +<p>"O, Diny," sobbed she, turning to her +unfeeling dolly for sympathy. "I's free +years old, and you's one years old. Don't +you want to go to heaven, Diny, and sit +in God's lap? What a great big lap he +must have!"</p> + +<p>A gust of wind lifted the frizzles on +Dinah's forehead, but that was all.</p> + +<p>"O dee, dee, dee! you don't hear nuffin +'t all, Diny," said Flyaway—the only sensible +remark she had made that day. It +was of no use talking to Dinah; so she +began to talk to herself.</p> + +<p>"What you matter, Flywer Clifford?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +said she, scowling to keep her courage up. +"What you matter?"</p> + +<p>And after she had said that, she cried +harder than ever, and crept under the +bushes, moaning like a wounded lamb.</p> + +<p>"I'm defful wetter, but I'm colder'n I's +wetter; makes me shivvle!"</p> + +<p>After a while the clouds had poured out +all the rain there was in them, and left +the sky as clear as it was before; but by +that time the sun had gone to bed, and +the little birds too, sending out their good +nights from tree to tree. Then the new +moon came, and peeped over the shoulder +of a hill at Flyaway. She sprang out from +the bushes like a rabbit.</p> + +<p>"O, my shole!" cried she, clapping her +hands, "the sun's camed again! A little +bit o' sun. I sawed it!"</p> + +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_04.jpg" alt="Lost in the Woods." width="600" height="382" /><br /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Lost in the Woods</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<p>Inspired with new courage, she and +Dinah concluded to start for home; that +is to say, they turned round three or +four times, and then struck off into the +woods.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Now you may be sure all this could not +happen without causing great alarm at +grandpa Parlin's. When the dinner bell +rang, everybody asked, twice over, "Why, +where is little Fly?" and Dotty Dimple +answered, as innocently as if it were none +of her affairs,—</p> + +<p>"Why, isn't she in the house? We +s'posed she was. Jennie Vance and I have +just been out in the garden, under your +little <i>crying willow</i>, making a wreath. +Thought she was in the barn, or somewhere."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't been in the garden all +the while?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No'm; once we went up in the Pines,—grandma, +you said we might,—but we +haven't seen Fly,—why, we haven't seen +her for the longest while!"</p> + +<p>Grace had dropped her knife and fork +and was looking pale.</p> + +<p>"It was Susy and I that had the care +of her, grandma; when you went out to +see the sick lady, you charged us, and +we forgot all about it."</p> + +<p>"Pretty works, I should think!" cried +Horace, springing out of his chair; "I +wouldn't sell that baby for her weight in +gold; but I reckon <i>you</i> would, Grace Clifford, +and be glad of it, too."</p> + +<p>Grandma held up a warning finger. "I +declare," said aunt Louise, very much agitated, +"I never shall consent to have Maria +go out of town again, and leave Katie with +us. If she will try to swim in the watering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>-trough, +she is just as likely to take a walk +on the ridgepole of the house."</p> + +<p>Horace darted out of the room with a +ghastly face, but came back looking relieved. +He had been up in the attic, and +climbed through the scuttle, without finding +any human Fly on the roof, or on the +dizzy tops of the chimneys, either.</p> + +<p>But where was the child? Had Ruth +seen her? Had Abner?</p> + +<p>No; the last that could be remembered, +she had been playing by herself in the +green chamber, soaking Dinah's feet in a +glass of water. The "blue kitty," the only +creature who had anything to tell, sat +washing her face on the kitchen hearth, +and yawning sleepily. Fly's shaker was +gone from the "short nail," and aunt Louise +discovered some bank-bills in a wash-bowl,—"Fly's +work, of course." But this +was all they knew.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grandpa searched the barn, Abner the +fields, Ruth the cellar; aunt Louise and +Horace ran down to the river. In half +an hour several of the neighbors had joined +in the search.</p> + +<p>"I always thought there would be a last +time," said poor Mrs. Dr. Gray, putting +on her black bonnet, and joining Grace +and Susy. "That child seems to me like +a little spirit, or a fairy, and I never thought +she would live long. She and Charlie +were too lovely for this world."</p> + +<p>"O, <i>don't</i>, Mrs. Gray," said Grace. "If +you knew how often she'd been lost, you +would not say so! We always find her, +after a while, somewhere."</p> + +<p>Horace, who had gone on in advance, +now came running back, swinging his boots +in the air.</p> + +<p>"A trail!" cried he. "I've found a trail!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Who planted these boots in the road, if +it wasn't Fly Clifford?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she has gone to aunt Martha's," +said Mrs. Parlin, "or tried to. +Strange we did not think of that!"</p> + +<p>But aunt Martha had not seen her, nor +had any one else. Horace and Abner went +up to the Pines, but the forest beyond they +never thought of exploring; it did not +seem probable that such a small child +could have strolled to such a distance as +that.</p> + +<p>Supper time came and went. There was +a short thunder-shower. The Parlins shuddered +at every flash of lightning, and shivered +at every drop of rain; for where was +delicate, lost little Fly?</p> + +<p>Abner and Horace were out during the +shower. Horace would have braved hur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>ricanes +and avalanches in the cause of his +dear little Topknot.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing we haven't thought +of," said Abner, shaking the drops from +his hat and looking up at the sky, which +had cleared again; "we haven't thought of +the railroad surveyors! They are round +the town everywhere with their compasses +and spy-glasses."</p> + +<p>It was not a bad idea of Abner's. He +and Horace went to the hotel where the +railroad men boarded. The engineer's face +lighted at once.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had known before there was +a child missing," he said. "I saw the +figure of a little girl, through my glass, +not an hour ago. It was a long way beyond +the Pines, and I wondered how such +a baby happened up there; but I had so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +much else to think of that it passed out +of my mind."</p> + +<p>About eight o'clock, Flyaway was found +in the woods, sound asleep, under a hemlock +tree, her faithful Dinah hugged close +to her heart.</p> + +<p>There was a shout from a dozen mouths. +Horace's eyes overflowed. He caught his +beloved pet in his arms.</p> + +<p>"O, little Topknot!" he cried. "Who's +got you? Look up, look up, little Brown-brimmer."</p> + +<p>All Flyaway could do was to sob gently, +and then curl her head down on her brother's +shoulder, saying, sleepily, "Cold, ou' +doors stayin'."</p> + +<p>"Why did our darling run away?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't yun away; I's goin' up to +heaven see Charlie," replied Flyaway, suddenly +remembering the object of her jour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>ney, +and gazing around at Abner, Dr. +Gray, and the other people, with eyes full +of wonder. "Where's the toppest hill? I's +goin' up, carry Charlie some canny."</p> + +<p>The people formed a line, and, as Prudy +said, "processed" behind Katie all the way +to the village.</p> + +<p>"Is we goin' to heaven?" said the child, +still bewildered. "It yunned away and +away, and all off!"</p> + +<p>"No, you blessed baby, you are not +going to heaven just yet, if we can help +it," answered Dr. Gray, leaning over Horace's +shoulder to kiss the child.</p> + +<p>Flyaway was too tired to ask any more +questions. She let first one person carry +her, and then another, sometimes holding +up her swollen thumb, and murmuring, +"'Orny 'ting me—tell my mamma." And +after that she was asleep again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dotty Dimple, Susy, and Prudy were +pacing the piazza when the party arrived, +but poor grandma was on the sofa in the +parlor, quite overcome with anxiety and +fatigue, and Miss Polly Whiting was mournfully +fanning her with a black feather fan. +The sound of voices roused Mrs. Parlin. +"Safe! safe!" was the cry. Dotty Dimple +rushed in, shouting, "A railroad savage +found her! a railroad savage found +her!"</p> + +<p>In another moment the runaway was in +her grandmother's lap. All she could say +was, "'Orny 'ting me on my fum! 'Orny +'ting me on my fum!" For this one +little bite of a bee seemed greater to Flyaway +Clifford than all the dangers she had +passed. If grandma would only kiss her +"fum," it was no matter about going to +heaven, or even being undressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>But after she had had a bowl of bread +and milk, and been nicely bathed, she forgot +her sufferings, and laughed in her +sleep. She was dreaming how Charlie +came to the door of heaven and helped +her up the steps.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>EAST AGAIN.</h3> + + +<p>A whole year passed. Dotty Dimple +became a school-girl, with a "bosom friend" +and a pearl ring. Prudy, who called herself +"the middle-aged sister," grew tall and +slender. Katie was four years old, and +just a little heavier, so she no longer +needed a cent in her pocket to keep her +from blowing away.</p> + +<p>The Parlins had been at Willowbrook a +week before the Cliffords arrived. There +was a great sensation over Katie. She was +delighted to hear that she had grown more +than any of the others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm gettin' old all over!" said she, +gayly. "Four—goin' to be five! Wish +I was most six. Dotty Dimpul, don't you +wish <i>you's</i> most a <i>hunderd</i>?"</p> + +<p>"O, you cunning little cousin!" said +Dotty, embracing her rapturously; "I wish +you loved me half as well as I love you; +that's what I wish. I told Tate Penny +you were prettier than Tid; and so you +are. Such red cheeks! But what makes +one cheek redder than the other?"</p> + +<p>"O, I eat my bread 'n' milk that side o' +my mouf," replied Flyaway; "and that's +why."</p> + +<p>"What an idea! And your hair is just +as fine as ever it was; the color of my +ring—isn't it, Prudy?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway put her little hand to her head, +and felt the floss flying about as usual.</p> + +<p>"My hair comes all to pieces," explained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +she; "<i>or nelse</i> I have a ribbon to tie it +up with."</p> + +<p>"Are you glad to come back to Willowbrook, +you precious little dear?" asked +two or three voices.</p> + +<p>"Yes 'm," said Flyaway, doubtfully; +"Y—es—um."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't remember anything about +it, I guess," said Prudy, kneeling before +the little one, and kissing the sweet place +in her neck.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Flyaway, winking +hard and breathing quick in the effort to +recall the very dim and very distant past; +"yes, I 'member."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you 'member?"</p> + +<p>"O, once I was grindin' coffee out there +in a yellow chair, and somebody she came +and put me in the sink."</p> + +<p>"She does know—doesn't she?" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +Dotty. "That was Ruthie; come out in +the kitchen and see her."</p> + +<p>But when Flyaway first looked into Ruth's +smiling face, with its black eyes and sharp +nose, she could not remember that she had +ever seen it before. Abner, too, was +strange to her.</p> + +<p>"Come here," said he, "and I can tell +in a minute if you are a good little girl."</p> + +<p>Flyaway cast down her soft eyes, and +sidled along to Abner.</p> + +<p>"Here, touch this watch," said he, "and +if you are a good little girl it will fly open; +if you are naughty it will stay shut."</p> + +<p>Flyaway looked askance at Abner, her +finger in her mouth, but dared not touch +the watch.</p> + +<p>"Who'd 'a thought it, now?" said Abner, +pretending to be shocked. "Looks +to be a nice child; but of course she isn't,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +or she'd come right up and open the +watch."</p> + +<p>Flyaway thrust another finger in her +mouth, and pressed her eyelids slowly together. +Abner did not understand this, +but it meant that he had not treated her +with proper respect.</p> + +<p>"Here, Ruth," said he, in a low tone, +"hand me one of your plum tarts; that'll +fetch her.—Come here, my pretty one, +and see what's inside of this little pie."</p> + +<p>Flyaway was very hungry. She took a +step forward, and held her hand out, though +rather timidly.</p> + +<p>"But she mustn't eat it without asking +her mamma," said Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes; O, yes," cried Miss Flyaway, +opening her little mouth for the first time, +and shutting it again over a big bite of +tart; "I want to eat it and <i>s'prise</i> my +mamma."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Abner laughed in his hearty fashion. +"Some of the old mischief left there yet," +said he, catching Flyaway and tossing her +to the ceiling. "Have you come here this +summer to keep the whole house in commotion? +Remember the Charlie boy—don't +you—that had the meal-bags tied +to his feet?"</p> + +<p>"Did he? What for?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway had not the least recollection +of Charlie; but Horace had talked to her +about him, and she said, after a moment's +thought,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, he washed the pig. Me and +Charlie, we played all everything what we +thinked about."</p> + +<p>"So you did, surely," said a woman +who had just come in at the back door, +and begun to drop kisses, as sad as tears, +on Flyaway's forehead. "Do you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +who this is?" Flyaway looked up with a +sweet smile, but her mind had lost all impression +of her melancholy friend, Miss +Whiting. "Look again," said the sad-eyed +stranger, who did not like to have +even a little child forget her; "you used +to call me the 'Polly woman.'"</p> + +<p>Katie looked again, and this time very +closely.</p> + +<p>"There's a great deal o' yellowness in +your face," exclaimed she, after a careful +survey; "but you was made so!"</p> + +<p>Miss Polly laughed drearily. "So you +don't remember how I took you out of +the watering-trough, you sweet lamb! 'I's +tryin' to swim,' you said; 'and <i>that's</i> what +is it.' Here's a summer-sweeting for you, +dear; do you like them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, thank you," said Flyaway, "but +I like summer-<i>sourings</i> the best."