After a nice bath, at which Prudy and Dotty presided, the little one was dressed in her nightie, and set on her brother's knee again.
"Prudy said I'd feel better to be baved," said she, looking thoughtfully at the gas-light; "but now I was baved, and I don't feel any diffunt; I feel just's I did by-fore."
"When can she have taken such a cold?" said Horace; "don't you see, Prue, she can't breathe out of her nose?"
Then Fly remembered the orange-man, and something made her face grow red in a minute; but it was not the white tea.
"Pitiful about my signess," sighed she, and thought she would never, never tell of her own disobedience. But Horace saw the blush and heard the sigh.
"I am glad Fly always minds," said he, looking straight into the little guilty face. "For God sees everything she does," whispered he, solemnly.
Horace never spoke of such subjects to other people; you would not suppose they were much in his mind; but to this precious little sister he gave his best thoughts, so far as he could make her understand them.
"For God sees everything she does."
Fly did not speak for as much as a minute, and then she said, timidly,—
"Hollis, I want to ask you sumpin; does God wear spetticles?"