"Four--goin' to be five!
Wish I was most six. Dotty Dimpul, don't you wish _you's_ most a
_hunderd_?"
"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?"
"O, I eat my bread 'n' milk that side o' my mouf," replied Flyaway;
"and that's why."
"What an idea! And your hair is just as fine as ever it was; the color
of my ring--isn't it, Prudy?"
Flyaway put her little hand to her head, and felt the floss flying
about as usual.
"My hair comes all to pieces," explained she; "_or nelse_ I have a
ribbon to tie it up with."
"Are you glad to come back to Willowbrook, you precious little dear?"
asked two or three voices.
"Yes 'm," said Flyaway, doubtfully; "Y--es--um."
"She doesn't remember anything about it, I guess," said Prudy,
kneeling before the little one, and kissing the sweet place in her
neck.
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