mpered by
a very practical streak in his character. "That would be some airship,
wouldn't it? To carry us. It would have to be pretty big, and the wire'd
have to be awful strong."

"Oh, it wouldn't be flying, then," sighed Tess.

"But say!" he exclaimed more eagerly, "couldn't we fly your dolls in
it--yours and Dot's?"

"Oh!"

"That would be great!"

The screen door slammed behind them. "No," declared a serious and very
decisive voice. "You sha'n't fly my Alice-doll like a kite, Sammy
Pinkney. So there!"

They turned to the dark, fairy-like little girl who had appeared fresh
from her afternoon toilet at the hands of Mrs. MacCall, the old Scotch
housekeeper who loved the Corner House girls as though they were her
own.

Dot, as usual, clung tightly to the pink-faced, fair-haired doll which
of all her "children" was her favorite. The Alice-doll had been through
so many adventures, and suffered such peril and disaster, that Dot could
scarcely bear that she should be out of her sight for fear some new
calamity would happen to her.

Therefore Dot said quite firmly:

"No, Sammy Pinkney. You're not going to fly my Alice-doll. And I should
think you'd be 'shamed, Tessie Kenway, to let him even talk about it."

"Aw, who's goin' to hurt your old doll?" growled Sammy.

"She's _not_ an old doll, I'd have you know, Sammy Pinkney!" responded
Dot, ready to argue the point with anybody. "She's just been made over.
Didn't Neale O'Neil have her taken to the hospital? And didn't they make
over her face just like society ladies get _theirs_ done by a
der--der-ma-olywog?"

"Mercy, child!" gasped Tess. "'Dermatologist' the word is. Ruth told
us."

"And they bleached her hair," concluded the excited Dot. "So there! Lots
of ladies have their hair bleached. It's quite fashioningble."

"Dot! Dot!" begged the purist, Tess, "do get your words right if you
will use such long ones."

Dot haughtily overlooked any such interruptions. "So," said she, "you
sha'n't make a kite out of my Alice-doll," and she hugged the child to
her bosom with emphasis.

"It isn't a kite," explained Tess, indulgently. "Sammy was talking about
airships. He had one that had a clock in it and it flew on a wire--"

"Oo-ee!" squealed Dot suddenly. "I 'member about that, Sammy Pinkney.
And your mother said you shouldn't _ever_ have such a contraption in the
house again. It busted the parlor lamp."

"Oh, dear! I wish you'd say 'bursted,'" sighed her sister