"You said you's goin' to take me to aunt Marfie's; why didn't you?"
"O, we did; we took you, you know."
"Dotty Dimpul, I shouldn't think you'd make any believe."
"I'm not 'making any believe'—am I, Prudy?"
"No, Fly, she isn't. We pulled you along,—don't you remember?—and you hung back, and said, 'I am so tired.'"
"I don't 'member," said Flyaway, slowly and sadly. "I shouldn't think you'd make any believe, Prudy."
"We'll ask your mamma, then; she tells the truth. Aunt 'Riah, didn't we take Flyaway to aunt Martha's this morning, and didn't you go there too?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Clifford; "but it wasn't much of a visit,—was it, darling!—when you slept most of the time, and didn't have a mouthful of dinner?"
Flyaway sighed heavily, and looked at her mother. "O, mamma! mamma!"
"What is it, dear?"