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the same time she allowed herself to +be taken in Miss Polly's lap, and won that +tender-hearted woman's love by putting her +arms round her neck, and saying, "Let +me kiss you so you'll feel all better. What +makes you have tears in your eyes?—tell +me."</p> + +<p>"We're good friends—I knew we +should be," said Miss Polly, quite cheerily. +"Look out of the window, and see that +swing. How many times I've pushed you +and Dotty in that swing when it seemed +as if it would break my back!"</p> + +<p>Flyaway looked out. There stood the +two trees, and between them hung the old +swing; but the charm was forgotten. In +the field beyond, her eye fell on an object +more interesting to her.</p> + +<p>"O, O," said she, "I don't see how God +<i>could</i> make a man so homebly as that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So homely as what?"</p> + +<p>"Why," laughed Dotty, "she means that +scarecrow."</p> + +<p>The corn was up long ago, but one direful +image had still been left to flaunt in +the sunlight and soak in the rain.</p> + +<p>"That isn't a man," said Prudy; "it's +only a great monstrous rag baby, with a +coat on."</p> + +<p>"Put there to frighten away the crows," +added Miss Polly. "When Abner dropped +corn in the ground, the great black crows +wanted to come and pick it out, and eat +it up."</p> + +<p>Flyaway frowned in token of strong dislike +to the crows. "I wouldn't eat gampa's +corn for anything in this world," said +she,—"'thout it's popped! 'Cause I don't +like it."</p> + +<p>Miss Polly laughed quite merrily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There," said she, "I've dropped a stitch +in my side; it never agrees with me to +laugh. I must be going right home, too; +but there is one thing more I want to ask +you, Katie; do you remember how you +ran away, one day, and frightened the whole +house, trying to climb up to heaven?"</p> + +<p>Katie's face was blank; she had forgotten +the journey.</p> + +<p>"You passed Jennie Vance and me in +the Pines," said Dotty, "and went deep +into the woods, and a bee stung you."</p> + +<p>"O, now I 'member," said Katie, suddenly. +"I 'member the bee as plain as 'tever +'twas!" And she curled her lip with contempt +for that small Flyaway, of long ago—that +silly baby who had thought heaven +was on a hill.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> went up on a ladder when I was three +years old," said Prudy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you?" said Flyaway. This was +a consolation. "Well, I was three years +old, too; I didn't know 'bout angels—didn't +know they had to have wings on."</p> + +<p>Here Flyaway curled her lip again and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"You are wiser now," sighed Miss Polly. +"You and I won't try to go to heaven till +our time comes—will we, dear?"</p> + +<p>Katie took Miss Polly's large, thin hand, +and measured it beside her own tiny one.</p> + +<p>"Miss Polly," said she, with one of her +extremely wise looks, "when you go up +to God you'll be a very little girl!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed!" said Miss Polly, weaving +the third pin into her shawl; "how do +you make that out?"</p> + +<p>"Your body'll all be cut off," replied +Katie, making the motion of a pair of scissors +with her fingers; "all be cut right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +straight off; there won't be nuffin' left but +just your little spirit!"</p> + +<p>"Since you know so much, dear, how +large is my spirit?"</p> + +<p>Katie put her hand on the left side of +the belt of her apron.</p> + +<p>"Don't you call that small, right under +my hand a-beatin'?" said she. "'Bout's +big as a bird, Miss Polly. Little round +ball for a head, little mites o' eyes; but +you won't care—you can see <i>just</i> as well."</p> + +<p>"It does beat all where children get such +queer ideas—doesn't it, Ruth?" said Miss +Whiting.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know it?" cried Katie, finding +she had startled Miss Polly. "Didn't +you know you's goin' to be little, and fly +in the air just so?" throwing up her arms. +"I want to go dreffully, for there's a gold +harp o' music up there, and I'll play on it: +it'll be mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't feel in a hurry to die, I +hope," said Miss Polly, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Katie's eager face clouded. "No," said +she, sorrowfully; "I want to, but I hate +to go up to God and leave my pink dress. +I can't go into it then, I'll be so little."</p> + +<p>"You'll be just big enough to go into +the pocket," laughed Dotty.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Miss Polly, gravely; "you +shouldn't joke upon such serious subjects. +Good by, children. Your house is full of +company, and I didn't come to stay. Here's +a bag of thoroughwort I've been picking +for your grandmother; you may give it to +her with my love, and tell her my side is +worse. I shall be in to-morrow."</p> + +<p>So saying, Miss Polly went away, seeming +to be wafted out of the room on a +sigh.</p> + +<p>The high-chair was brought down from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +the attic for Flyaway, who sat in it that +evening at the tea-table, and smiled round +upon her friends in the most benevolent +manner.</p> + +<p>"I's growing so big now, mamma," said +she, coaxingly, "don't you spect I must +have some tea?"</p> + +<p>Grandmother pleaded for the youngest, +too. "Let me give her some just this +once, Maria."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>white</i> tea, then," returned Mrs. +Clifford, smiling; "and will Flyaway remember +not to ask for it again? Mamma +thinks little girls should drink milk."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I won't never. She gives it +to me <i>this</i> night, 'cause I's her little <i>grand-girl</i>. +Mayn't Hollis have it too, 'cause he's +her little grand-<i>boy</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Cunning as ever, you see," whispered +the admiring Horace to cousin Susy, who +replied, rather indifferently,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"No cunninger than our Prudy used to +be."</p> + +<p>Flyaway made quick work of drinking +her white tea, and when she came to the +last few drops she swung her cup round +and round, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know, Hollis, that's the way +gampa does, when <i>he</i> gets most froo, to +make it sweet?"</p> + +<p>No, Horace had not noticed; it was +"Fly, with her little eye," who saw everything, +and made remarks about it.</p> + +<p>"O, O," cried Grace, dropping her knife +and fork, and patting her hands softly +under the table, "isn't it so nice to be at +Willowbrook again, taking supper together? +Doesn't it remind you of pleasant +things, Susy, to eat grandma's cream toast?"</p> + +<p>"Reminds me," said Susy, after reflecting, +"of jumping on the hay."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Minds me of—of—" remarked Flyaway; +and there she fell into a brown +study, with her head swaying from side +to side.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it is," said Prudy, +"but since you spoke, this cream toast +makes me think of the rag-bag. Excuse +me for being impolite, grandma, but where +<i>is</i> the rag-bag?"</p> + +<p>"In the back room, dear, where it always +is; and you may wheel it off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>It had been Mrs. Parlin's custom, once +or twice every summer, to allow the children +to take the large, heavy rag-bag to +the store, and sell its contents for little +articles, which they divided among themselves. +Sometimes the price of the rags +amounted to half or three quarters of a +dollar, and there was a regular carnival of +figs, candy, and fire-crackers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Horace was so much older now, that +he did not fancy the idea of being seen in +the street, trundling a wheelbarrow; but +he went on with his cream toast and made +no remark.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE RAG-BAG.</h3> + + +<p>Next morning there was a loud call from +the three Parlins for the rag-bag, in which +Flyaway joined, though she hardly knew +the difference between a rag-bag and a paper +of pins.</p> + +<p>"I wish you to understand, girls," said +Horace, flourishing his hat, "that I'm not +going to cart round any such trash for you +this summer."</p> + +<p>"Now, Horace!"</p> + +<p>"You know, Gracie, you belong to a +Girls' Rights' Society. Do you suppose I +want to interfere with your privileges?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Horace Clifford, you wouldn't see +your own sister trundling a wheelbarrow?"</p> + +<p>"O, no; I shan't be there," said Horace, +coolly; "I shan't see you. I promised to +weed the verbena bed for your aunt Louise. +Good by, girls. Success to the rag-bag!"</p> + +<p>"Let's catch him!" cried Susy, darting +after her ungallant cousin; but he ran so +fast, and flourished his garden hoe so recklessly, +that she gave up the chase.</p> + +<p>"Let him go," said Grace, with a fine-lady +air: "who cares about rag-bags? +We've outgrown that sort of thing, you +and I, Susy; let the little girls have our +share."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure," replied Susy, faintly, +though not without a pang, for she still +retained a childish fondness for jujube paste, +and was not allowed a great abundance of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +pocket-money. "Yes, to be sure, let the +<i>little</i> girls have our share."</p> + +<p>"Then may we three youngest have the +whole rag-bag?" said Prudy, brightly. +"Dotty, you and I will trundle the wheelbarrow, +and Fly shall go behind."</p> + +<p>"What an idea!" exclaimed Grace. "I've +seen little beggar children drawing a dog-cart. +Grandma'll never allow such a thing."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will," said grandma, tying on +her checked apron. "Dog-carts or wheel-barrows, +so they only take care not to be +rude. In a city it is different."</p> + +<p>"Yes, grandma," said Dotty, twisting her +front hair joyfully; "but here in the country +they want little girls to have good +times—don't they? Why don't everybody +move into the country, do you s'pose? +Lots of bare spots round here,—nothing +on 'em but cows."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, nuffin' but gampa's cows," chimed +in Flyaway, twisting <i>her</i> front hair.</p> + +<p>"Louisa," said Mrs. Parlin, "you may +help me about this loaf of 'Maine plum +cake,' and while you are beating the butter +and sugar I will look over the rag-bag. +Dotty, please run for my spectacles."</p> + +<p>When Dotty returned with the spectacles, +Jennie Vance came with her, pouting +a little at the cool reception she had met, +and thinking Miss Dimple hardly polite +because she was too much interested in +an old rag-bag to pay proper attention to +visitors.</p> + +<p>"Grandma, what makes you pick over +these rags? We can take them just as they +are."</p> + +<p>"I always do so, my dear, and for several +reasons. One is, that woollen pieces +may have crept in by mistake. As we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +profess to sell cotton rags, it would be +dishonest to mix them with woollen."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I understand," said Jennie, who +often spoke when it was quite as well to +keep silent; "it's always best to be honest—isn't +it, Mrs. Parlin?"</p> + +<p>The rags were spread out upon the table, +giving Flyaway a fine opportunity to scatter +them right and left.</p> + +<p>"O, here's a splendid piece of blue ribbon +to make my doll a bonnet," said Dotty.</p> + +<p>"That's another reason why she picks +'em over," remarked Jennie; "so she won't +waste things. Only, Dotty, that has got +an awful grease-spot."</p> + +<p>"There, children," said Mrs. Parlin, presently, +"I have taken out a card of hooks +and eyes, a flannel bandage, and a shoe-string. +You may have everything else."</p> + +<p>Dotty caught her grandmother's arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +"Please, grandma, don't sweep 'em into +the bag; let us look some more. I've just +found a big Lisle glove; if I can find another, +then Abner can go blackberrying; he +says his hands are ever so tender."</p> + +<p>"And you thought he was in earnest," +said Prudy. "While you are looking, +I'll go into the nursery and finish that +holder."</p> + +<p>Flyaway, having climbed upon the table, +had rolled herself into some mosquito netting, +like a caterpillar in a cocoon. They +were all so much interested, that grandma, +in the kindness of her heart, did not like +to disturb them.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome to all the treasures +you can find, but as soon as the cake is +made I shall want the table; so be quick," +said she, looking out from the pantry, where +she was beating eggs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, grandma, we'll hurry; and +may we have every single thing we like +the looks of? now, honest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dotty."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Parlin and Miss Louise talked +about currants, and citron, and quite forgot +such trifles as rag-bags.</p> + +<p>"Here's another big glove," said Dotty, +"not the same color, but no matter; and +here are some saddle-bags, Jennie. I'm +going to be a doctor."</p> + +<p>"Saddle-bags, Dotty! those are pockets." +Jennie took them from Miss Dimple's hands. +They were held together by a narrow strip +of brown linen, and had once belonged to +a pair of pantaloons.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see if there isn't something +inside," said Jennie. "Why, yes, +here's a raisin, true's you live. And here, +in the other one,—O, Dotty!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Dotty had run into the nursery to +show Prudy a muslin cap.</p> + +<p>"A wad of—"</p> + +<p>Jennie was determined to see what; so +she unrolled it.</p> + +<p>"Scrip," cried she, holding up some +greenbacks.</p> + +<p>"Skipt," echoed Flyaway, who had come +out of the cocoon and gone into the form +of a mop, her head adorned with cotton +fringe.</p> + +<p>Yes; a two dollar bill and a one dollar +bill, as green as lettuce leaves. This was +a great marvel. Columbus was not half +so much surprised when he discovered +America.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Parlin, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Parlin heard nothing, for the +din of the egg-beating drowned both the +shrill little voices.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>A sudden idea came to Jennie. Whose +money was this? Mrs. Parlin's? No; hadn't +Mrs. Parlin looked over the rags once, +and said the children might have what was +left? "'You are welcome to all the treasures +you can find;' that was what she +said," repeated Jennie to herself. "I'm the +one that found this treasure,—not Dotty, +not Flyaway. This is honest, and I do not +lie when I say it."