Then she took from a corner an old cane of her grandfather's, and from the paper-rack a daily newspaper, and started out in great glee.

The "Journal" she hugged to her heart, and her short dress she held up to her waist, "'Cause I s'pect I mus' keep it out o' the mud," said she, as anxiously as any lady with a train.
She had no trouble in finding the church, for the road was straight, but the cane kept tripping her up.
"Naughty fing! Wisht I hadn't took you, to-day, you act so bad!" said she, picking herself up for the fifth time, and slinging the "naughty fing" across her shoulder like a gun.

When she came to the meeting-house there was not a soul to be seen.

"Guess they's eatin' dinner in here," decided Flyaway, after looking about for a few seconds.

"Guess I'll go up chamer, see where the folks is." [Illustration: RUNNING AWAY TO CHURCH.] Up stairs she clattered, hitting the balusters with her cane.