dragged out her dolly, and knelt it on the rug, face downward, over her
own lap.

"O, the wicked creature!" whispered Dotty. But Aunt Madge said nothing.

"Pray," said the little one, in a tone of command. Then, in a fine,
squeaking voice, Fly repeated a prayer. It was intended to be
Flipperty's voice, and Flipperty was too young to talk plain.

"There, that will do," said Aunt Madge, her large gray eyes trying not
to twinkle; "did she ever say her prayers before?"

"Yes, um; she's a goody girl--when I 'member to pray her!"

"Well, dear, I wouldn't 'pray her' any more. It makes us laugh to see
such a droll sight, and nobody wishes to laugh when you are talking to
your Father in heaven."

"No'm," replied Flyaway, winking her eyes solemnly.

But when the "three abed" had been tucked in and kissed, Fly called her
auntie back to ask, "How can Flipperty grow up a goody girl _athout_ she
says her prayers?"

There was such a mixture of play and earnestness in the child's eyes,
that auntie had to turn away her face before she could answer seriously.

"Why, little girls can think and feel you know; but with dollies it is
different. Now, good night, pet; you won't have beautiful dreams, if you
talk any more."