</p> + +<p>Jennie began to tremble, and a hot color +flew into her cheeks, and added new lustre +to her black eyes. "If I could only make +Flyaway forget it," thought she, with a +whirling sensation of anger towards the innocent +child, who knew no better than to +proclaim aloud every piece of news she +heard. "I'll make her forget it." Jenny +hastily concealed the money in the neck of +her dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where's that skipt? that skipt?" said +Flyaway.</p> + +<p>"Fly Clifford," said Jennie, severely, +"you've climbed on the table! Just think +of it! Your grandmother doesn't allow +you on her table. What made you get up +here."</p> + +<p>"'Cause," replied Flyaway, seizing the +kitty by the tail, and thrusting her into a +cabbage-net, "'cause I fought best."</p> + +<p>"But you must get right down, this +minute."</p> + +<p>"No," said Flyaway, shaking her head-dress +of white fringe with great solemnity; +"I isn't goin' to get down."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you must."</p> + +<p>Flyaway opened and shut her eyes slowly, +in token of deep displeasure. "I don't +never 'low little girls to scold to me," said +she. "You'd better call grandma; 'haps +<i>she</i> can make me get down."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it was not Jennie's purpose to wait +for that; she seized the little one roughly +by the arms, pulled her from the table, +and hurried her into the parlor.</p> + +<p>Flyaway was indignant. "Does you—feel +happy?" said she, with a reproachful +glance at Jennie.</p> + +<p>"There, look out of the window, Flyaway, +darling, and watch to see if Horace +isn't coming in from the garden."</p> + +<p>"Can't Hollis come, 'thout me watching +him?" returned Flyaway, winking slowly +again, for her sweet little soul was stirred +with wrath. The memory of the "skipt" +had indeed been driven away, and she could +only think,—</p> + +<p>"Isn't Jennie so easy fretted! I wasn't +doin' nuffin'; and then she jumped me right +down. Unpolite gell! that's one thing."</p> + +<p>And Jennie was thinking, "She nev<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>er'll +remember the money now, or, if she +does, I don't believe Mrs. Parlin will pay +any attention to what she says." Jennie +was still very much excited, and wondered +why she trembled so.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to keep it unless it's perfectly +proper," thought she; "I guess I +know the eighth commandment fast enough. +I shan't keep it unless Dotty thinks best. +I'll tell her, and see what she says."</p> + +<p>Jennie had often pilfered little things +from her mother's cupboard, such as cake +and raisins; but a piece of money of the +most trifling value she had never thought +of taking before.</p> + +<p>Leaving Flyaway busy with block houses, +she ran to the nursery door, and motioned +with her finger for Dotty to come out.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Dotty, when they +were both shut into the china closet;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +"don't you want my sister Prudy to +know?"</p> + +<p>Jennie replied, in a great flutter, "No, +no, no. You musn't tell a single soul, +Dotty Dimple, as long as you live, and +I'll give you half."</p> + +<p>"Half what?"</p> + +<p>Jennie produced the money from her +bosom, feeling, I am glad to say, very +guilty. "Out o' those saddle-bag pockets +out there," added she, breathlessly; "true's +the world."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jennie Vance!"</p> + +<p>"One had a raisin in and a button, and +nobody but me would have thought of looking. +You wouldn't—now would you? My +father says I've got such sharp eyes!"</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Dotty, who considered her +own eyes as bright as any diamonds; "you +took the saddle-bag right out of my hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +How do you know I shouldn't have peeked +in?"</p> + +<p>Jennie did not reply, but smoothed out +the wrinkled notes with many a loving pat.</p> + +<p>"What did grandma say?" asked Dotty; +"wasn't she pleased?"</p> + +<p>"Your grandmother doesn't know anything +about it, Dotty Dimple; what business +is it to her?"</p> + +<p>Jennie's tone was defiant. She assumed +a courage she was far from feeling.</p> + +<p>Dotty was speechless with surprise, but +her eyes grew as round as soap-bubbles.</p> + +<p>"The pockets don't belong to her, Dotty, +and never did. They never came out of +any of her dresses—now did they?"</p> + +<p>Dotty's eyes swelled like a couple of bubbles +ready to burst.</p> + +<p>"Jennie Vance, I didn't know you's a +thief."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You stop talking so, Dotty. She was +going to sweep everything into the rag-bag—now +wasn't she? And this money +would have gone in too, if it hadn't been +for my sharp eyes—now wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't yours, Jennie Vance—because +it don't belong to you."</p> + +<p>"Now, Dotty—"</p> + +<p>"You go right off, Jennie Vance, and +carry it to my grandma this minute."</p> + +<p>The tone of command irritated Jennie. +She had not felt at all decided about keeping +the money, but opposition gave her +courage. Her temper and Dotty's were +always meeting and striking fire.</p> + +<p>"It isn't your grandma's pockets, Miss +Parlin. If it was the last word I was to +speak, it isn't your grandmother's pockets!"</p> + +<p>"Jane Sidney Vance!"</p> + +<p>"You needn't call me by my middle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +name, and stare so at me, Dotty Dimple. +I was going to give you half!"</p> + +<p>"What do I want of half, when it isn't +yours to give?" said Dotty, gazing regretfully +at the money, nevertheless. Three +dollars! Why, it was a small fortune! +If it only did really belong to Jenny!</p> + +<p>"Your grandmother said everything we +liked the looks of, Dotty. Don't you like +the looks of this?"</p> + +<p>"But you know, Jennie—"</p> + +<p>"O, you needn't preach to me. You +wasn't the one that found it. If I'd truly +been a thief, or if I hadn't been a thief, +it would have been right for me to keep +it, and perfectly proper, and not said a +word to you, either; so there."</p> + +<p>"Jennie Vance, I'm going right out of +this closet, and tell my grandma what you've +said."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait, Dotty Dimple; let me get through +talking. I meant to buy things for your +grandmother with it. O, yes, I did—a +silk dress, and cap, and shoes."</p> + +<p>Dotty twirled her hair, and looked +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Of course I did. Wouldn't it surprise +her, when she wasn't expecting it? And +Flyaway, too,—something for her. We +wouldn't keep anything for ourselves, only +just enough to buy clothes and such things +as we really need."</p> + +<p>Before Dotty had time to reply there +was a loud scream from the parlor.</p> + +<p>"Fly is killed—she is killed!" cried +Dotty; but Jennie had presence of mind +enough to tuck the bills into the neck of +her dress.</p> + +<p>"Don't you tell anybody a word about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +it, Dotty. If you tell I'll do something +awful to you. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>Dotty heard, but did not answer. The +fate of her cousin Flyaway seemed more +important to her just then than all the +bank-bills in the world.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE WICKED GIRL.</h3> + + +<p>Flyaway had only been climbing the +outside of the staircase, and would have +done very well, if some one had not rung +the door-bell, and startled her so that she +fell from the very top stair to the floor. +It was feared, at first, that several bones +were broken and her intellect injured for +life; but after crying fifteen minutes, she +seemed to feel nearly as well as before.</p> + +<p>"If ever a child was made of thistle-down +it is Flyaway Clifford," said aunt Louise.</p> + +<p>Still it was not thought best for her to +fatigue herself that day by selling rags,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +and the wheelbarrow enterprise was put off +until the next morning.</p> + +<p>The person who rang the door-bell was +Mrs. Vance's girl Susan, who called for +Jennie to go home and try on a frock. +Jennie did not return, and Dotty had a +sense of uneasiness all day. The guilty +secret of the three dollars weighed upon +her mind. Should she, or should she not, +tell her grandmother?</p> + +<p>"I don't know but Jennie would do +something to my things if I told," thought +she; "but then I never promised a word. +Here it is four o'clock. Who knows but +she's gone and spent that money, and my +grandmother never'll know what's 'come of +it?"</p> + +<p>This possibility was very alarming. "Jennie +Vance doesn't seem to have any little +whisper inside of <i>her</i> heart, that ticks like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +a watch; but <i>I</i> have. <i>My</i> conscience pricks; +so I know that perhaps it's my duty to go +and tell."</p> + +<p>Dotty drew herself up virtuously and +looked in the glass. There she seemed to +see an angelic little girl, whose only wish +was to do just right—a little girl as much +purer than Jennie Vance, as a lily is purer +than a very ugly toadstool.</p> + +<p>Well, Miss Dotty, there is some truth +in the picture. Jennie is not a good child; +but neither are you an angel. There is +more wickedness in your proud little heart +than you will ever begin to find out. And +wait a minute. Who teaches you all you +know of right and wrong? Is it your +mother? Suppose she had died, as did +Jennie's mamma, when you were a toddling +baby?</p> + +<p>There, that's all; you do not hear a word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +I say; and if you did, you would not heed, +O, self-righteous Dotty Dimple!</p> + +<p>Dotty ran up stairs to find her grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Grandma," whispered she, though there +was no one else in the room; "something +dreadful has happened. You've lost three +dollars!"</p> + +<p>"What, dear?"</p> + +<p>"O, you needn't look in your pocket. +Jennie found 'em in the rag-bag, and tried +to make me take half; but of course I +never; and now she's run off with 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Found three dollars in the rag-bag? +I guess not."</p> + +<p>"Yes, grandma; for I saw her just as +she was going to find em', in a pair of +pockets. I should have seen 'em myself +if she hadn't looked first."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Is this really so? But she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +ought to have come and given them to +me."</p> + +<p>"That was just what I told her, over +and over, grandma, and over again. But +she's a dreadful naughty girl, Jennie Vance +is. If there's anything bad she can do, +she goes right off and does it."</p> + +<p>"Hush, my child."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I won't say any more, <i>only</i> I +don't think my mother would like to have +me play with little girls that take money +out of rag-bags."</p> + +<p>Dotty drew herself up again in a very +stately way.</p> + +<p>"Jennie <i>said</i> she was going to buy you +a silk dress and so forth; but she does +truly lie so, 'one to another,' that you can't +believe her for certain, not half she says."</p> + +<p>Grandma looked over her spectacles and +through the window, as if trying to see +what ought to be done.</p> + +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_05.jpg" alt="You can't believe her for certain." width="400" height="658" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"<span class="smcap">You can't believe her for certain</span>.</span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<p>"You did right to tell me this, my +child," said she; "but I wish you to say +nothing about it to any one else: will you +remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," replied Dotty, trying to read +her grandmother's face, and feeling a little +alarmed by its solemnity. "What you +going to do, grandma? Not put Jennie +in the lockup—are you? 'Cause if you +do—O, don't you! She said 'twas her +sharp eyes, and she didn't mean to steal, +and 'twasn't your pockets, and she promised +she'd give me half—yes, she truly +did, grandma."</p> + +<p>"Go, dear, and bring me my bonnet +from the band-box in my bed-room closet."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Parlin folded the sheet she +was making, put on her best shawl and +bonnet, and kid gloves, and taking her +sun umbrella, set out for a walk. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +was a look in her face which made her +little granddaughter think it would not be +proper to ask any questions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin met Jennie Vance coming +in at the gate.</p> + +<p>"O, dear," thought Dotty, "I don't want +to see her. Grandma says I've done right, +but Jennie'll call me a tell-tale. I'll go +out in the barn and hide."</p> + +<p>The guilty secret had lain heavy at Jennie's +heart all day. As soon as her dress-maker +could spare her, and a troublesome +little cousin had left, she asked permission +to go to Mrs. Parlin's.</p> + +<p>"Dotty thinks I meant to keep it," she +thought. "I never did see such a girl. +You can't say the least little thing but +she takes it sober earnest, and says she'll +tell her grandmother."</p> + +<p>Jennie stole round by the back door, +and timidly asked for Miss Dimple.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know where she is," +answered Ruthie, with a pleasant smile; +"nor Flyaway either. I have been living +in peace for half an hour."</p> + +<p>Ruthie made you think of lemon candy; +she was sweet and tart too.</p> + +<p>While Jennie, with the kind assistance +of Prudy, was hunting for Dotty, Mrs. +Parlin was in Judge Vance's parlor, talking +with Jennie's step-mother. Mrs. Vance +was shocked to hear of her daughter's conduct, +for she loved her and wished her to +do right.</p> + +<p>"My poor Jennie," said she; "from her +little babyhood until she was six years old, +there was no one to take care of her but +a hired nurse, who neglected her sadly."</p> + +<p>"I know just what sort of training Jennie +has had from Serena Pond," said Mrs. +Parlin; "it was most unfortunate. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +you are so faithful with her, my dear Mrs. +Vance, that I do believe she will outgrow +all those early influences."</p> + +<p>"I keep hoping so," said Mrs. Vance, +repressing a sigh; "I take it very kindly +of you, Mrs. Parlin, that you should come +to me with this affair. I shall not allow +Jennie to go to your house very often. +You do not like to wound my feelings, +but I am sure you cannot wish to have +your little granddaughter very intimate +with a child who is sly and untruthful."