Clifford's
arm, like a frightened chicken under its mother's wing. Mrs. Clifford
looked troubled. She was afraid the little one could not be made to
understand it. Horace came to her aid.
"Hold up your head, little Topknot, and hear brother talk. Once there
were three little girls, and they all travelled round with a
wheelbarrow. By and by they came to a man's house on wheels."
"Yes," said Flyaway, starting up; "I 'member."
"And the wee girl, with dove's eyes--"
"O, O, that's me!"
"She couldn't keep still, and couldn't get any picture."
"No, _tin-tybe_; 'cause--'cause--"
"And all the while there was something in the man's house they kept
breathing into their noses, and it made them grow sleepy."
"Just so?" asked Flyaway, sniffing.
"Yes; and by and by the little one with dove's eyes was as stupid as
that woman you saw lying down in the street with the pig looking at
her."
"Me? Was I a _drunken_?" said Flyaway, in a subdued tone.
"O, no," put in Dotty; "it wasn't whiskey, it was _either_; and I
didn't know much more than you did, Fly Clifford.
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