The children looked up street and down street. No wheelbarrow in
sight. "We must go to aunt Martha's, and then come back and hunt for
it, if we have to go without our dinners," they said. They took
Flyaway between them, and marched her off. She was almost as passive
as a rag baby, ready to drop down anywhere, and fall asleep. "'Cause I
_am_ so tired," said she.
Aunt Martha cordially invited the two cousins to dine. They thanked
her, but no, they must find the wheelbarrow. "We shan't say, certain
positive, that bugglers took it, but we s'pose so," said Dotty,
softening her judgment, as she remembered her mistake about the
"screw-up pencil." They went home through the broiling sun, but found
no trace of the wheelbarrow.
"It's a dreadful thing," said Prudy, lazily, "but I don't feel as bad
as I should if I was fairly awake."
"Me, too," yawned Dotty; "I wish we could lie down under the trees,
and go to sleep."
They had been a long while in the close saloon, inhaling ether, and
this was the cause of their languor.
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