"
"O, Susy," said Grace, "if you could have seen those goggles! A little
basket for each eye, made of green wire, like a fly cover! Ma, did you
ever believe a word that lady said afterwards?"
"Flatterers are not generally to be trusted," replied Mrs. Clifford.
"Flyaway, that is the fourth needle you have lost."
Here was another lesson for Dotty's memory-shelf. "I must not say
things that are not true, just to be polite. It is flattering and
wicked; and besides that, people always know better."
It was a quiet, busy, cheerful day. Dotty forgot to complain of the
weather. Just before supper Flyaway jumped down from her grandpapa's
knee, where she had been talking to him through his "conversation-tube,"
and ran to the window.
"Why, 'tisn't raining," cried she; "true's I'm walking on this floor
'tisn't raining!"
Dotty clapped her hands, and watched the sun coming out like pure
gold, and turning the dark clouds into silver.
"We were patient and willing for it to rain," said she; "but of course
that wasn't why it cleared off.
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