upon her meditations.

"O, what a Flyaway!" said she; "you don't do any good."

"Yes, I does."

"Well, what?"

"O, I tell 'tories."

"Is that all?"

"I p'ay with little goorls; and then I p'ay some more; and I wash de
dishes. I'll tell _you_ a 'tory," added she, balancing herself on a
stump, and making wild gestures with her arms, somewhat as she had seen
Horace do.

"'Woe to de Dotties and sons 'o men,
Woe to 'em all when I yoam again!'"

One wee forefinger pointed up to the sky; the right hand, doubled to a
threatening little fist, was shaken at Dotty, while the young orator's
face was so wrinkled with scowls that Dotty laughed outright.

"Do speak that again," she said. "You are the cunningest baby!"

'"Woe to de Dotties--!' No, I can't tell it 'thout I have sumpin to
stan' on!" sighed Miss Flyaway, falling off the stump directly against
Dotty.