RUNNING AWAY TO CHURCH.
The little Parlins came the next week. One Sunday morning Dotty Dimple
stood before the glass, putting on her hat for church. Katie came and
peeped in with her, opening her small mouth and drawing her lips over
her teeth, as her grandfather did when he shaved.
"See, Flyaway, you haven't any dimples at all!" said Dotty, primping a
little. "Your hair isn't smooth and curly like mine; it sticks up all
over your head, like a little fan."
"O, my shole!" sighed Flyaway, scowling at herself. She did not know
how lovely she was, nor how
"The light of the heaven she came from
Still lingered and gleamed in her hair."
"I wisht 'twouldn't get out," said she.
"What do you mean by _out_?"
"O, unwetted, and un-comb-bid, and un-parted."
"That's because you fly about like such a little witch."
"I doesn't do the leastest nuffin, Dotty Dimpwill! Folks ought to let
me to go to churches."
"I _should_ laugh, Fly Clifford, to see _you_ going to churches! All
the ministers would come down out of the pulpits and ask what little
mischief that was, and make aunt 'Ria carry you home!"
"No, he wouldn't, too! I'd sit stiller'n two, free, five hundred
mouses," pleaded Flyaway, climbing up the back of a chair to show how
quiet she could be.
"O, it's no use to talk about it, darling. Give me one kiss, and I'll
go get my sun-shade."
"Can't, Dotty Dimpwill! My mamma's kiss I'll keep; it's ahind my mouf;
she's gone to 'Dusty.
"Well, 'keep it ahind your mouf,' then; and here's another to put with
it. What _do_ you s'pose makes me love to kiss you so?"
"O, 'cause I so sweet," replied Flyaway, promptly; but she was not
thinking of her own sweetness, just then; she was wondering if she
could manage to run away to church.
"I'se a-goin' there myse'f! Sit still's a--a--" She looked around for
a comparison, and saw a grasshopper on the window-sill: "still's a
_gas-papa_. Man won't say nuffin' to me, see 'f he does!"
Strange such an innocent-looking child could be so sly! She ran down
the path with Horace, kissing her little hand to everybody for good
by, all the while thinking how she could steal off to church without
being seen.
"You may go up stairs and lie down with me on my bed," said grandma,
who was not very well. So Katie climbed upon the bed.
"My dee gamma, I so solly you's sick!" said she, stroking Mrs.
Parlin's face, and picking open her eyelids. But after patting and
"pooring" the dear lady for some time, she thought she had made her
"all well," and then was anxious to get away. Mrs. Parlin wished to
keep her up stairs as long as possible, because Ruth had a toothache.
"Shan't I tell you a story, dear?" said she.
"Yes, um; tell 'bout a long baby--no, a long story 'bout a short
baby."
"Well, once there was a king, and he had a daughter--"
"O, no, gamma, not that! Tell me 'bout baby that _didn't_ be on the
bul-yushes; I don't want to hear 'bout _Mosey_!"
Grandma smiled, and wondered if people, in the good old Bible days,
were in the habit of using pet names, and if Pharaoh's daughter ever
called the Hebrew boy "Mosey." She was about to begin another story,
when Flyaway said, "Guess I'll go out, now," and slid off the bed.
There was an orange on the table. She took it, held it behind her, and
walked quickly to the door. Looking back, she saw that her
grandmother was watching her.
"What you looking at, gamma? 'Cause I'm are goin' to bring the ollinge
right back."
And so she did, but not because it was wrong to keep it. Flyaway had
no conscience, or, if she had any, it was very small, folded up out of
sight, like a leaf-bud on a tree in the spring.
"Ask Ruthie to wash your face and hands, and then come right back to
grandma and hear the story."
"Yes um."
Down stairs she pattered. The moment Ruth had kissed her, and turned
away to make a poultice, she crept into the nursery, and put on
Horace's straw hat. Then she took from a corner an old cane of her
grandfather's, and from the paper-rack a daily newspaper, and started
out in great glee. The "Journal" she hugged to her heart, and her
short dress she held up to her waist, "'Cause I s'pect I mus' keep it
out o' the mud," said she, as anxiously as any lady with a train.
She had no trouble in finding the church, for the road was straight,
but the cane kept tripping her up.
