"I'll put it in my porte-monnaie, sir; my sister Prudy didn't bring hers."
"What makes you talk so much, Dotty Dimple?" said Prudy, "that man has been making sport of us all the time."
"Did he?" said Dotty, solemnly. "I'm 'stonished at grandma Parlin letting us sell rags! Wish this wheelbarrow was in the Stiftic Ocean."
"But it isn't, little sister, and the worst of it is, we've got to take it to the photograph saloon; it's so far home and back again."
"Got to take the ole wheelbarrel every single where we go," pouted Flyaway, as drearily as either of her cousins.
"You needn't mind it, though," said Dotty, giving the one-wheeled coach a hard push; "a little girl that's going visiting, and have succotash for dinner."
"I didn't know I was. O, I am so glad! What is it!"
"Corn and beans. Aunt Martha's girl is the best cook,—makes cherry pudding. Dear, dear, dear! Wish I was in Portland; see 'f I wouldn't go to Tate Penny's, and have some salmon and ice-cream!"
Down the beautiful shaded street walked the three little rag-pedlers; and it did seem as if they were met by all the people in town, from the minister down to the barefoot boys going fishing. At last they arrived at the house on wheels.
"Now I'll tell you, Fly, what we're going to do," said Prudy. "Dotty and I want to have our tin-types taken, to give to grandma, as a pleasant surprise. We'll pay for yours too, if you'll sit for it."