Don't she sit up like a lady?"

Her name was Flipperty Flop. She was a large jointed doll (not a doll
with large joints,) had seen a great deal of the world, and didn't think
much of it. She came of a high family, and had such blue blood in her
veins, that the ground wasn't good enough for her to walk on. She wore
a "'pellent cloak" and rubber boots, and had a shopping-bag on her arm
full of "choclid" cakes. She was nearly as large as her mother, and all
of two years older. A great deal had happened to her before her mother
was born, and a great deal more since. Sometimes it was dropsy, and she
had to be tapped, when pints of sawdust would run out. Sometimes it was
consumption, and she wasted to such a skeleton that she had to be
revived with cotton. She had lost her head more than once, but it never
affected her brains: she was all the better with a young head now and
then on her old shoulders. Her present ailment appeared to be small-pox;
she was badly pitted with pins and a penknife. "I declare I forgot to
get a ticket for her," said Horace. "What if the conductor shouldn't
let her pass?"

"O, Hollis, but he must?" cried Fly, springing to her feet; "_I_ shan't
pass athout my Flipperty! Tell the 'ductor 'bout my white mouses died,
and I can't go athout sumpin to carry."

"Pshaw! Dotty Dimple don't carry dolls. She don't like 'em: sensible
girls never do."

"Well, _I_ like 'em," said Flyaway, nothing daunted. "You knew it
byfore; 'n if you didn't want Flipperty, you'd ought to not come!"

Horace laughed, as he always did when his little sister tried her power
over him. The conductor was an old acquaintance, and he told him how it
stood with Flipperty, how she was needed at New York, and all that;
whereupon Mr. Van Dusen gave Fly a little green card, and told her to
keep it to show to all the conductors on the road; for it was a free
pass, and would take Flipperty all over the United States.

"Yes, sir, if you please," said Fly, with a blush and a smile, and put
the "free pass" in Miss Flop's cloak pocket.

After this, she never once failed to show it, whenever Mr. Van Dusen, or
any other conductor, came near, but always had to hunt for it, and once
brought up a cookie instead, which fearful mistake mortified her to the
depths of her soul.

Horace was sure all eyes were fixed on his charming little charge, and
was proud of the honor of showing her off; but he paid for it dearly; it
cost him more than his Latin