"There, smooth your forehead; now you will do." And so she did, for two seconds, till she began to squint, to see whether it was a fish or a dog; and that picture was spoiled.
Next time she tried so very hard to sit still that she swayed to and fro like a slender-stemmed flower when the wind goes over it. The picture was blurred.
"O, Fly, you must keep your shoulders still," said Prudy, looking as anxious as the old woman in the shoe.
"I didn't never want to come here," said the child; "when I sit so still, Prudy, it 'most gives me a pain."
"But you haven't sat still yet, not a minute."
"I could, you know, Prudy, or nelse I didn't have to breeve," groaned Flyaway, lifting her eyebrows.
"Another one spoiled," said the artist, trying to smile.
"Yes," said Dotty, who felt none of the care. "Once it was her head, and then it was her shoulders; and now her eyebrows are all of a quirk."
Poor little Flyaway felt as much out of place as a grape-vine would feel, if it had to make believe it was a pine tree.
"Wisht I'd said 'no,' 'stead o' 'yes,'" murmured she, puckering her mouth to the size of a very small button-hole.