"Hollis says it's K; stands for Flyaway."

"Well, you're such a pretty little pink, I guess I'll take it; but
'tain't wuth lookin' at," said the crafty old woman, who saw at a glance
it was pure linen, and quite fine.

"Now run along, baby; your mummer will be waitin' for you."

Fly walked on slowly. Ought she to have parted with her very best
hangerfiss!

"Nice ole lady, loved little gee-urls; but what you s'pose folks was
goin' to cry into now?"

Tears started at the thought. One of them dropped into the eye of the
squirrel, who sat on the muff, peeping up into her face.

"Nice ole lady, I s'pose; but folks never wanted to buy my
_hangerfisses_ byfore!" thought Fly, much puzzled by the state of
society in New York. "And I've got some beau-fler flowers to my auntie's
house. Wake up--wake up!" added she, blowing open a pink rose-bud;
"you's too little for me."

But the bud did not wish to wake up and be a rose; it curled itself
together, and went to sleep again.

"I don't see where Hollis stays to all the time," exclaimed the little
one, beginning to have a faint curiosity about it.