CHAPTER IV.

"TAKING OUR AIRS."


Flyaway awoke singing, and sprang up in bed, saying,--

"Why, I thought I's a car, and that's why I whissiled."

"But you are not a car," yawned Prudy; "please don't sing again, or
dance, either."

"It's the _happerness_ in me, Prudy; and that's what dances; it's the
happerness."

"That's the worst part of Fly Clifford," groaned Dotty; "she won't keep
still in the morning. Might have known there wouldn't be any peace after
she got here."

Dotty always came out of sleep by slow stages, and her affections were
the last part of her to wake up. Just now she did not love Katie
Clifford one bit, nor her own mother either.

"Won't you light the lamp?" piped Flyaway.

"Please don't, Fly," said Prudy; "don't talk!"