When the dinner bell rang, everybody asked, twice over, "Why, where is little Fly ?" and Dotty Dimple answered, as innocently as if it were none of her affairs,-- "Why, isn't she in the house?
We s'posed she was.

Jennie Vance and I have just been out in the garden, under your little _crying willow_, making a wreath.

Thought she was in the barn, or somewhere." "But you haven't been in the garden all the while ?" "No'm; once we went up in the Pines,--grandma, you said we might,--but we haven't seen Fly,--why, we haven't seen her for the longest while!" Grace had dropped her knife and fork and was looking pale.
"It was Susy and I that had the care of her, grandma; when you went out to see the sick lady, you charged us, and we forgot all about it." "Pretty works, I should think!" cried Horace, springing out of his chair; "I wouldn't sell that baby for her weight in gold; but I reckon _you_ would, Grace Clifford, and be glad of it, too." Grandma held up a warning finger.

"I declare," said aunt Louise, very much agitated, "I never shall consent to have Maria go out of town again, and leave Katie with us.

If she will try to swim in the watering-trough, she is just as likely to take a walk on the ridgepole of the house." Horace darted out of the room with a ghastly face, but came back looking relieved.