Before the tired young traveller knew where she was, a little hand was busy at the door knob, and a baby voice called out,—
"Dottee, Dottee, is you waked up?"
"O, now I know where I am! This is Aunt 'Ria's house, and that little snip of a Flyaway is trying to get in. O, dear, dear, how far off I am! Prudy Parlin, I wonder if you're thinking about me?"
"Dottee! Dottee!" called the small voice again.
"O, I s'pose that baby'll stand at the door all day."
But just then the knob turned, and in rushed Flyaway out of breath.
"Good-morning, Miss Topknot," said Dotty, addressing her by one of the dove-names Horace was so fond of using.
"O, I's pitty well," replied Flyaway, dancing across the room. "I didn't sleep any till las' night. I d'eamed awtul d'eams; so I kep' awake, and wouldn't go to sleep."
And into bed climbed the little one, laying her head, with its tangled floss, right across Dotty's face.
"Dear me!" sighed Dotty, rubbing the floss out of her eyes. "Such hair! I should think you wore a wig! I'm sleepy; can't you let me be?"