</p> + +<p>"My dear lady," said grandma Parlin, +taking Mrs. Vance's hand, and pressing it +warmly; "since we are talking so freely +together, and I know you are too generous +to be offended, I will confess to you that +if Jennie persists in concealing this money, +I would prefer not to have Dotty play with +her very much; at least while her mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +is not here to have the care of her." It +was hard for Mrs. Parlin to say this, and +she added presently,—</p> + +<p>"Please let Jennie spend the night at +our house. She may wish to talk with me; +we will give her the opportunity."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vance gladly consented. She had +observed that Jennie seemed unhappy, and +was very anxious to see Dotty again. She +hoped she had gone to return the money +of her own free will.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Parlin opened the nursery +door at home, she found Jennie building +block houses, to Flyaway's great delight, +while at the other end of the room sat +Dotty Dimple, resolutely sewing patchwork.</p> + +<p>"O, grandma," spoke up Flyaway, "Jennie +came to see me; she didn't come to +see Dotty, 'cause Dotty don't want to talk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +There, now, Jennie, make a rat to put in +the cupboard. R goes first to rat."</p> + +<p>Innocent little Flyaway! She had long +ago forgotten her pique against Jennie for +being "so easy fretted," and jumping her +down from the table.</p> + +<p>Wretched little Jennie! The new blue +and white frock, just finished by her dress-maker, +covered a heart filled with mortification. +Dotty Dimple would not talk to +her. It seemed as if Dotty had climbed +to the top of a high mountain, and was +looking down, down upon her.</p> + +<p>Dotty did feel very exalted to-day; but +there was another reason why she would +not talk with Jennie: she might have to +confess that grandma knew about the +money; and then what a scene there would +be! So Dotty set her lips together, and +sewed as if she was afraid somebody would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +freeze to death before she could finish her +patchwork quilt.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford, who did not understand +the cause of Dotty's lofty mood, took pity +on Jennie, and tried to amuse her. After +a while, Dotty came softly along, and sat +down close to her aunt Maria, ready to +listen to the story of the "Pappoose," +though she had heard it fifty times before.</p> + +<p>She did not see Jennie alone for one +moment. Grandma Parlin did. "Jennie," +said she, taking her into the parlor to show +her a new shell, "are you going with our +little girls, to-morrow, to sell rags?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, ma'am, I'm sure," replied +Jennie, looking hard at the sofa. She +longed to make an open confession, and +get rid of the troublesome money, but had +not the courage to do it without some help +from Dotty.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<p>"O, dear," thought she, "I feel just as +wicked with that money in my bosom! +Seems as if she could hear it crumple. If +Dotty would only let me talk to her first!"</p> + +<p>But Dotty continued as unapproachable +as the Pope of Rome. Eight o'clock came, +and the two unhappy little girls went +slowly up stairs to bed. Dotty, in her +lofty pride, tried to make her little friend +feel herself a sinner; while Jennie, ready +to hide herself in the potato-bin for +shame, was, at the same time, very angry +with the self-satisfied Miss Dimple. She +was awed by her superior goodness, but +did not love her any the better for it. +Why should she? Dotty's goodness lacked</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Humility</i>, that low, sweet root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which all heavenly virtues shoot." +</div></div> + +<p>"Here, Miss Parlin," said Jennie, angri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>ly, +as she took off her dress; "here it is, +right in my neck. I should have gone and +given it to your grandmother, ever so long +ago, if you hadn't acted so!"</p> + +<p>Dotty pulled off her stockings.</p> + +<p>"I 'spose you thought I was going to +keep it. Here, take your old money!"</p> + +<p>"You did mean to keep it, Jane Sidney +Vance," retorted Dotty, as fierce as a thistle; +and finished undressing at the top of +her speed.</p> + +<p>The money lay on the floor, and neither +of the proud girls would pick it up. Jennie, +who always prayed at her mother's knee, +forgot her prayer to-night, and climbed +into bed without it. But Dotty, feeling +more than ever how much better she was +than her little friend, knelt beside a chair, +and prayed in a loud voice. First, she +repeated the "Lord's Prayer," then "Gen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>tle +Jesus, meek and mild," and "Now I +lay me down to sleep." She was not talking +to her heavenly Father, but to Jennie, +and ended her petitions thus:—</p> + +<p>"O God, forgive me if I have done +anything naughty to-day; and please forgive +<i>Jennie Vance, the wickedest girl in +this town</i>."</p> + +<p>Then the little Pharisee got into bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>"WHEELBARROWING."</h3> + + +<p>"The wickedest girl in this town!" Jennie's +eyes flashed in the dark like a couple +of fireflies. At first she was too angry +to speak; and when words did come, they +were too weak. She wanted words that +were so strong, and bitter, and fierce, that +they would make Dotty quail. But all +she could say was,—</p> + +<p>"O, dreadful good you are, Miss Parlin! +Good's the minister! Ah! guess I'll get +out and sleep on the floor!"</p> + +<p>Dotty made no reply, but rolled over +to the front of the bed, and Jennie pushed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +herself to the back of it. There the little +creatures lay in silence, each on an edge +of the bedstead, and a whole mattress +between. Sleep did not come at once.</p> + +<p>"She's left that money on the floor," +thought Dotty; "what if a mouse should +creep down the chimney, and gnaw it all +up? But she must take care of it herself. +<i>I</i> shan't!"</p> + +<p>And Jennie thought, wrathfully, "Dotty +says such long prayers she can't stop to +pick up that scrip! If she expects me to +get out of bed, she's made a mistake; I +won't touch her old money."</p> + +<p>About nine o'clock grandma Parlin came +quietly into the room with a lamp. A +smile crept round the corners of her mouth, +as she saw the little girls sleeping so +widely apart, their faces turned away from +each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How is this?" said she, as the two +bills caught her eye. "Of all the foolish +children! Dropping money about the room +like waste paper!"</p> + +<p>The light awoke Jennie, who had only +just fallen asleep. "Now is the time," +said she to herself; and without waiting +for a second thought, which would have +been a worse one, she sprang out of bed, +and caught Mrs. Parlin by the skirts.</p> + +<p>"That money is yours, Mrs. Parlin," +said she, bravely. "Yours; I found it +in the rag-bag. Something naughty came +into me this morning, and made me want to +keep it; but I'm ever so sorry, and never'll +do it again. Will you forgive me?"</p> + +<p>Then grandma Parlin seated herself in +a rocking-chair, took Jennie right into her +lap, and talked to her a long while in the +sweetest way. Jennie curled her head into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +the good woman's neck, and sobbed out +all her wretchedness.</p> + +<p>"She knew she was real bad, and people +didn't like to have her play with their +little girls, and Dotty Dimple thought she +was awful; but <i>was</i> she the wickedest girl +in this town?"</p> + +<p>"No; O, no!"</p> + +<p>"Wasn't Dotty some bad, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dotty often did wrong."</p> + +<p>Then Jenny wept afresh.</p> + +<p>"She knew she <i>was</i> worse than Dotty, +though. She wished,—O, dear, as true +as she lived,—she wished she was dead +and buried, and drowned in the Red Sea, +and the grass over her grave, and shut +up in jail, and everything else."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Parlin soothed her with kind +words, but told the truth with every one.</p> + +<p>"No 'm," Jennie said; "it wasn't right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +to take fruit-cake without leave, or tell +wrong stories either; she wouldn't any +more. Yes'm, she would try to be good—she +never had tried much.—Yes 'm, +she would ask God to help her. Should +you suppose He would do it?</p> + +<p>"Yes 'm, she would ask Him not to +let her have much temptation. She did +believe she would rather be a good girl—a +real good girl, like Prudy, <i>not like Dotty</i>!—than +to have a velvet dress with +spangles all over it."</p> + +<p>All this while Dotty did not waken. In +the morning she was surprised to see her +little bedfellow looking so cheerful.</p> + +<p>"I've told your grandmother all about +it," said Jennie with a smile. "I knew I +did wrong, but I don't believe I should +have meant to if you hadn't acted so your +<i>own</i> self—now that's a fact."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You haven't seen my grandmother," +returned Dotty, not noticing the last clause +of her friend's remark. "You dreamed it."</p> + +<p>"No, she came in here and forgave me. +She's the best woman in this world. What +do you think she said about you, Dotty +Dimple? She said there were other little +girls full as good as you are. There!"</p> + +<p>"O!"</p> + +<p>"Said you 'often did wrong,' that's <i>just</i> +what," added Jennie, correcting herself, +and making sure of the "white truth."</p> + +<p>Step by step Dotty came down from the +mountain-top, and, before breakfast was +ready, had led her visitor through the +morning dew to the playhouse under the +trees, chatting all the way as if nothing +had happened.</p> + +<p>It proved that the money belonged to +Abner. He had missed it several weeks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +before, and ever since that had been suspecting +old Daniel McQuilken, a day laborer, +of stealing it.</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed of it now," said Abner to +Ruth, "though I didn't tell anybody but +you. I wish you'd mix a pitcher of sweetened +water, and let me take it out to the +field to old Daniel. I feel as if I wanted +to make it up to him some way."</p> + +<p>Ruth laughed; and when Abner came +into the house at ten o'clock, she had a +pitcher of molasses and water ready for +him, also a plate of cherry turnovers. +Flyaway insisted upon toddling over the +ground with one of the turnovers in her +apron.</p> + +<p>"Man," said she, when they reached the +field, and she saw the Irishman with his +funny red and white hair, "what's your +name, man?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>He wiped his face with his checked +shirt-sleeve, and took a turnover from her +hand, bowing very low as he did so.</p> + +<p>"Thank ee, my little lady; sense you're +plazed to ask me,—my name's Dannul."</p> + +<p>"O, are you?" said Flyaway, looking +up in surprise at the large and oddly-dressed +stranger. "Are you Daniel? My +mamma's just been reading about you. +You was in the lions' den—<i>wasn't</i> you, +Daniel?"</p> + +<p>Mr. McQuilken smiled at bareheaded, +flossy-haired little Katie, and replied, with +a wink at Abner,—</p> + +<p>"Fath, little lady, and I suppose I'm +that same Dannul; but 'twas so long ago +I've clane forgot aboot it entirely."</p> + +<p>"O, did you? Well, you <i>was</i> in the +lions' den, Daniel, but they didn't bite +you, you know, 'cause you prayed so long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +and so loud, with your winners up; and +then God wouldn't let 'em bite."</p> + +<p>Old Daniel laid both his huge hands +on Katie's head.</p> + +<p>"Swate little chirrub," said he, "don't +she look saintish?"</p> + +<p>Katie moved away; she did not like to +have her hair pulled, and Daniel was unconsciously +drawing it through the big +cracks in his fingers, as if he was waxing +silk.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll go home now," said she, +with a timid glance at the man whom the +lions did not bite; "they'll be spectin' +me."</p> + +<p>Abner and Daniel both watched the tiny +figure across the fields till Ruth came out +to meet it, and it fluttered into the east +door of the house.</p> + +<p>"There, she's safe," said Abner; "she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +needs as much looking after as a young +turkey."</p> + +<p>"She runs like a little sperrit, bliss her +swate eyes," said Daniel. "I had one as +pooty as her, but she's at Mary's fate, +Hivven rist her sowl!"</p> + +<p>The moment Flyaway reached the house, +she rushed into the parlor to tell her +mother the news.</p> + +<p>"The man you readed about in the +book, mamma, he's out there! Daniel, +that the lions didn't bite, mamma, 'cause +he prayed so long and so loud with his +winners up; he's out there—got a hat on."</p> + +<p>"O, no, my child; it is thousands of +years since Daniel was in the lions' den; +he died long and long ago."</p> + +<p>"But he said he did, mamma; he told +me so. I <i>fought</i> he was dead, mamma, +but he said he wasn't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford shook her head. "I dare +say his name is Daniel, but he was never +in a lion's den."</p> + +<p>Flyaway opened and closed her eyes in +the slowest and most impressive manner. +"Mamma," said she, solemnly, "does—folks—tell—lies?"</p> + +<p>It was an entirely now idea to the innocent +child: it stamped itself upon her +mind like a motto on warm sealing-wax, +"Folks—does—tell—lies."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford was sorry to see the look +of distrust on the young face.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, little Flyaway. I think +the man was in sport; he was only playing +with you, as Horace does sometimes, when +he calls himself your horse."</p> + +<p>Flyaway said no more, but she pressed +her eyelids together again, and felt that +she had been trifled with. Half an hour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +afterwards Prudy heard her repeating, +slowly, to herself, "Folks—does—tell—lies."</p> + +<p>"Why, here she is," called Dotty from +the piazza; "come, Fly; we're going wheel-barrowing."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, cousin Dotty," said +Mrs. Clifford; "Flyaway must put on a +clean frock; she is not coming home with +you, but you are to leave her at aunt +Martha's. I shall meet her there at dinner +time."</p> + +<p>"O, mamma, may I? I love you a hundred +rooms full. Let me go bring my +<i>buttoner bootner</i> quick's a minute."</p> + +<p>Flyaway was not long in getting ready. +She was never long about anything.</p> + +<p>"You said we might have all the money, +we three—didn't you, grandma?" asked +Dotty again, at the last moment, thinking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +how glad she was Jennie had gone home, +and would not claim a share.