Nothing to be seen but trees.
Flyaway began to cry from sheer fright, as well as pain. "'Tis a
defful day! I can't _stay_ in this day!"
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.
"Somebody don't take 'are o' me," wailed she; "somebody gone off, lef'
me alone!"
She was dreadfully hungry. "When _was_ 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 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.
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.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43