CHAPTER II.
RUNNING AWAY TO CHURCH.
The little Parlins came the next week.

One Sunday morning Dotty Dimple stood before the glass, putting on her hat for church.

Katie came and peeped in with her, opening her small mouth and drawing her lips over her teeth, as her grandfather did when he shaved.
"See, Flyaway, you haven't any dimples at all!" said Dotty, primping a little.

"Your hair isn't smooth and curly like mine; it sticks up all over your head, like a little fan." "O, my shole!" sighed Flyaway, scowling at herself.

She did not know how lovely she was, nor how "The light of the heaven she came from Still lingered and gleamed in her hair." "I wisht 'twouldn't get out," said she.
"What do you mean by _out_ ?" "O, unwetted, and un-comb-bid, and un-parted." "That's because you fly about like such a little witch." "I doesn't do the leastest nuffin, Dotty Dimpwill! Folks ought to let me to go to churches." "I _should_ laugh, Fly Clifford, to see _you_ going to churches! All the ministers would come down out of the pulpits and ask what little mischief that was, and make aunt 'Ria carry you home!" "No, he wouldn't, too! I'd sit stiller'n two, free, five hundred mouses," pleaded Flyaway, climbing up the back of a chair to show how quiet she could be.
"O, it's no use to talk about it, darling.