She did not understand a word any one said; it all sounded as indistinct as the roaring of a sea-shell.
By the time she was lifted into her mother's arms in the carriage, she was nodding again.

When they reached home she scarcely spoke, but, dropping upon the sofa, went on with her dreams.

It was odd for Flyaway to take a nap in the daytime, and such a long one as this! "It must be a very warm day," said Mrs.Parlin, "for Prudy and Dotty have been asleep too." "Where did they go after they sold the rags ?" asked Mrs.Clifford; "they all look pale." "To a photograph saloon.

Here are the tin-types they brought home to me," replied grandma, producing them from her pocket, with a gratified smile.
"Very good, mother--don't you think so?
I would be glad to have as truthful a likeness of our little Katie; but she must be taken asleep.
I wonder, by the way, if there wasn't something in the air of the saloon which made the children all so languid ?" "Why, yes, Maria; very likely it was the ether.

Now you speak of it, I am confident it must have been the ether." "I knew just such an instance before," said Mrs.Clifford; "and that is why I happened to think of it now." About four o'clock Flyaway came to her senses.
"Where's the wheelbarrel ?" said she, rubbing her eyes.
"O, Horace came and took it," said Dotty.