and stood on her tiptoes. The
lady's face was painted so brightly that even a child could not help
noticing it. It was haggard and wrinkled, all but the cheeks, and those
bloomed out like a red, red rose. Flyaway had never seen such a sight
before, and thought if the lady only knew how she looked, she would go
right home and wash her face.

"What a chee-arming little girl!" said the painted woman, crowding in
between Aunt Madge and Flyaway, and patting the child's shoulder with
her ungloved hand, which was fairly ablaze with jewels; "bee-youtiful!"

Flyaway turned quickly around to Aunt Madge, and said, in one of her
very loud whispers, "What's the matter with her? She's got sumpin on her
face."

"Hush," whispered Aunt Madge, pinching the child's hand.

"But there is," spoke up Flyaway, very loud in her earnestness; "O,
there is sumpin on her face--sumpin red."

There was "sumpin" now on all the other faces in the omnibus, and it was
a smile. The lady must have blushed away down under the paint. She
looked at her jewelled fingers, tossed her head proudly, and very soon
left the stage.

"Topknot, how could you be so rude?" said Horace, severely; "little
girls should be seen, and not heard."

"But she speaked to me first," said Flyaway. "I wasn't goin' to say
nuffin, and then she speaked."

A young gentleman and lady opposite seemed very much amused.

"I'm afraid of your bright eyes, little dear. I'll give you some candy
if you won't tell me how I look," said the young lady, showering
sweetmeats into Flyaway's lap.

"Why, I wasn't goin' to tell her how she looked," whispered Fly, very
much surprised, and trying to nestle out of sight behind Horace's
shoulder.

When they left the omnibus, the children had a discussion about the
painted lady, and could not decide whether they were glad or sorry that
Fly had spoken out so plainly.

"Good enough for her," said Dotty.

"But it was such a pity to hurt her feelings!" said Prudy.

"Who hurted 'em?" asked Fly, looking rather sheepish.

"Poh! her feelings can't be worth much," remarked Horace; "a woman
that'll go and rig herself up in that style."

"She must be near-sighted," said Aunt Madge. "She certainly can't have
the faintest idea how thick that paint is. She ought to let somebody
else put it on."

"But, auntie, isn't it wicked to wear paint on your cheeks?"

"No, Dotty, only foolish. That woman was handsome once, but her beauty
is gone. She thinks she