"There, now, Hollis," said Fly, drawing her mouth down and her eyebrows
up, "where's my skipt? _my_ skipt?"

"What? A little snip like you mustn't have money," answered Horace,
carelessly; "auntie gave it to me."

The moment he had spoken the words, he was sorry, for the child was too
young and sensitive to be trifled with. She never doubted that her great
cruel brother had robbed her. It was too much. Her "dove's eyes" shot
fire. Flyaway could be terribly angry, and her anger was "as quick as a
chain o' lightning." Before any one had time to think twice, she had
turned on her little heel, and was running away. With one impulse the
whole party turned and followed.

"Prudy and I haven't breath enough to run," said Aunt Madge. "Here we
are at Stewart's. You'll find us in the rotunda, Horace. Come back here
with Fly, as soon as you have caught her."

As soon as he had caught her!

They were on Broadway, which was lined with people, moving to and fro.
Horace and Dotty had to push their way through the crowd, while little
Fly seemed to float like a creature of air.

"Stop, Fly! Stop, Fly!" cried Horace; but that only added speed to her
wings.

"She's like a piece of thistle-down," laughed Horace; "when you get near
her you blow her away."