The same God who calls up the little blades of grass out of the ground could make a finger-nail grow.
"Will He ?" said Flyaway, smiling through tears; "but 'haps He'll forget how it looks.

Musn't I save a piece of my nail, mamma, and lay it up on the shelf, so He can see it, and make the other one like it ?" Mrs.Clifford put the nail in her jewel-box, and I dare say it may be there to this day.
Just as Flyaway, in her nightie, was having a frolic with Grace, there was a sound of wheels.

The stage, which Horace called the "Oriole" because it had a yellow breast, was rolling into the yard.
"It's my mother--my mother," cried the three Parlins together.
Yes, and who was that little girl getting down just after her?
Her hat covered her eyes.

"It isn't Tate Penny!" Why, to be sure it was! There was her dimpled chin; and if that wasn't proof enough, there was the wart on her thumb! To think such a glorious thing as this could happen to Dotty! and she not the best girl in the world either! A visit from her bosom friend! "Aunt 'Ria, do you understand?
Aunt Louise?
Gracie?
This is _Tate Penny_!" "Who asked her to come?
How did she happen to be with mamma, the same day, in the same cars ?" Well, grandma Parlin invited her to come.

"When one lives in an India-rubber house," she said, "a few people more or less make no difference at all.