Fly ran and courtesied before the mirror in her nightie.
"O, Kitty Clifford, Kitty Clifford," she cried, "when'll you be a cat?"
"Pretty soon, if you can catch mice as well as you can mew," laughed auntie; "but look you, my dear; are you going to bed to-night? or shall I shut you down cellar?"
"Don't shut me down cellow, auntie," cried the mocking-bird, crowing like a chicken; "shut me in the barn with the banties."
Next moment it occurred to the child that this style of behavior was not very "speckerful;" so she hastily dropped on her knees before her auntie, and began to say her prayers. The change was so sudden, from the shrill crow of a chicken to the gentle voice of a little girl praying, that no one could keep a sober face. Prudy ran into the closet, and Dotty laughed into her handkerchief.
"There, now, that's done," said Flyaway, jumping up as suddenly as she had knelt down. "Now I must pray Flipperty."
And before any one could think what the child meant to do, she had dragged out her dolly, and knelt it on the rug, face downward, over her own lap.
"O, the wicked creature!" whispered Dotty. But Aunt Madge said nothing.
"Pray," said the little one, in a tone of command. Then, in a fine, squeaking voice, Fly repeated a prayer. It was intended to be Flipperty's voice, and Flipperty was too young to talk plain.
"There, that will do," said Aunt Madge, her large gray eyes trying not to twinkle; "did she ever say her prayers before?"