But her "dee" mamma could not hear her; she was in the city of Augusta; and as for the rest of the family, they supposed Flyaway was playing "catch" with Dotty Dimple in the barn.
CHAPTER IV.
"A RAILROAD SAVAGE."
It now occurred to little Flyaway, with a sudden pang, that she must have come to the end of the world. "Yes, cerdily!" The world was full of folks and houses,—this place was nothing but trees. The world had horses and wagons in it,—this place hadn't. "O dee!"
Where was the hill gone, on the top of which stood that big house they called heaven,—the house where Charlie lived and played in the garden? Why, that hill had just walked off, and the house too! She parted the bushes and peeped through. Nothing to be seen but trees. Flyaway began to cry from sheer fright, as well as pain. "'Tis a defful day! I can't stay in this day!"
More trouble had come to her than she knew how to bear; but worst of all was the cruel stab of the bumblebee. She pitied her aching "fum," and kissed it herself to make it feel better; but all in vain; "the pain kept on and on;" the "fum" grew big as fast as the candy had grown little.
"Somebody don't take 'are o' me," wailed she; "somebody gone off, lef' me alone!"
She was dreadfully hungry. "When was it be dinner time?" She would not have been in the least surprised, but very much pleased, if a bird had flown down with a plate of roast lamb in his bill, and set it on the ground before her. Simple little Flyaway! Or if her far-away mother had sprung out from behind a tree with a bed in her arms, the tired baby would have jumped into the bed and asked no questions.