"You didn't sigh at the end of your needle."
"Why, Dotty, how you do talk! Any one would suppose, by that, I was in the habit of sighing! I have a stitch in my side, child, and it makes me draw a long breath now and then; that's all."
Flyaway was back again,
"With step-step light, and tip-tap slight
Against the door."
"Come in," said Dotty, "and see if you can keep still two whole minutes; but I know you can't."
Miss Polly let her work fall in her lap, and drew up the left sleeve of her black alpaca dress. "Do you see that scar, children?"
It was just below the elbow,—an irregular, purple mark, about the size of a new cent.
"Why, Miss—why, aunt Polly!"
"I've got one on me too," said Flyaway, pulling at her apron sleeve; "Hollis did it with the tongs."
"It can't be; not a scar like mine."