"Yes," replied patient grandma for the fifth time; "you may do
anything you like with it, except to buy colored candy."
As they were trundling the wheelbarrow out of the yard, Horace came up
from the garden.
"Prudy," said he, with rather a shame-faced glance at his favorite
cousin, "you girls will cut a pretty figure, parading through the
streets like a gang of pedlers. Come, let me be the driver."
"O, we thought you couldn't leave your flower-beds, sir," replied
Prudy, sweeping a courtesy.
"Well, the weeds _are_ pretty tough, ma'am; roots 'way down in China,
and the Emperor objects to parting with 'em; but--"
"Poh! we don't need any boys," cried the self-sustained Miss Dimple;
"if your hands are too soft, Prudy, you mustn't push. Wait and see
what Dotty Dimple can do."
"O, then, if you spurn me and my offer, good by. I suppose my little
Topknot goes for _surplusage_," said Horace, who liked now and then to
puzzle Dotty with a new word. He meant that Flyaway was of no use, but
rather in the way.
"No, she needn't do any such thing," returned Dotty.
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