That was why I lost
your money, Prudy; I just about know it was."
Flyaway began to understand. The look of fear and distrust went out of
her eyes, and she threw her arms round her mother's neck, kissing her
again and again.
"_'Haps_ I did go to aunt Marfie's, mamma; _'haps_ I was asleep!"
"That's right, Miss Topknot," cried Horace; "now your brother'll carry
you pickaback."
A little while afterward Mrs. Clifford began a letter to her husband.
"I am going to tell papa about his little girl--that she is very
well."
"O, no, you needn't, mamma," said Flyaway, laughing; "papa knows it. I
was well at home."
"What shall I tell him, then?"
Flyaway thought a moment.
"Tell him all the folks doesn't tell lies," said she, earnestly; "only
but the naughty folks tells lies."
So that was settled; and Flyaway decided to write off the whole story,
and send to her father--a mixture of little sharp zigzags, curves, and
dots. When Horace asked her what these meant, she said "she couldn't
'member now; but papa would know.
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