Little Folks Astray | Page 7

glass house over it!"
"A clock."
"What a funny clock! It looks like a little dog wagging its tail."
"That's the penderlum," explained Dotty; "it beats the time. Every clock
has a penderlum. Generally hangs down before though, and this hangs
behind. I declare, Prudy, it does look like a dog wagging its tail."

"Hark! it strikes eight," said Aunt Madge. "Time little girls were in bed,
getting rested for a happy day to-morrow."
"I don't spect that thing knows what time it is," said Fly, gazing at the
clock doubtfully, "and my eyes are all opened out; but if you want me
to, auntie, I will!"
So Flyaway slipped off her clothes in a twinkling.
"We're going to lie, all three, in this big bed, Fly, just for one night,"
said Dotty; "and after that we must take turns which shall sleep with
you. There, child, you're all undressed, and I haven't got my boots off
yet. You're quicker'n a chain o' lightning, and always was."
"Why, how did that kitty get in here?" said auntie, as a loud mewing
was heard. "I certainly shut her out before we came up stairs."
Dotty ran round the room, with one boot on, and Prudy in her stockings,
helping their aunt in the search. The kitten was not under the bed, or in
either of the closets, or inside the curtains.
"Look ahind the pendlum," said Fly, laughing and skipping about in
high glee; "look ahind the pendlum; look atween the pillow-case."
Still the mewing went on.
"O, here is the kitty--I've found her," said auntie, suddenly seizing Fly
by the shoulders, and stopping her mocking-bird mouth. "Poor pussy,
she has turned white--white all over!"
"You don't mean to say that was Fly Clifford?" cried Prudy.
"Shut her up, auntie," said Dotty Dimple; "she's a kitty. I always knew
her name was Kitty."
Fly ran and courtesied before the mirror in her nightie.
"O, Kitty Clifford, Kitty Clifford," she cried, "when'll you be a cat?"

"Pretty soon, if you can catch mice as well as you can mew," laughed
auntie; "but look you, my dear; are you going to bed to-night? or shall I
shut you down cellar?"
"Don't shut me down cellow, auntie," cried the mocking-bird, crowing
like a chicken; "shut me in the barn with the banties."
Next moment it occurred to the child that this style of behavior was not
very "speckerful;" so she hastily dropped on her knees before her auntie,
and began to say her prayers. The change was so sudden, from the shrill
crow of a chicken to the gentle voice of a little girl praying, that no one
could keep a sober face. Prudy ran into the closet, and Dotty laughed
into her handkerchief.
"There, now, that's done," said Flyaway, jumping up as suddenly as she
had knelt down. "Now I must pray Flipperty."
And before any one could think what the child meant to do, she had
dragged out her dolly, and knelt it on the rug, face downward, over her
own lap.
"O, the wicked creature!" whispered Dotty. But Aunt Madge said
nothing.
"Pray," said the little one, in a tone of command. Then, in a fine,
squeaking voice, Fly repeated a prayer. It was intended to be Flipperty's
voice, and Flipperty was too young to talk plain.
"There, that will do," said Aunt Madge, her large gray eyes trying not
to twinkle; "did she ever say her prayers before?"
"Yes, um; she's a goody girl--when I 'member to pray her!"
"Well, dear, I wouldn't 'pray her' any more. It makes us laugh to see
such a droll sight, and nobody wishes to laugh when you are talking to
your Father in heaven."
"No'm," replied Flyaway, winking her eyes solemnly.

But when the "three abed" had been tucked in and kissed, Fly called her
auntie back to ask, "How can Flipperty grow up a goody girl athout she
says her prayers?"
There was such a mixture of play and earnestness in the child's eyes,
that auntie had to turn away her face before she could answer seriously.
"Why, little girls can think and feel you know; but with dollies it is
different. Now, good night, pet; you won't have beautiful dreams, if
you talk any more."
CHAPTER IV.
"TAKING OUR AIRS."
Flyaway awoke singing, and sprang up in bed, saying,--
"Why, I thought I's a car, and that's why I whissiled."
"But you are not a car," yawned Prudy; "please don't sing again, or
dance, either."
"It's the happerness in me, Prudy; and that's what dances; it's the
happerness."
"That's the worst part of Fly Clifford," groaned Dotty; "she won't keep
still in the morning. Might have known there wouldn't be any peace
after she got here."
Dotty always came out of sleep by slow