I like to be called amiable, but nobody'll do it again; and Horace sees now I'm not the girl he thought I was." All Prudy's hail-stones of wrath had melted into tear-drops, and she was sobbing them into her handkerchief.

She did not clearly know whether she was crying because she had done wrong, or because Horace would see she "was not the girl he had thought she was." "Bless your dear little soul," said Dr.Moonshine, kneeling before her, while his blue swallow-tails swept the floor, "you've told the truth.
Everybody knows Dot's a spitfire, and you're an angel; and she does impose upon you most abominably." Dotty stood staring, with a plate in her hand, too much astonished to defend herself.
"And I'm ashamed of firing so many jokes at you, Prue; I am so.

I'm a great joker (he meant a great _wit_!), but this is the first time I ever mistrusted you cared--you always take things so like a lamb,--or you'd better believe I wouldn't have done it.

For there isn't a girl in the world I like so well as I do you, nor begin to." "O, Hollis," moaned the little one, stirred by sudden jealousy.
"Hullelo! I forgot you, Topknot .-- You're my heart's jewel; that's generally understood.

When I say I like Prue, I mean next after you." The jealous Fly was satisfied, and folded her little wings against Horace's breast.