, dear, how large is my spirit?"

Katie put her hand on the left side of the belt of her apron.

"Don't you call that small, right under my hand a-beatin'?" said she.
"'Bout's big as a bird, Miss Polly. Little round ball for a head,
little mites o' eyes; but you won't care--you can see _just_ as well."

"It does beat all where children get such queer ideas--doesn't it,
Ruth?" said Miss Whiting.

"Didn't you know it?" cried Katie, finding she had startled Miss
Polly. "Didn't you know you's goin' to be little, and fly in the air
just so?" throwing up her arms. "I want to go dreffully, for there's a
gold harp o' music up there, and I'll play on it: it'll be mine."

"You don't feel in a hurry to die, I hope," said Miss Polly,
anxiously.

Katie's eager face clouded. "No," said she, sorrowfully; "I want to,
but I hate to go up to God and leave my pink dress. I can't go into it
then, I'll be so little."

"You'll be just big enough to go into the pocket," laughed Dotty.

"Hush!" said Miss Polly, gravely; "you shouldn't joke upon such
serious subjects. Good by, children. Your house is full of company,
and I didn't come to stay. Here's a bag of thoroughwort I've been
picking for your grandmother; you may give it to her with my love, and
tell her my side is worse. I shall be in to-morrow."

So saying, Miss Polly went away, seeming to be wafted out of the room
on a sigh.

The high-chair was brought down from the attic for Flyaway, who sat
in it that evening at the tea-table, and smiled round upon her friends
in the most benevolent manner.

"I's growing so big now, mamma," said she, coaxingly, "don't you spect
I must have some tea?"

Grandmother pleaded for the youngest, too. "Let me give her some just
this once, Maria."

"Well, _white_ tea, then," returned Mrs. Clifford, smiling; "and will
Flyaway remember not to ask for it again? Mamma thinks little girls
should drink milk."

"Yes'm, I won't never. She gives it to me _this_ night, 'cause I's her
little _grand-girl_. Mayn't Hollis have it too, 'cause he's her little
grand-_boy_?"

"Cunning as ever, you see," whispered the admiring Horace to cousin
Susy, who replied, rather indifferently,--

"No cunninger than our Prudy used to be."

Flyaway made quick work of drinking her white tea, and when she came
to the last few drops she swung her cup round and round, saying,--

"Didn't you know, Hollis, that's the way gampa does, when _he_ gets
most froo, to make it sw