Flyaway said no more, but she pressed her eyelids together again, and felt that she had been trifled with. Half an hour afterwards Prudy heard her repeating, slowly, to herself, "Folks—does—tell—lies."
"Why, here she is," called Dotty from the piazza; "come, Fly; we're going wheel-barrowing."
"Wait a minute, cousin Dotty," said Mrs. Clifford; "Flyaway must put on a clean frock; she is not coming home with you, but you are to leave her at aunt Martha's. I shall meet her there at dinner time."
"O, mamma, may I? I love you a hundred rooms full. Let me go bring my buttoner bootner quick's a minute."
Flyaway was not long in getting ready. She was never long about anything.
"You said we might have all the money, we three—didn't you, grandma?" asked Dotty again, at the last moment, thinking how glad she was Jennie had gone home, and would not claim a share.
"Yes," replied patient grandma for the fifth time; "you may do anything you like with it, except to buy colored candy."
As they were trundling the wheelbarrow out of the yard, Horace came up from the garden.
"Prudy," said he, with rather a shame-faced glance at his favorite cousin, "you girls will cut a pretty figure, parading through the streets like a gang of pedlers. Come, let me be the driver."
"O, we thought you couldn't leave your flower-beds, sir," replied Prudy, sweeping a courtesy.