"She isn't a Yankee child--is she?"
"No, sir," replied Dotty, quickly; "she is a _westerness_."
She had heard Horace use the word, and presumed it was correct.
"I do wish Dotty would be more afraid of strangers," thought Prudy. "I
never will take her anywhere again--with a wheelbarrow."
Flyaway fluttered around for a minute, and then alighted upon her
favorite sweet-meats, "_pepnits_." She chose for her portion a large
amount of these, an harmonica, and a sugar pig, which Dotty assured
her was not "colored." "Nothing but pink dots, and those you can pick
off."
"The rags came to seventy-five cents, and this young lady has now had
her third; here is the remainder," said Mr. Bradley, smiling as he
gave each of the little Parlins some money, and bowed them out of the
store.
"I'll put it in _my_ porte-monnaie, sir; my sister Prudy didn't bring
hers."
"What makes you talk so much, Dotty Dimple?" said Prudy, "that man
has been making sport of us all the time."
"Did he?" said Dotty, solemnly. "I'm 'stonished at grandma Parlin
letting us sell rags! Wish this wheelbarrow was in the _Stiftic
Ocean_.
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