"There, she's safe," said Abner; "she needs as much looking after as
a young turkey."
"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!"
The moment Flyaway reached the house, she rushed into the parlor to
tell her mother the news.
"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."
"O, no, my child; it is thousands of years since Daniel was in the
lions' den; he died long and long ago."
"But he said he did, mamma; he told me so. I _fought_ he was dead,
mamma, but he said he wasn't."
Mrs. Clifford shook her head. "I dare say his name is Daniel, but he
was never in a lion's den."
Flyaway opened and closed her eyes in the slowest and most impressive
manner. "Mamma," said she, solemnly, "does--folks--tell--lies?"
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.
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