She crossed the room, and knelt by Mrs.Clifford's chair, looking up at her with an expression of anguish.
"That man, he wasn't in the lions' den, that prayed so long and so loud, mamma." "Well, dear." "_He_ telled a wrong story to me, mamma." "My darling baby," said Mrs.Clifford, catching Flyaway in her arms, "do you think your own dear mother is telling you a wrong story this minute ?" "'Cause, 'cause, mamma, I didn't go to aunt Marfie's!" "Yes, you did, my precious daughter; but you were asleep and dreaming.
We brought you home in the carriage, and you didn't know it.

Can't you believe it because I say so ?" Flyaway made no reply except to curl her head under Mrs.Clifford's arm, like a frightened chicken under its mother's wing.

Mrs.Clifford looked troubled.

She was afraid the little one could not be made to understand it.

Horace came to her aid.
"Hold up your head, little Topknot, and hear brother talk.