Next time she tried so very hard to sit still that she swayed to and
fro like a slender-stemmed flower when the wind goes over it. The
picture was blurred.
"O, Fly, you must keep your shoulders still," said Prudy, looking as
anxious as the old woman in the shoe.
"I didn't never want to come here," said the child; "when I sit so
still, Prudy, it 'most gives me a pain."
"But you haven't sat still yet, not a minute."
"I could, you know, Prudy, _or nelse_ I didn't have to breeve,"
groaned Flyaway, lifting her eyebrows.
"Another one spoiled," said the artist, trying to smile.
"Yes," said Dotty, who felt none of the care. "Once it was her head,
and then it was her shoulders; and now her eyebrows are all of a
quirk."
Poor little Flyaway felt as much out of place as a grape-vine would
feel, if it had to make believe it was a pine tree.
"Wisht I'd said 'no,' 'stead o' 'yes,'" murmured she, puckering her
mouth to the size of a very small button-hole.
"This will never do," said the patient artist, almost in despair.
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