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied patient grandma for the +fifth time; "you may do anything you like +with it, except to buy colored candy."</p> + +<p>As they were trundling the wheelbarrow +out of the yard, Horace came up from the +garden.</p> + +<p>"Prudy," said he, with rather a shame-faced +glance at his favorite cousin, "you +girls will cut a pretty figure, parading +through the streets like a gang of pedlers. +Come, let me be the driver."</p> + +<p>"O, we thought you couldn't leave your +flower-beds, sir," replied Prudy, sweeping +a courtesy.</p> + +<p>"Well, the weeds <i>are</i> pretty tough, +ma'am; roots 'way down in China, and the +Emperor objects to parting with 'em; +but—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poh! we don't need any boys," cried +the self-sustained Miss Dimple; "if your +hands are too soft, Prudy, you mustn't +push. Wait and see what Dotty Dimple +can do."</p> + +<p>"O, then, if you spurn me and my offer, +good by. I suppose my little Topknot +goes for <i>surplusage</i>," said Horace, who +liked now and then to puzzle Dotty with +a new word. He meant that Flyaway was +of no use, but rather in the way.</p> + +<p>"No, she needn't do any such thing," +returned Dotty. "Jump in, Fly, and sit +on the bag." And off moved the gay little +party, "the middle-aged sister" laughing +so she could hardly push, Flyaway dancing +up and down on the rag-bag, like a humming-bird +balancing itself on a twig; Grace +and Susy looking down from the "green +chamber" window, and saying to each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +other, with wounded family pride, "<i>Should</i> +you think grandma would allow it?" Out +in the street the young rag-merchants were +greeted by a cow lowing dismally. Flyaway, +in her rustic carriage, felt as secure +as the fabled "kid on the roof of a house;" +so she called out, "Don't cry, old cow; I +'shamed o' you."</p> + +<p>At this Prudy and Dotty laughed harder +than ever.</p> + +<p>"'Sh right up, old cow," said Flyaway, +standing on her "tipsy-toes," and making +a threatening gesture with her little arms; +"'Sh right up!—O, why don't that cow +mind in a minute?"</p> + +<p>In her earnestness the little girl pushed +the bag to one side, and Prudy and Dotty, +shaking with laughter, tipped over the +wheelbarrow. No harm was done except +to give Flyaway a dust-bath in her nice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +clean frock. Just as they were struggling +with the bag, to get it in again, they were +overtaken by a droll-looking equipage. It +was a long house on wheels, and instantly +reminded Dotty of Noah's ark.</p> + +<p>"O, a house a-ridin'! a house a-ridin'!" +exclaimed Flyaway, gazing after it with +the greatest astonishment.</p> + +<p>Dotty thought the world was going topsy-turvy. +She looked at the trees to see if +they stood fast in the ground. But Prudy +explained it as soon as she could stop +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Only a photograph saloon," said she. +"Didn't you ever see one before? We +don't have them in the city going round +so, but things are different in the country. +Let's watch and see where it stops."</p> + +<p>"O, dear me," said Dotty; "I shouldn't +want to live in a house that couldn't stand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +still! Stove tipping over, and the gingerbread +falling out of the oven! There, I +declare!"</p> + +<p>The look of wonder on Dotty's face was +so amusing that Prudy was obliged to +hold on to her sides.</p> + +<p>"There, look!" said she; "it has stopped +down by the corner. Now the man can +bake his gingerbread if he wants to, and +the stove won't tip over. Jump in, Flyaway, +and finish your ride."</p> + +<p>"No-o," said Flyaway, wavering between +her fear of the cow, some yards ahead, +and her fear of the rocking, unsteady +wheelbarrow. "Guess I won't get in no +more, Prudy; it wearies me."</p> + +<p>"Wearies you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: don't you know what 'wearies' +means, Prudy? It means it makes me a—a—little—scared!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>And in her "weariness" Flyaway nestled +between her two cousins, and kept fast +hold of their skirts till the cow was safely +passed and the red store reached.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" exclaimed Mr. Bradley, the +merchant, as he came out and dragged the +rag-bag into the store; "so you've taken +the business into your own hands, my little +women? Ah, this is a progressive +age! Walk in—walk in."</p> + +<p>Prudy blushed, Dotty smiled, and Flyaway +took off her hat, as she usually did +when she did not know what else to do.</p> + +<p>"Take some seats, young ladies," said +Mr. Bradley, placing three chairs in a row, +and bowing as if to the most distinguished +visitors. Two or three men, who were +lounging about the counter, looked on with +a smile. Dotty was very well satisfied, +for she enjoyed attention; but Prudy, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +was older, and had a more delicate sense +of propriety, blushed and cast down her +eyes. She had thought nothing of driving +a wheelbarrow through the street, but now, +for the first time, a feeling of mortification +came over her. If Mr. Bradley would +only keep quiet!</p> + +<p>"A fine morning, my young friends! +Rather warm, to be sure. And so you +have brought rags to sell? Would you +like the money for them, or do you think +we can make a trade with some articles +out of the store?"</p> + +<p>"Grandma said we could have the money +between us, we three," replied Dotty, with +refreshing frankness, "and buy anything we +please except red and yellow candy."</p> + +<p>"I want a <i>music</i>," said Flyaway, in an +eager whisper; "a music, and a ollinge, +and a pig."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Prudy, for the man with +a piece of court-plaster on his cheek was +certainly laughing.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bradley took the bag into another +room to weigh it. A boy was in there, +drawing molasses. "James," said Mr. Bradley, +"run down cellar, and bring up some +beer for these young ladies."</p> + +<p>There was a smile on James's face as he +drove the plug into the barrel. Prudy +saw it through the open door, and it went +to her heart. The cream beer was excellent, +but Prudy did not relish it. She and +Dotty had been whispering together.</p> + +<p>"We will take two thirds of the rags in +money, if you please," said Prudy, in such +a low tone that Mr. Bradley had to bend +his ear to hear.</p> + +<p>"Because," added Dotty, who wished to +have everything clearly explained, "because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +we want to have our tin-types taken, sir. +We saw a saloon riding on wheels, and we +thought we'd go there, and see if the man +wasn't ready to take pictures."</p> + +<p>"And our little cousin may use her third, +and buy something out of the store, if you +please," said the blushing Prudy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>TIN-TYPES.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Bradley said he did not often allow +any one behind his counter, as all the boys +in the village could testify; but these +young ladies were welcome in any part of +the store.</p> + +<p>"That little one is the spryest child I +ever saw," said the man with the court-plaster, +as Flyaway hovered about the candy-jars, +like a butterfly over a flower-bed. +"She isn't a Yankee child—is she?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," replied Dotty, quickly; "she +is a <i>westerness</i>."</p> + +<p>She had heard Horace use the word, +and presumed it was correct.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do wish Dotty would be more afraid +of strangers," thought Prudy. "I never +will take her anywhere again—with a +wheelbarrow."</p> + +<p>Flyaway fluttered around for a minute, +and then alighted upon her favorite sweet-meats, +"<i>pepnits</i>." She chose for her portion +a large amount of these, an harmonica, +and a sugar pig, which Dotty assured her +was not "colored." "Nothing but pink dots, +and those you can pick off."</p> + +<p>"The rags came to seventy-five cents, and +this young lady has now had her third; +here is the remainder," said Mr. Bradley, +smiling as he gave each of the little Parlins +some money, and bowed them out of +the store.</p> + +<p>"I'll put it in <i>my</i> porte-monnaie, sir; +my sister Prudy didn't bring hers."</p> + +<p>"What makes you talk so much, Dotty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +Dimple?" said Prudy, "that man has been +making sport of us all the time."</p> + +<p>"Did he?" said Dotty, solemnly. "I'm +'stonished at grandma Parlin letting us sell +rags! Wish this wheelbarrow was in the +<i>Stiftic Ocean</i>."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't, little sister, and the worst +of it is, we've got to take it to the photograph +saloon; it's so far home and back +again."</p> + +<p>"Got to take the ole <i>wheelbarrel</i> every +single where we go," pouted Flyaway, as +drearily as either of her cousins.</p> + +<p>"You needn't mind it, though," said +Dotty, giving the one-wheeled coach a hard +push; "a little girl that's going visiting, +and have succotash for dinner."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I was. O, I <i>am</i> so glad! +What is it!"</p> + +<p>"Corn and beans. Aunt Martha's girl is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +the best cook,—makes cherry pudding. +Dear, dear, dear! Wish I was in Portland; +see 'f I wouldn't go to Tate Penny's, +and have some salmon and ice-cream!"</p> + +<p>Down the beautiful shaded street walked +the three little rag-pedlers; and it did +seem as if they were met by all the people +in town, from the minister down to the +barefoot boys going fishing. At last they +arrived at the house on wheels.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll tell you, Fly, what we're going +to do," said Prudy. "Dotty and I +want to have our tin-types taken, to give +to grandma, as a pleasant surprise. We'll +pay for yours too, if you'll sit for it."</p> + +<p>"<i>Tin-tybe</i>? Of course, indeed I will. +Won't I have nuffin to do but just sit +still? But I'd rather be gentle (generous), +and give it to my mamma."</p> + +<p>"Well, to your mamma, then. What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +will be the harm, Dotty, in leaving this +wheelbarrow out here at the door?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Dotty; "I hope +there won't any 'bugglers' come along, +and steal it."</p> + +<p>"I shall watch it," replied Prudy, with +a care-worn look; and they all went up +the steps and entered the little picture-gallery.</p> + +<p>The windows were closed, and the odor of +chemicals was so stifling, that the children +almost gasped for breath. The artist seemed +glad to see them, made no remarks about +the wheelbarrow, though he must have noticed +it, and said he would be ready in +a few minutes. While they waited, they +walked about the room, looking at the +pictures on the walls.</p> + +<p>"See," said Dotty; "there is Abby Grant, +with her hair frizzed. Prudy" (in a low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +whisper), "you don't s'pose he will carry +us off—do you? I forgot about the wheels, +or I wouldn't have come! O, see that +little boy; hands as big as my father's! +Here comes Jennie Vance; I'm going to +call her in."</p> + +<p>Dotty had forgotten her contempt for +her lively friend. Jennie came in, twirling +the rim of her hat, and looking quite gratified +by this mark of friendship in Dotty.</p> + +<p>"Going to have your picture taken, Dotty +Dimple? Well, so I would if I was as +pretty as you are. O, dear" (with a sly +peep at the glass), "I wish I wasn't so +homely."</p> + +<p>Now Jennie was a handsome child, and +knew it well; but Dotty took her wail in +earnest. "Why, Jennie," said she, with +ready sympathy, "I don't think you're so +<i>very</i> homely; not half so homely, any +way, as some of the girls at Portland."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jennie frowned and bit her thumb. Prudy +smiled "behind her mouth," but Dotty +was serenely unconscious that she had +given offence. By this time the artist was +ready, and thought it best to try Flyaway +first; for he had had enough experience +with children to see at a glance that this +one would be as difficult to "take" as a +bird on the wing. Prudy made sure the +wheelbarrow was safe, and then turned to +arrange her little cousin.</p> + +<p>"Here, put your hands down in your +lap."</p> + +<p>Up went the little hands to the flossy +hair. "It won't stay, Prudy, <i>or nelse</i> you +tie it."</p> + +<p>"I shall brush it, the very last minute, +Flyaway. All you must do is sit still. +Mayn't she look at your watch, sir, just +to keep her eyes from moving?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No matter what she looks at," replied +the artist; "but she must keep that little +head of hers straight."</p> + +<p>His tone was firm; he hoped to awe +her into quietness. Flyaway was frightened, +and clung to Prudy for protection. +"Don't the gemplum love little gee—urls?" +said she, in a voice as low and sad as a +dying dove's.</p> + +<p>Mr. Poindexter laughed, and stroked the +beautiful floss lovingly.</p> + +<p>"Just turn your sweet little face this +way, dear child; that's all."</p> + +<p>"O, my shole! Must I turn my face to +my back!" said Flyaway, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"No, no; look at this picture on the +wall. See what it is, so you can tell your +mother."</p> + +<p>"It's a bridge, and a man, and a fish," +said Flyaway, flashing a glance at it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, smooth your forehead; now you +will do." And so she did, for two seconds, +till she began to squint, to see whether it +was a fish or a dog; and that picture was +spoiled.</p> + +<p>Next time she tried so very hard to sit +still that she swayed to and fro like a +slender-stemmed flower when the wind goes +over it. The picture was blurred.</p> + +<p>"O, Fly, you must keep your shoulders +still," said Prudy, looking as anxious as +the old woman in the shoe.</p> + +<p>"I didn't never want to come here," +said the child; "when I sit so still, Prudy, +it 'most gives me a pain."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't sat still yet, not a +minute."</p> + +<p>"I could, you know, Prudy, <i>or nelse</i> I +didn't have to breeve," groaned Flyaway, +lifting her eyebrows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Another one spoiled," said the artist, +trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dotty, who felt none of the +care. "Once it was her head, and then it +was her shoulders; and now her eyebrows +are all of a quirk."</p> + +<p>Poor little Flyaway felt as much out of +place as a grape-vine would feel, if it had +to make believe it was a pine tree.