treet-cry away off in the backyard--"Fine fresh oranges."

"Guess I'll go see what's the matter with that man," thought Miss Fly.
"Guess he's got hurted."

She slid down from the bureau, and stole softly out of the room
backward; but her feet made no more sound on the carpet than the fall of
a rose-leaf, and neither of the girls looked up.

"For course I shan't go ou'doors, 'cause I _solomon_ promised I
wouldn't," said she, pattering down the basement stairs.

The fact was, she had no idea any one would let her go. But it so
happened that thoughtless Rachel was the one who unlocked the basement
door, and it was an easy thing to slip out behind her.

"'Cause I spect she'll send me ri' back."

But when Rachel looked around, and saw the pretty child with her fair
hair blowing wild, she only laughed and went on gossiping with the
orange boy. She saw no harm in letting Fly hop about the pavement on one
foot sucking oranges, till she herself felt chilled by the keen wind;
then she drew the little girl into the house, and shut the door against
the snow-storm, saying,--

"Why, how happened you out here, little Miss Fly?"

"She sawed me the whole time; she ought to sended me in," thought Fly,
dancing up and down to shake off the snow. "Twasn't me was naughty;
'twas the rest the folks. They didn't pay no 'tention where I went to."

But though she pretended to herself that she had done no wrong, she did
not wish to be found out, and crept very softly up stairs, even as far
as the cupola, and looked out of the windows with all her might.

"Cold room up here, athout no fire," thought she, by and by, with a
shiver; and just then she heard the girls calling.

"Here I is," a voice replied, far up the height; and down ran Fly in a
trice.

"You haven't been 'up attic' all this time, Topknot?"

"Well, you ought to paid 'tention where I's going to," returned Fly,
sharply. "Nobody knows what I'll do next--auntie said there didn't!"

Horace laughed. "Come, fix her up, girls; she's my baby."

"I thought you were the 'Man in the Moon,'" said Mother Hubbard, "and he
isn't married."

"I've been a widower some time," sighed Horace, laying his hand on the
left pocket of his blue swallow-tail coat.

His costume was as droll as the girls'; for Uncle Augustus, who had
figured the week before in some private tableaux, had a full Brother
Jonathan suit.

"The man in the Moon, if you please, Mother Hubbard, come down to
inquire the