the big hat and
setting Flyaway down on the seat as hard as she could.

Flyaway looked up, through her veil of flossy hair, at her pretty
auntie with the roses round her face.

"Nobody didn't take 'are o' me to my house," said she, in a loud
whisper, "and _that's_ what is it!"

"Hush!" said aunt Louise, giving Flyaway another shake, which
frightened her so that she dropped her head on her brother's shoulder,
and sat perfectly still for half a minute.

Aunt Louise was sadly mortified, and so were Susy and Prudy. They
dared not look up, for they thought everybody was gazing straight at
the Parlin pew, and laughing at their crazy little relative. Horace
and Dotty Dimple did not care in the least; they thought it very
funny.

"They shan't scold at my cunning little Topknot," whispered Horace,
consolingly. "Sit still, darling, and when we get home I'll give you a
cent."

"Yes um, I will," replied poor brow-beaten Flyaway, and held up her
head again with the best of them. Perhaps she had been naughty;
perhaps folks were going to snip her fingers; but "Hollis" was on her
side now and forever. She began to feel quite contented. She had got
inside the church at last, and was very well pleased with it. It was
even queerer than she had expected.

"What was that high-up thing the prayer-man was a-standin' on?"

Flyaway merely asked this of her own wise little brain. She concluded
it must be "a chimley."

"Great red curtains ahind him," added she, still conversing with her
own little brain. "Lots o' great big bubbles on the walls all round.
Big's a tea-kiddle! Lamps, I s'pose. There's that table. Where's the
cups and saucers for the supper? And the tea-pot?

"All the bodies everywhere had their bonnets on; why for? Didn't say a
word, and the prayer-man kep' a-talkin' all the time; why for? Flywer
didn't talk; no indeed. Folks mus'n't. If folks did, then the man
would come down out the chimley and tell the other bodies to carry 'em
home. 'Cause it's the holy Sabber-day,--and _that's_ what is it."

Flyaway's airy brain went dancing round and round. She slid away from
Horace's shoulder, spread her little length upon the seat, closed her
wondering, tired eyes, and sailed off to Noddle's Island. A fly,
buzzing in from out doors, had long been trying to settle on Flyaway's
restless nose. He never did settle: Horace kept guard with a palm-leaf
fan, and "all the other bodies" in the pew sat as still as if they had
been naile