</p> + +<p>"Wisht I'd said 'no,' 'stead o' 'yes,'" +murmured she, puckering her mouth to the +size of a very small button-hole.</p> + +<p>"This will never do," said the patient +artist, almost in despair. "Hold your little +chin up, there's a lady. Don't put it +in your neck. Now! Ready!"</p> + +<p>But at the critical moment there was a +jerk, and Flyaway cried out,—</p> + +<p>"I've got a sneeze; but, O, dear, I can't +sneeze it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, where's that head of yours, little +Tot? I declare, I believe it goes on +wires, like a jumping-jack."</p> + +<p>"My head's wrong side up," said Flyaway, +mournfully; "my mother said it was."</p> + +<p>Mr. Poindexter laughed: it was impossible +to be vexed with such a gentle child +as Flyaway. "Really, my young friends," +said he, rubbing his stained fingers through +his hair, "I believe I shall be obliged to +give it up for the present. Have the +child's mother come with her to-morrow, +and we'll do better, I am sure."</p> + +<p>With the likenesses of the other girls he +succeeded very well; and Prudy and Dotty +were glad to find, that after paying for +theirs, they each had ten cents left.</p> + +<p>"Now, Fly, we will go to aunt Martha's."</p> + +<p>But Fly was amusing herself by scraping +dirt out of the cracks of her boots with a +bit of glass.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dotty won't be to aunt Marfie's. I +don't want to stay where Dotty isn't."</p> + +<p>"But your mamma will be there, you +know; and I told you what they are going +to have for dinner."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>secretary</i>," said Flyaway, proud +of her memory. "She is a very nice <i>cooker</i>, +but you'll have hard work to get me +to go."</p> + +<p>She drawled out the words languidly, and +seemed on the point of going to sleep.</p> + +<p>"O, girls, girls, girls," cried Prudy, +opening the door and looking out, "our +wheelbarrow is gone—it's gone!"</p> + +<p>"It's bugglers; I told you so," said Dotty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Poindexter was quite amused by his +little sitters. "I saw that you came in a +coach," said he, "and without any horses."</p> + +<p>"Our grandmother said we might," spoke +up Dotty, anxious to divert all blame from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +herself. "She said we might; but Prudy +ought to have gone straight home. I knew +it all the time."</p> + +<p>"I dare say some one has driven off +your carriage in sport," said the kind-hearted +photographer; "never fear."</p> + +<p>"O, no, sir; it was new and red. Folks +wanted it to haul stones in, and that was +why they took it," said Dotty, wrathfully.</p> + +<p>The children looked up street and down +street. No wheelbarrow in sight. "We +must go to aunt Martha's, and then come +back and hunt for it, if we have to go +without our dinners," they said. They +took Flyaway between them, and marched +her off. She was almost as passive as a +rag baby, ready to drop down anywhere, +and fall asleep. "'Cause I <i>am</i> so tired," +said she.</p> + +<p>Aunt Martha cordially invited the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +cousins to dine. They thanked her, but +no, they must find the wheelbarrow. "We +shan't say, certain positive, that bugglers +took it, but we s'pose so," said Dotty, +softening her judgment, as she remembered +her mistake about the "screw-up pencil." +They went home through the broiling sun, +but found no trace of the wheelbarrow.</p> + +<p>"It's a dreadful thing," said Prudy, lazily, +"but I don't feel as bad as I should +if I was fairly awake."</p> + +<p>"Me, too," yawned Dotty; "I wish we +could lie down under the trees, and go +to sleep."</p> + +<p>They had been a long while in the close +saloon, inhaling ether, and this was the +cause of their languor. As they entered +the yard they met Horace.</p> + +<p>"O, dear," said Dotty, trying to look +as sorry as she knew she ought to feel, +"that wheel—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Prudy.</p> + +<p>There, under a syringa tree in the garden, +stood the wheelbarrow. The girls +rubbed their eyes, and wondered if they +were walking in their sleep.</p> + +<p>"That thing trundled itself in here about +half an hour ago," said Horace, gravely. +"You may know I was surprised to look +up, and see it coming without hands, just +rolling along like a velocipede."</p> + +<p>Dotty eyed the runaway wheelbarrow stupidly. +"I don't believe it," said she, flatly.</p> + +<p>Horace laughed; and then the fog cleared +away from Dotty's mind in a minute.</p> + +<p>"Why, girls," said he, "how long did +you think I could wait to haul off my +weeds? You were gone two hours. I +watched you on your parade, and followed +at a respectful distance."</p> + +<p>"There, Horace Clifford!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In order not to disturb the procession. +Then, when I saw you going into the +saloon, I went up and claimed my wheelbarrow. +Didn't want it any longer—did +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, and never want it again," said +Prudy.</p> + +<p>"By the way, here's a conundrum for +you, girls, Why's a wheelbarrow like a +potato?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think it was like it at all," +answered Dotty. "Where did you read +that?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't read it anywhere. I've given +up books since I undertook gardening. +Never was much of a bookworm. Make +a very respectable <i>earth-worm</i>; ask aunt +Louise if I don't."</p> + +<p>The little girls entered the house, too +tired and sleepy to make any reply.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>WAKING.</h3> + + +<p>Flyaway was very much sleepier than +either of her cousins, and really did not +know where she was, or what she was +doing. Lonnie Adams, a boy of Horace's +age, tried to interest her. He made believe +the old cat was a sheep, killed her with an +iron spoon, and hung her up by the hind +legs for mutton, all which Pussy bore like +a lamb, for she had been killed a great +many times, and was used to it. But it +did not please Flyaway; neither did aunt +Martha's collection of shells and pictures +call forth a single smile. There was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +beautiful clock in the parlor, and the pendulum +was in the form of a little boy +swinging; but Flyaway would not have +cared if it had been a gallows, and the +boy hanging there dead.</p> + +<p>Uncle John took her on his knee, asked +her what her name was, where she lived, +and whom she loved best; but she only +answered she "didn't know." She might +have been Daniel in the lions' den, or Joseph +in the pit, for all the difference to her.</p> + +<p>"How very singular!" said aunt Martha. +"I wish her mother would come. Do feel +her pulse, John, and see if it is fever."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind," said uncle John, +as the little one's head dropped on his +shoulder. "Overcome by the heat; that's +all. I'll just lay her down on the sofa."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Clifford came, she was surprised +to find the child fast asleep. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +would not have her wakened for dinner; +so Flyaway missed her "secretary." But +when it was three o'clock, and she still +slept, Mrs. Clifford feared something was +wrong, and decided to take her home. +Uncle John had "Lightning Dodger" harnessed, +and brought around to the door.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, little daughter," said Mrs. +Clifford; "we are going home now."</p> + +<p>Flyaway looked around vacantly, her eyes +as heavy as drenched violets.</p> + +<p>"You must come again, and stay longer," +said aunt Martha; "it is hardly polite not +to let little girls have their dinners—do +you think it is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes 'm," replied Flyaway, faintly. She +did not understand a word any one said; +it all sounded as indistinct as the roaring +of a sea-shell. By the time she was lifted +into her mother's arms in the carriage, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +was nodding again. When they reached +home she scarcely spoke, but, dropping +upon the sofa, went on with her dreams. +It was odd for Flyaway to take a nap in +the daytime, and such a long one as this!</p> + +<p>"It must be a very warm day," said +Mrs. Parlin, "for Prudy and Dotty have +been asleep too."</p> + +<p>"Where did they go after they sold the +rags?" asked Mrs. Clifford; "they all +look pale."</p> + +<p>"To a photograph saloon. Here are the +tin-types they brought home to me," replied +grandma, producing them from her +pocket, with a gratified smile.</p> + +<p>"Very good, mother—don't you think +so? I would be glad to have as truthful +a likeness of our little Katie; but she must +be taken asleep. I wonder, by the way, +if there wasn't something in the air of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +saloon which made the children all so languid?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, Maria; very likely it was +the ether. Now you speak of it, I am confident +it must have been the ether."</p> + +<p>"I knew just such an instance before," +said Mrs. Clifford; "and that is why I +happened to think of it now."</p> + +<p>About four o'clock Flyaway came to her +senses.</p> + +<p>"Where's the wheelbarrel?" said she, +rubbing her eyes.</p> + +<p>"O, Horace came and took it," said +Dotty. "Hasn't this been the queerest +day!"</p> + +<p>"You said you's goin' to take me to +aunt Marfie's; why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"O, we did; we took you, you know."</p> + +<p>"Dotty Dimpul, I shouldn't think you'd +make any believe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm not 'making any believe'—am I, +Prudy?"</p> + +<p>"No, Fly, she isn't. We pulled you +along,—don't you remember?—and you +hung back, and said, 'I <i>am</i> so tired.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't 'member," said Flyaway, slowly +and sadly. "I shouldn't think <i>you'd</i> make +any believe, Prudy."</p> + +<p>"We'll ask your mamma, then; she tells +the truth. Aunt 'Riah, didn't we take +Flyaway to aunt Martha's this morning, +and didn't you go there too?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Mrs. Clifford; "but it +wasn't much of a visit,—was it, darling!—when +you slept most of the time, and +didn't have a mouthful of dinner?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway sighed heavily, and looked at +her mother. "O, mamma! mamma!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"O, mamma," repeated she, sorrowfully, +"why did you say those words?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What words, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Those naughty, naughty words, mamma." +Flyaway's gentle eyes were afloat. +She crossed the room, and knelt by Mrs. +Clifford's chair, looking up at her with an +expression of anguish.</p> + +<p>"That man, he wasn't in the lions' den, +that prayed so long and so loud, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear."</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> telled a wrong story to me, mamma."</p> + +<p>"My darling baby," said Mrs. Clifford, +catching Flyaway in her arms, "do you +think your own dear mother is telling you +a wrong story this minute?"</p> + +<p>"'Cause, 'cause, mamma, I didn't go to +aunt Marfie's!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did, my precious daughter; +but you were asleep and dreaming. We +brought you home in the carriage, and +you didn't know it. Can't you believe it +because I say so?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>Flyaway made no reply except to curl +her head under Mrs. Clifford's arm, like a +frightened chicken under its mother's wing. +Mrs. Clifford looked troubled. She was +afraid the little one could not be made to +understand it. Horace came to her aid.</p> + +<p>"Hold up your head, little Topknot, +and hear brother talk. Once there were +three little girls, and they all travelled +round with a wheelbarrow. By and by +they came to a man's house on wheels."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flyaway, starting up; "I +'member."</p> + +<p>"And the wee girl, with dove's eyes—"</p> + +<p>"O, O, that's me!"</p> + +<p>"She couldn't keep still, and couldn't +get any picture."</p> + +<p>"No, <i>tin-tybe</i>; 'cause—'cause—"</p> + +<p>"And all the while there was something +in the man's house they kept breathing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +into their noses, and it made them grow +sleepy."</p> + +<p>"Just so?" asked Flyaway, sniffing.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and by and by the little one with +dove's eyes was as stupid as that woman +you saw lying down in the street with the +pig looking at her."</p> + +<p>"Me? Was I a <i>drunken</i>?" said Flyaway, +in a subdued tone.</p> + +<p>"O, no," put in Dotty; "it wasn't whiskey, +it was <i>either</i>; and I didn't know much +more than you did, Fly Clifford. That +was why I lost your money, Prudy; I +just about know it was."</p> + +<p>Flyaway began to understand. The look +of fear and distrust went out of her eyes, +and she threw her arms round her mother's +neck, kissing her again and again.</p> + +<p>"<i>'Haps</i> I did go to aunt Marfie's, mamma; +<i>'haps</i> I was asleep!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's right, Miss Topknot," cried Horace; +"now your brother'll carry you pickaback."</p> + +<p>A little while afterward Mrs. Clifford +began a letter to her husband.</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell papa about his little +girl—that she is very well."</p> + +<p>"O, no, you needn't, mamma," said +Flyaway, laughing; "papa knows it. I +was well at home."</p> + +<p>"What shall I tell him, then?"</p> + +<p>Flyaway thought a moment.</p> + +<p>"Tell him all the folks doesn't tell lies," +said she, earnestly; "only but the naughty +folks tells lies."</p> + +<p>So that was settled; and Flyaway decided +to write off the whole story, and send +to her father—a mixture of little sharp +zigzags, curves, and dots. When Horace +asked her what these meant, she said "she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +couldn't 'member now; but papa would +know."</p> + +<p>There was another matter which troubled +grandma Parlin somewhat. Dotty had gone +to the store, after dinner, with two ten-cent +pieces in her porte-monnaie. She +had bought for herself some jujube paste, +but in returning had lost the other dime.</p> + +<p>"Grandma, do you think that is fair?" +said Prudy. "She has lost my money, but +she doesn't care at all; only laughs. I was +going to put it with some more I had, and +buy mother a collar."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not right," replied grandma. +"I will talk with her, and try to make +her willing to give you some of hers in +return."