"It's a ollinge.

_You_ can eat um, 'cause I gived um to you." "Thank you, O, thank you.

Flyaway: how glad I am to see you! You look just the same, and no different." "O, no, I'm is growin' homely," replied the baby, cheerfully, "velly homely; Hollis said so." By the time Dotty's crushed hat was off, and she had made herself ready for tea, trying to hide three of the six grease-spots with her hands, Horace appeared with a little birch switch across his shoulder, strung with fish.

The fish were few and small; but Horace was just as tired, he said, as if he had caught a whale.

He did not say he was glad to see his young cousin; but joy shone all over his face.
"We'll have times--won't we, little Topknot ?" said he, taking Katie up between his fingers, as if she had been a pinch of snuff.
"Is you _found_ of ollinges, Dotty ?" asked Flyaway, with an anxious glance at the yellow fruit in Dotty's hand, still untasted.
After tea the orange lay on the lounge.
"I's goin' to give you a ollinge," said Katie, presenting it again, as if it were a new one.