CHAPTER X.
RIDING ON JACK FROST.
Fly slept in a little cot beside her hostess's bed. Mrs. Pragoff, poor lady, reclined half the night on her elbow, watching the child's breathing; but, to her inexpressible relief, nothing happened that was at all alarming. Fly only waked once in the night, and asked in a drowsy tone, "Have I got a measle?"
But just as Mrs. Pragoff was enjoying a morning nap, a pair of little feet went pricking over the floor, towards the girls' room, but soon returned, and a sweet young voice cried,—
"O, Miss Perdigoff, I can't wake up Dotty!"
"Can't wake her, child!"
"No'm, I can't; nor Prudy can't: we can't wake up Dotty."
Mrs. Pragoff roused at once, with a new cause for alarm.
"Why, what does this mean? Did you try hard to wake her?"