</p> + +<p>Ah, grandma Parlin, you little knew +what you were undertaking when you +called Dotty Dimple into the back parlor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +next morning, and began to talk about +that money! Children's minds are strange +things. They are like bottles with very +small necks; and when you pour in an +idea, you must pour very slowly, a drop +at a time, or it all runs over. Dotty did +not know much more about money than +Flyaway.</p> + +<p>"My child," said her grandmother, "it +seems you have lost something which belonged +to Prudy."</p> + +<p>Dotty looked up carelessly from the picture +of a rose she held in her hand, which +she meant to adorn with yellow paint.</p> + +<p>"O, yes 'm; you mean that money."</p> + +<p>"There are several things you don't +know, Dotty; and one is, that you have no +right to lose other people's things."</p> + +<p>"No 'm."</p> + +<p>"The money you dropped out of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +porte-monnaie, yesterday, was Prudy's, not +yours; and what are you going to do about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see; my mother'll come to-morrow; +I'll ask her to give me some +more."</p> + +<p>"But is that right? Dotty lost the +money; must not Dotty be the one to give +it back?"</p> + +<p>"O, grandma, I can't find it! The wind +blew it away, or a horse stepped on it. I +can't find it, certainly."</p> + +<p>"No; but you have money of your own. +You can give some of that to Prudy."</p> + +<p>"Why-ee!" moaned Dotty. "Prudy's +got ever so much. O, grandma, she has; +and my box is so empty it can't but just +jingle."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, that has nothing to do +with the case. If Prudy has a great deal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +of money, you have no right to lose any +of it. Don't you think you ought to give +it back?"</p> + +<p>"O, no, grandma—I don't; because she +doesn't need it! I wish she'd give <i>me</i> ten +cents, for I do need it; I haven't but a +tinty, tonty mite."</p> + +<p>Here Dotty threw herself on the sofa, +the picture of despair. Grandma was perplexed. +Had she been pouring ideas into +Dotty's mind too fast? What should she +say next?</p> + +<p>"My dear little girl, suppose Prudy +should lose some of your money—what +then?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like it at all, grandma. Don't +let her go to my box—will you?"</p> + +<p>"Selfish little girl!" said grandma, looking +keenly at Dotty's troubled face. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +would expect Prudy to return every cent, +if she were in your place."</p> + +<p>"Because—because—grandma—"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and when I explain your duty to +you, you don't understand me. You would +understand if you were not so selfish!"</p> + +<p>Dotty winced.</p> + +<p>"Don't come to me again, and complain +of Jennie Vance."</p> + +<p>Dotty could not meet her grandmother's +searching gaze: it seemed to cut into her +heart like a sharp blade.</p> + +<p>"Am I as bad as Jennie Vance? Yes, +just us bad; and grandma knows it. But +then," said she aloud, though very faintly, +"Prudy needn't have put it in my porte-monnaie; +she might have known I'd lose +it."</p> + +<p>"Dotty, I am not going to say any more +about it now. You may think it over to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>-day, +and decide for yourself whether you +are following the Golden Rule. Or, if you +choose, you may wait and talk with your +mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes 'm." Dotty was glad to escape +into the kitchen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>AUNT POLLY'S STORY.</h3> + + +<p>Flyaway sat on the kitchen floor, feeding +Dinah with a roasted apple. As often +as Dinah refused a teaspoonful, she put +it into her own mouth, saying, with a wise +nod, "My child, she's sick; hasn't any +<i>appletite</i>."</p> + +<p>Out of doors it was raining heartily. It +seemed as if the "upper deep" was tipping +over, and pouring itself into the lap of the +earth.</p> + +<p>"O, Ruthie," sighed Dotty Dimple, "my +mother won't come while it's such weather. +Do you s'pose 'twill ever clear off?" +[Blank Page]</p> + +<p class="center"><img class="img1" src="images/image_06.jpg" alt="Flyaway and Dinah." width="400" height="665" /><br /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Flyaway and Dinah.</span></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," replied Ruth, trimming a +pie briskly; "it only began last night at +five."</p> + +<p>"Why, Ruthie Dillon! it began three +weeks ago, by the clock! Don't you know +that day I couldn't go visiting? Only +sometimes it stops a while, and then begins +again."</p> + +<p>"If you're going to have the blues, Miss +Dotty, I'll thank you kindly just to take +yourself out of this kitchen. Polly Whiting +is here, and she is as much as a body +can endures in this dull weather."</p> + +<p>"It's pitiful 'bout the rain, Dotty; but +you mustn't scold when God sended it," +said Flyaway, dropping the feeble Dinah, +and pursuing her cousin round the room +with a pin. In a minute they were both +laughing gayly, till Flyaway caught herself +on her little rocking-chair, and "got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +a <i>torn</i> in her apron." That ended the +sport.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do to make myself happy?" +said Dotty, musingly; for she wished +to put off all thought of Prudy's money. +"I should like to roll out some thimble-cookies, +but Ruthie hasn't much patience +this morning. I never dare do things when +her lips are squeezed together so."</p> + +<p>But Flyaway dared do things. She took +up the kitty, and played to her on the +"music," till Ruth's ears were "on edge." +After this the harmonica fell into a dish +of soft soap, and in cleaning it with ashes +and a sponge, the holes became stopped.</p> + +<p>"It won't <i>muse</i> no more," said Flyaway, +in sad surprise, blowing into the keys in +vain. Ruth loved the little child too well +to say she was glad of it.</p> + +<p>Flyaway's next dash was into the sink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +cupboard, where she found a wooden bowl +of sand. This she dragged out, and filling +her "nipperkin" with water, carried them +both to Ruth, saying, in her sweet, pleading +way,—</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> you please, Ruthie, will you tell +<i>how</i> God does when he takes the 'little +drops of water and little grains of sand,' +and makes 'the mighty <i>oshum</i>' with um, +'<i>and</i> the pleasant land'?"</p> + +<p>Ruthie had no answer but a kiss and a +smile.</p> + +<p>"There, away with you into the nursery, +both of you. I know Polly Whiting is +lonesome without you."</p> + +<p>Off went the children, Flyaway "with +a heart for any fate," but Dotty still oppressed +by the shadow of the ten-cent +piece.</p> + +<p>"If I don't give it to Prudy, will I be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +dishonest? Will I be as bad as Jennie +Vance?"</p> + +<p>When they entered the nursery, Miss +Polly was standing before the mirror, arranging +her black cap, and weaving into +her collar a square black breast-pin, which +aunt Louise said looked like a gravestone. +Flyaway peeped in too, placing her smooth +pink cheek beside Miss Polly's wrinkled +one.</p> + +<p>"I don't look alike, Miss Polly," said +she; "and you don't look alike too."</p> + +<p>Certainly not; no more alike than a +blush-rose bud and a dried apple.</p> + +<p>"What makes the red go out of folks' +cheeks when they grow old, and the wrinkles +crease in, like the pork in baked +beans?" queried Dotty.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell you," replied the good +lady, giving a pat to her cap, and settling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +the bows carefully; "but if you had asked +how I happened to grow old before my +time, I should say I'd had such a hard +chance through life, and trouble always +leaves its mark."</p> + +<p>"Does it? O, dear! I have trouble,—ever +so much; will it quirk my face all +up, like yours?"</p> + +<p>"You have trouble, Dotty Parlin? Haven't +you found out yet that the lines have fallen +to you in pleasant places?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by lines," +said Dotty, thinking of fish-hooks; "but +when it rains, and folks want me to do +things that are real hard, then why, I'm +blue, now truly."</p> + +<p>"Then we're blue, now truly," added +Flyaway by way of finish.</p> + +<p>"What would you do, children, if you +were driven about, as I used to be, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +post to pillar, with no mother to care for +you?"</p> + +<p>"If I hadn't no mamma, I could go barefoot, +like a dog," said Flyaway, brightening +with the new idea; "I could paddle in +the water too, and eat pepnits."</p> + +<p>"O, child! But what if you had neither +father nor mother?"</p> + +<p>"Then," said Flyaway coolly, "I should +go to some house where there <i>was</i> a father'n +mother."</p> + +<p>"Why, you little heartless thing! But +that is always the way with children; their +parents set their lives by them, but not a +'thank you' do they get for their love! +Try a pinch," continued she, offering her +snuff-box to the little folks, who both declined. +This Polly thought was strange. +They must like snuff if they followed the +natural bent of their noses.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, Katie, as I was saying, you little +know how your mother loves you."</p> + +<p>"Yes um, I do. She loves me more 'n +the river, and the sky, and the bridge. +My papa loves me too, only but he don't +<i>say</i> nuffin' 'bout it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; just so," said Miss Polly, +who talked to the simplest infants just as +she did to grown people. "One of these +days you will look back, and see how +happy you are now, and be sorry you +didn't prize your parents while you had +them."</p> + +<p>Flyaway rested her rosy cheek on Polly's +knee, and watched the gray knitting-work +as it came out of the basket. She did not +understand the sad woman's words, but +was attracted by her loving nature, and +liked to sit near her, a minute at a time, +and have her hair stroked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, now," said Dotty, "you are +knitting, Miss Polly; and it's so lonesome +all round the house, with mother not coming +till to-morrow, that I should think you +might tell—well, tell an anecdote."</p> + +<p>"I don't know where to begin, or what to +say," replied Polly, falling into deep thought.</p> + +<p>"I just believe she does sigh at the end +of every needle," mused Dotty; "I'm going +to keep 'count. That's once."</p> + +<p>"Please, Miss Polly, tell a <i>nanny-goat</i>," +said Flyaway, dancing around the room. +"Please, Miss Polly, and I'll kiss you a +pretty little kiss."</p> + +<p>"Twice," whispered Dotty.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you something that will +pass for an anecdote, on condition that +you call me <i>aunt</i> Polly; that name warms +my heart a great deal better than <i>Miss</i> +Polly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Three!" said Dotty aloud. "We will, +honestly, if we can think of it, aunt Polly.—Four."</p> + +<p>"Le'me gwout for the sidders, first," +said busy Flyaway.</p> + +<p>"There, aunt Polly, you forgot it that +time! You sprang up quick to shut the +door, and forgot it."</p> + +<p>"Forgot what?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't sigh at the end of your +needle."</p> + +<p>"Why, Dotty, how you do talk! Any +one would suppose, by that, I was in the +habit of sighing! I have a stitch in my +side, child, and it makes me draw a long +breath now and then; that's all."</p> + +<p>Flyaway was back again,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With step-step light, and tip-tap slight<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Against the door."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>"Come in," said Dotty, "and see if you +can keep still two whole minutes; but I +know you can't."</p> + +<p>Miss Polly let her work fall in her lap, +and drew up the left sleeve of her black +alpaca dress. "Do you see that scar, +children?"</p> + +<p>It was just below the elbow,—an irregular, +purple mark, about the size of a new +cent.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss—why, aunt Polly!"</p> + +<p>"I've got one on me too," said Flyaway, +pulling at her apron sleeve; "Hollis +did it with the tongs."</p> + +<p>"It can't be; not a scar like mine."</p> + +<p>"Bigger 'n' larger 'n' yours; only but I +can't find it," said Flyaway, carefully twisting +around her dainty white arm, which +Polly kissed, and said was as sweet as a +peach. "Bigger 'n' larger 'n' yours. Where's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +it gone to? O, I feegot—'twas on my +<i>sleeve</i>, and I never put it on to-day."</p> + +<p>"You're a droll child, not to know the +difference between scars and dirt! When +I was almost as young and quite as innocent, +that wicked little boy bit me, and +I shall carry the marks of his teeth to my +grave." With another lingering glance at +the purple mark, Polly drew down her +sleeve, sighed, and began to knit again.</p> + +<p>"Was it the woman's child that made +you dig, that you told about last summer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I was a bound girl."</p> + +<p>"Bound to what?" Dotty was trying +to drown the remembrance of Prudy's ten +cents; so she wished to keep Miss Polly +talking.</p> + +<p>"Bound to Mrs. Potter till I was eighteen +years old. Her husband kept public house. +They made a perfect slave of me. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +I was twelve years old I had to milk three +cows, besides spinning my day's work on +the flax-wheel. And very often all I had +for supper was brown bread and skim milk. +I didn't have any grandfather's house to +go to, with a seat in the trees, and a boat +on the water, and a swing, and a summer +house, and a <i>crocky-set</i> (croquet set). +Not I!"</p> + +<p>Flyaway was cutting paper dolls with all +speed, but her sweet little face was drawn +into curves of pity.</p> + +<p>"Too bad! Naughty folks to give you +<i>skilmick</i>."</p> + +<p>"I had to scour all the knives too. I +did it by drawing them back and forth into +a sand-bank back of the house. This Isaac +I speak of was a lazy boy, and very unkind +to me; but his mother wouldn't hear a +word against him. One day I brushed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +traveller's coat, and got a silver quarter for +my trouble. I thought everything of that +quarter. I had never had so much money +before in my life. I had half a mind to +put it in the Savings Bank; 'and who +knows,' thought I, 'but I can add more to +it, one of these days, and buy my time.'"</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Polly, I didn't know you +could <i>buy</i> time!"