"O, how it makes me _shivvle_!" said she.
"Katie!" called out a voice.
"Here me are!" gurgled the little one, her mouth under the pump-nose.
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.
"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'."
"Yes, you little naughty girl, and you kept pumping and pumping."
"I'm isn't little naughty goorl," thought Katie, indignantly; "but
Ruthie's naughty goorl, and Hollis _velly_ naughty goorl."
"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."
Flyaway thrust her hand into her wet pocket to make sure the wee vial
of white dots was still there.
"I fished her out of a pail of water," said Horace; "to-morrow I shall
find her in a bird's nest.
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