We for salt, salt, salt," sang Flyaway
(meaning mi, fa, sol). Then she ran to the bureau, perched herself before
it on an ottoman, and talked to herself in the glass.

"Now you be good gell all day, Katie Clifford--not dishbey your mamma,
not hide her freds o' spools, say fank you please. O my shole!"

So Katie was made happy for twenty-four hours.

"After we sleep one more time," said she, "then we shall go."

She wished to sleep that "one more time" with Dotty; but her little head
was so full of the journey that she aroused her bedfellow in the middle
of the night, calling out,--

"We's goin' to 'Naplis,--we for salt, salt, salt,--yidin' in the cars,
Dotty Dimpwil."

It was some time before Dotty could come out of dreamland, and understand
what Katie said.

"Won't you please to hush?" she whispered faintly, and turned away her
face, for the new moon was shining into her eyes.

"Let's we get up," cried Katie, shaking her by the shoulders; "don't you
see the sun's all corned up bwight?"

"O, that's nothing but just the moon, Katie Clifford."

"O ho! is um the moon? Who cutted im in two?" said Flyaway, and dropped
to sleep again.

Dotty was really sorry to leave aunt Maria's pleasant house, and the
charming novelties of Out West.

"Phebe," said she, with a quiver in her voice, when she received the
tomato pincushion, "I like you just as well as if you wasn't black. And,
Katinka, I like you just as well as if you wasn't Dutch. You can cook
better things than Norah, if your hair _isn't_ so nice."

This speech pleased Katinka so much that she patted the letter O's on
each side of her head with great satisfaction, and was very sorry she
had not made some chocolate cakes for Dotty to eat in the cars.

Uncle Henry did not like to part with his bright little niece. She had
been so docile and affectionate during her visit, that he began to
think her very lovely, and to wonder he had ever supposed she had a
wayward temper.

The ride to Indianapolis was a very pleasant one. Katie thought she had
the care of the whole party, and her little face was full of anxiety.

"Don't you tubble yourself, mamma," said She; "_I_'ll look out the
winner, and tell you when we get there."

"Don't let her fall out, Horace," said Mrs. Clifford; "I have a headache,
and you must watch her."

"Has you got a headache, mamma? I's solly. Lean 'gainst ME, mamma."

Horace wished the conductor had been in that car, so he could have seen