</p> + +<p>"But you knew you could throw it away, +I suppose," said Polly, with a sad smile. +"What I mean is this: I wanted to pay +Mrs. Potter some money, so I could go +free before I was eighteen."</p> + +<p>"Then you would be <i>unbound</i>, aunt +Polly."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but one day Isaac found my +money,—I kept it in an old tobacco-box,—and, +just to hector me, he kept tossing +it up in the air, till all of a sudden it fell +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>through a crack in the floor; and that was +the last I saw of it."</p> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/image_07.jpg" alt=""HERE HE IS!"" width="400" height="263" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"HERE HE IS!"</span></p> + +<p>"What a naughty, careless boy!"</p> + +<p>After Dotty had said this, she blushed.</p> + +<p>"Naughty, careless boy!" echoed Flyaway. +"Here he is!" holding up a paper +doll shaped very much like a whale, with +the fin divided for legs, the ears of a cat, +and the arms of a windmill. "Here he is!"</p> + +<p>"He didn't look much like that," said +Polly, laughing. "He had plenty of money +of his own, and I tried to make him give +me back a quarter; but do you believe he +wouldn't, not even a ninepence? And +when I teased him, that was the time he +bit my arm."</p> + +<p>"He oughtn't to bitted your arm, course, +indeed not!"</p> + +<p>"But, aunt Polly," faltered Dotty, whose +efforts to forget the ten-cent piece had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +proved worse than useless, "but it didn't +do Isaac any good to lose your money +down a crack."</p> + +<p>"No, it was sheer mischief."</p> + +<p>"And if it doesn't do folks any good to +lose things, you know, why, what's the +use—to—to—go and get his own money +to pay it back with?—Isaac I mean."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Dotty Parlin? You, +a child that goes to Sabbath school! Don't +you know it is a sin to steal a pin? And +if we lose or injure other people's things, +and don't make it up to them, we're as +good as thieves."</p> + +<p>"As good?"</p> + +<p>"As bad, then."</p> + +<p>"But s'posin'—s'posin' folks lose things +when they <i>don't</i> toss 'em up in the air, +and don't mean to,—the wind, you know, +or a kind of an accident, Miss Polly,—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And s'posin' I didn't have any more +money 'n I wanted myself, and Prudy had +the most—H'm—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Then it isn't as bad as thieves; now is +it? She's got the most. Prudy's older 'n +I am—"</p> + +<p>"Honesty is honesty," said Miss Polly, +firmly, "in young or old. If you've lost +your sister's money, you must make it up +to her."</p> + +<p>"O, must I, Miss Polly? Such a tinty-tonty +mite of money as I've got,—only +sixty-five cents."</p> + +<p>"Honesty is honesty," repeated Miss +Polly, "in rich or poor."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! will my mother say so, too?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother is on the right side, Dotty. +The Bible tells us to 'deal justly.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +There's nothing said there about excusing +poor folks."</p> + +<p>"O, dear! do you s'pose the Bible expects +me to pay Prudy Parlin ten cents, +when it just blew out of my hands, and +didn't do me a speck of good?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Dotty, you surprise me! Any +one would think you were brought up a +heathen! If you were a small child I +could understand it."</p> + +<p>"I knew I should have to do it," moaned +Dotty.</p> + +<p>"I advise you to lose no time about it, +then; that is the cause of your blues, I +guess. We can't be happy out of the line +of our duty," sighed Miss Polly, who regarded +herself as a pattern of cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," +said Dotty, resolutely; "I'm going right +off to pay that money to Prudy, and then +I'll be in the line of my duty."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>FULL NIPPERKIN.</h3> + + +<p>Prudy scorned to take the ten cents. +"Did you think your 'middle-aged' sister +would do such a thing, when she has more +money than you have, Dotty Dimple? If +you're only sorry, that's all I ask. I didn't +like to have you laugh, as if you didn't +care."</p> + +<p>"But, Prudy, I want to be honest."</p> + +<p>"And so you have been, dear child," +said grandma Parlin, with an approving +smile. "If Prudy chooses now to give you +the money, receive it as a present, and +say, 'Thank you.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, thank you, Prudy Parlin, over and +over, and up to the moon," cried Dotty, +throwing her arms around her kind sister's +neck. "I'll never lose anything of yours +again; no, never, never!"</p> + +<p>This lesson was laid away on a shelf in +Dotty's memory. Close beside it was another +lesson, still more wholesome.</p> + +<p>"Dotty Dimple isn't the best girl that +ever lived. She had to be talked to and +talked to, before she was willing to do +right. She isn't any better than Jennie +Vance, after all. Why did she pray that +naughty prayer, just to make Jennie feel +bad? God must have thought it was very +strange!"</p> + +<p>Grandma saw that Dotty's "blues" were +dissolving like a morning mist; still she +knew the child was in need of patchwork, +and told her so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let us all take our work," said she, +"and sit together in the nursery, so we +may forget the dull weather."</p> + +<p>Grace brought her piqué apron down +stairs to make, Susy her tatting, Prudy a +handkerchief, Dotty a square of patchwork, +while Flyaway danced about for a needle +and thread.</p> + +<p>"What a happy group!" said Mrs. Clifford, +looking up from her sewing. She +had forgotten Polly Whiting, who was +mournfully toeing off a sock for Horace, +while he sat on the floor, at her feet, mending +her double-covered basket.</p> + +<p>"Why, Katie, darling," said Grace, "what +are you doing with that beautiful ribbon?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Louise said I might make a bag, +Gracie—"</p> + +<p>"Seems to me aunt Louise lets you do +everything; I shouldn't want you to spoil +that ribbon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They shan't bother my little Topknot," +said Horace, with a sweep of his thumb. +"She is going to have all my clothes to +make bags of, when she grows up."</p> + +<p>Flyaway, who knew she had a good right +to the ribbon, pressed her eyelids together +slowly.</p> + +<p>"If I's Gracie," said she, severely, "I'd +make aprons; if I's mamma I'd sew dresses; +if I's Flywer, I'd do just's I want to."</p> + +<p>And then she went on sewing; without +any thimble.</p> + +<p>"Girls, have you guessed yet why a +wheelbarrow is like a potato?"</p> + +<p>"No, Horace; why is it?"</p> + +<p>"O, I was in hopes you could tell. I +don't know, I am sure. It is as much as +I can do to make up a conundrum, without +finding out the answer."</p> + +<p>The children laughed at this, but none<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +of them so loud as Flyaway, who thought +her brother the wisest, wittiest, and noblest +specimen of boyhood that ever lived.</p> + +<p>"How our needles do fly!" said Dotty, +merrily.</p> + +<p>She was a neat and swift little seamstress, +even superior to Prudy.</p> + +<p>"See," said Flyaway to Horace; "I work +faster 'n my mamma, 'cause she's got a big +dress to work on: of course she can't sew +so quick as I can on a little bag."</p> + +<p>"Prudy can sew better and faster than +I can," said Dotty, with a sudden gush of +humility.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dotty Dimple, I don't think so," +returned Prudy, quite surprised.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," said aunt Maria; "I +am afraid our little Dotty is hardly sincere."</p> + +<p>Dotty's head drooped a little. "I know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +it, auntie; I do sew the nicest; but I +was afraid it wouldn't be polite if I told +it just as it was, and Prudy so good to +me, too."</p> + +<p>"If she is good, is that any reason why +you should tell her a wrong story?" remarked +the plain-spoken Susy, giving a +twitch to her tatting-thread.</p> + +<p>"Children," said Mrs. Clifford, laughing, +"do you remember those hideous green +goggles I wore a year ago?"</p> + +<p>"O, yes 'm," replied Grace; "they made +your eyes stick out so! Why, you looked +like a frog, ma', more than anything else."</p> + +<p>"Well, a certain lady of my acquaintance +was so polite as to tell me my goggles +were very becoming."</p> + +<p>"O, ma, who could it have been?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer not to give you her name. I +appreciated her kind wish to please me, +but I could not think her sincere."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, Susy," said Grace, "if you could +have seen those goggles! A little basket +for each eye, made of green wire, like a +fly cover! Ma, did you ever believe a +word that lady said afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"Flatterers are not generally to be trusted," +replied Mrs. Clifford. "Flyaway, that +is the fourth needle you have lost."</p> + +<p>Here was another lesson for Dotty's +memory-shelf. "I must not say things that +are not true, just to be polite. It is flattering +and wicked; and besides that, people +always know better."</p> + +<p>It was a quiet, busy, cheerful day. Dotty +forgot to complain of the weather. Just +before supper Flyaway jumped down from +her grandpapa's knee, where she had been +talking to him through his "conversation-tube," +and ran to the window.</p> + +<p>"Why, 'tisn't raining," cried she; "true's +I'm walking on this floor 'tisn't raining!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dotty clapped her hands, and watched +the sun coming out like pure gold, and +turning the dark clouds into silver.</p> + +<p>"We were patient and willing for it to +rain," said she; "but of course that wasn't +why it cleared off."</p> + +<p>And it wasn't why Flyaway lost her +thumb-nail, either. She lost that—or half +of it—in the crack of the door. The +poor little thumb was very painful, and +had to be put in a cot.</p> + +<p>"It wearies me," said Flyaway; "it makes +me afraid I shan't ever have a nail on +there again."</p> + +<p>Her mother assured her she would. The +same God who calls up the little blades of +grass out of the ground could make a finger-nail +grow.</p> + +<p>"Will He?" said Flyaway, smiling +through tears; "but 'haps He'll forget how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +it looks. Musn't I save a piece of my +nail, mamma, and lay it up on the shelf, +so He can see it, and make the other one +like it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford put the nail in her jewel-box, +and I dare say it may be there to +this day.</p> + +<p>Just as Flyaway, in her nightie, was +having a frolic with Grace, there was a +sound of wheels. The stage, which Horace +called the "Oriole" because it had a yellow +breast, was rolling into the yard.</p> + +<p>"It's my mother—my mother," cried +the three Parlins together.</p> + +<p>Yes, and who was that little girl getting +down just after her? Her hat covered her +eyes. "It isn't Tate Penny!" Why, to +be sure it was! There was her dimpled +chin; and if that wasn't proof enough, +there was the wart on her thumb!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>To think such a glorious thing as this +could happen to Dotty! and she not the +best girl in the world either! A visit +from her bosom friend! "Aunt 'Ria, do +you understand? Aunt Louise? Gracie? +This is <i>Tate Penny</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Who asked her to come? How did +she happen to be with mamma, the same +day, in the same cars?"</p> + +<p>Well, grandma Parlin invited her to +come. "When one lives in an India-rubber +house," she said, "a few people more +or less make no difference at all. She +wished Dotty's 'nipperkin' of happiness to +be full for once."</p> + +<p>And it was: it ran over. There were +joyful days for the next fortnight. I could +never draw the picture of them with my +pen, even if I had the paper left to put +it on. They kept house under the trees;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +they baked their food in a brick oven +Horace made; they gave a party; they had +boat rides; they had swings; they never +went into the house unless it rained; they +were never cross to one another, or rude +to Jennie Vance; it was like living in +fairy-land.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious summer. I almost +wish it had not come to an end; though, +in that case, I suppose I should never +have stopped telling about it. By and by +vacation was over, and Tate went off in +the same stage with the Parlins. You +could never guess what she and Dotty each +put so carefully into their bosoms, to keep +"forever." It was a splinter of the dear +old barn where they had had such good +times jumping!</p> + +<p>Three weeks afterwards the "Oriole" +drove up to grandpapa Parlin's again, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +this time for the Cliffords. Flyaway danced +into it like a piece of thistle-down. Everybody +threw good-by kisses, and the stage +rattled away.</p> + +<p>And after that, dears, as Flyaway will +say to her grandchildren, "things went into +a mist." And this is all I have to tell +you about the Parlins, the Cliffords, and +the Willowbrook home.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h3> + DOTTY DIMPLE STORIES.</h3> +<h4> + To be completed in six vols. Handsomely Illustrated.<br /> + + Each vol., 75 cts.</h4> +<p class="sig"> + +1. <i>DOTTY DIMPLE AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S</i>.<br /> +2.<i> DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME</i>.<br /> +3. <i>DOTTY DIMPLE OUT WEST</i>.<br /> +4. <i>DOTTY DIMPLE AT PLAY</i>.<br /> +5. <i>DOTTY DIMPLE AT SCHOOL</i>.<br /> +6. <i>DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY</i>.</p> + +<h4> + +BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</h4> +<h3> + LITTLE PRUDY STORIES.</h3> +<h4> + Now complete. Six vols. 24mo. Handsomely Illustrated.<br /> + In a neat box. Per vol., 75 cts. Comprising</h4> +<p class="sig"> + +<i>LITTLE PRUDY</i>.<br /> +<i>LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSIE</i>.<br /> +<i>LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE</i>.<br /> +<i>LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACE</i>.<br /> +<i>LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK</i>.<br /> +<i>LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE</i>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dotty Dimple's Flyaway, by Sophie May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY *** + +***** This file should be named 19247-h.htm or 19247-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/4/19247/ + +Produced by Sigal Alon, La Monte H.P. 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