spy out a likeness under all the flour and furbelows, not
to mention the green spectacles! Prudy quivered like a frightened mouse,
but could not get away, for a trap was sprung upon her; a steel-gloved
hand was holding her fast.

"I am Madam Pragoffyetski, a Polish runaway. You may not have heard of
me, but I know all about Prudy and little Thistledown Flyaway."

"Nicely, thank you, m'm," responded Miss Fly, in a voice as faint as the
peep of a chicken; at the same time darting forward and tearing a piece
out of her slip. "If she runned away I'd be 'shamed to tell of it."

"How awful for her to come here!" thought Mother Hubbard, stealing a
timid glance at the lady's ermine muff. "She looks nice, but I don't
want anything to do with such people."

"Don't be afraid of me, dears," said the lady, laughing; "I call myself
a runaway just in sport. I am a warm admirer of yours, and my dear
friend, your auntie, has promised me a visit from you. I came on purpose
to ask you, and your sister, and your cousins to my house to dinner
to-morrow. Will you come?"

Mother Hubbard gazed doubtfully at the steel-colored glove. What could
she say?

"Thank you ever so much, Mrs.--Mrs. Pradigoff, but Fly is not allowed to
go out."

Flyaway was greatly chagrined.

"Well, I--I _solomon_ promised," said she, casting down her guilty eyes,
as she remembered the orange man; "I solomon promised I would't go ou'
doors, _athout_ somebody _lets_ me."

"There's a tender conscience for you," laughed the Polish lady. "Why
was she not to go out, Miss Prudy?"

"Because she is so quick-motioned, ma'am. Before you know it she's lost.
That's the reason I pinned her to my dress. You see, ma'am, we are
playing 'keep house.'"

"O, if her quickness is all the trouble, I'll take the responsibility
that she shan't get lost. I'll bind her fast with a silken chain.
Really, children, my heart is set on your coming. My house is full of
things that make a noise--a canary, a paroquet, a mocking-bird, a harp,
a piano, and a guitar. And--"

Mrs. Pragoff did not add that she had invited a little party to meet
them. She was afraid of frightening the timid souls.

"Would you like to come, Miss Prudy? Tell me honestly, now."

There was no need to ask Fly. She was dancing for joy--the absurd
little image.

"O, yes'm; I'd be delighted," replied Mother Hubbard, a smile lighting
up her face even to the floury tip of her nose. "And I think Horace and
Dotty would