suckle. For half a mile or more she "gaed" and she "gaed,"
all the while nibbling the candy; but now she was growing very tired,
and did it to comfort herself. Suddenly she remembered it was
Charlie's candy. She held it up to her tearful eyes.

"O dee," said she, "it was big, but it keeps a-gettin' little!"

The hungry bumblebee, who was just behind her, thought this was his
last chance: so he pounced down upon Charlie's candy; and being
cross, and not knowing Flyaway from any other little girl, he stung
her on the thumb. Then how she cried, "'Orny 'ting me! 'Orny 'ting
me!" for she had been treated just so before by a hornet. "O my dee
mamma! My dee mamma!"

But her "dee" mamma could not hear her; she was in the city of
Augusta; and as for the rest of the family, they supposed Flyaway was
playing "catch" with Dotty Dimple in the barn.

CHAPTER IV.

"A RAILROAD SAVAGE."

It now occurred to little Flyaway, with a sudden pang, that she must
have come to the end of the world. "Yes, cerdily!" The world was full
of folks and houses,--this place was nothing but trees. The world had
horses and wagons in it,--this place hadn't. "O dee!"

Where was the hill gone, on the top of which stood that big house they
called heaven,--the house where Charlie lived and played in the
garden? Why, that hill had just walked off, and the house too! She
parted the bushes and peeped through. Nothing to be seen but trees.
Flyaway began to cry from sheer fright, as well as pain. "'Tis a
defful day! I can't _stay_ in this day!"

More trouble had come to her than she knew how to bear; but worst of
all was the cruel stab of the bumblebee. She pitied her aching "fum,"
and kissed it herself to make it feel better; but all in vain; "the
pain kept on and on;" the "fum" grew big as fast as the candy had
grown little.

"Somebody don't take 'are o' me," wailed she; "somebody gone off, lef'
me alone!"

She was dreadfully hungry. "When _was_ it be dinner time?" She would
not have been in the least surprised, but very much pleased, if a bird
had flown down with a plate of roast lamb in his bill, and set it on
the ground before her. Simple little Flyaway! Or if her far-away
mother had sprung out from behind a tree with a bed in her arms, the
tired baby would have jumped into the bed and asked no questions.

But nothing of the sort came to pass. Here she was, without any heaven
or any mother; and the great yellow sun was creeping fast down t