"
Up went the little hands to the flossy hair. "It won't stay, Prudy,
_or nelse_ you tie it."
"I shall brush it, the very last minute, Flyaway. All you must do is
sit still. Mayn't she look at your watch, sir, just to keep her eyes
from moving?"
"No matter what she looks at," replied the artist; "but she must keep
that little head of hers straight."
His tone was firm; he hoped to awe her into quietness. Flyaway was
frightened, and clung to Prudy for protection. "Don't the gemplum love
little gee--urls?" said she, in a voice as low and sad as a dying
dove's.
Mr. Poindexter laughed, and stroked the beautiful floss lovingly.
"Just turn your sweet little face this way, dear child; that's all."
"O, my shole! Must I turn my face to my back!" said Flyaway,
bewildered.
"No, no; look at this picture on the wall. See what it is, so you can
tell your mother."
"It's a bridge, and a man, and a fish," said Flyaway, flashing a
glance at it.
"There, smooth your forehead; now you will do." And so she did, for
two seconds, till she began to squint, to see whether it was a fish or
a dog; and that picture was spoiled.
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