"Naughty fing! Wisht I hadn't took you, to-day, you act so bad!" said
she, picking herself up for the fifth time, and slinging the "naughty
fing" across her shoulder like a gun. When she came to the
meeting-house there was not a soul to be seen. "Guess they's eatin'
dinner in here," decided Flyaway, after looking about for a few
seconds. "Guess I'll go up chamer, see where the folks is."
[Illustration: RUNNING AWAY TO CHURCH.]
Up stairs she clattered, hitting the balusters with her cane. Good Mr.
Lee was preaching from the text, "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it
holy," and people could not imagine who was naughty enough to make
such a noise outside--thump, thump, thump.
"Who's that a-talkin'?" thought Flyaway, startled by Mr. Lee's voice.
"O, ho! that's the _prayer-man_ a-talkin'. He makes me kind o'
'fraid!"
But just at that minute she had reached the top of the stairs, and was
standing in the doorway.
"O, my shole! so _many_ folks!"
She trembled, and was about to run away with her newspaper and cane;
but her eyes, in roving wildly about, fell upon grandpa Parlin and all
the rest of them, in a pew very near the pulpit. Then she thought it
must be all right, and, taking courage, she marched slowly up the
aisle, swinging the cane right and left.
Everybody looked up in surprise as the droll little figure crept by.
Grandpa frowned through his spectacles, and aunt Louise shook her
head; but Horace hid his face in a hymn-book and Dotty Dimple actually
smiled.
"They didn't know _I_ was a-comin'," thought Flyaway, "but I camed!"
And with that she fluttered into the pew.
"Naughty, naughty girl," said aunt Louise, in an awful whisper.
She longed to take up the morsel of naughtiness, called Katie, in her
thumb and finger, shake it, and carry it out. But there was a twinkle
in the little one's eye that might mean mischief; she did not dare
touch her.
"O, what a child!" said aunt Louise, taking off the big hat and
setting Flyaway down on the seat as hard as she could.
Flyaway looked up, through her veil of flossy hair, at her pretty
auntie with the roses round her face.
"Nobody didn't take 'are o' me to my house," said she, in a loud
whisper, "and _that's_ what is it!"
"Hush!" said aunt Louise, giving Flyaway another shake, which
frightened her so that she dropped her head on her brother's shoulder,
and sat perfectly still for half a minute.
Aunt Louise was sadly mortified, and so were Susy and Prudy. They
dared not look up, for they thought everybody was gazing straight at
the Parlin pew, and laughing at their crazy little relative. Horace
and Dotty Dimple did not care in the least; they thought it very
funny.
"They shan't scold at my cunning little Topknot," whispered Horace,
consolingly. "Sit still, darling, and when we get home I'll give you a
cent."
"Yes um, I will," replied poor brow-beaten Flyaway, and held up her
head again with the best of them. Perhaps she had been naughty;
perhaps folks were going to snip her fingers; but "Hollis" was on her
side now and forever. She began to feel quite contented. She had got
inside the church at last, and was very well pleased with it. It was
even queerer than she had expected.
"What was that high-up thing the prayer-man was a-standin' on?"
Flyaway merely asked this of her own wise little brain. She concluded
it must be "a chimley."
"Great red curtains ahind him," added she, still conversing with her
own little brain. "Lots o' great big bubbles on the walls all round.
Big's a tea-kiddle! Lamps, I s'pose. There's that table. Where's the
cups and saucers for the supper? And the tea-pot?
"All the bodies everywhere had their bonnets on; why for? Didn't say a
word, and the prayer-man kep' a-talkin' all the time; why for? Flywer
didn't talk; no indeed. Folks mus'n't. If folks did, then the man
would come down out the chimley and tell the other bodies to carry 'em
home. 'Cause it's the holy Sabber-day,--and _that's_ what is it."
Flyaway's airy brain went dancing round and round. She slid away from
Horace's shoulder, spread her little length upon the seat, closed her
wondering, tired eyes, and sailed off to Noddle's Island. A fly,
buzzing in from out doors, had long been trying to settle on Flyaway's
restless nose. He never did settle: Horace kept guard with a palm-leaf
fan, and "all the other bodies" in the pew sat as still as if they had
been nailed down; so anxious were they to keep the little sleeper
safely harbored at Noddle's Island.
"Such a relief!" thought aunt Louise, venturing to look up once more.
Flyaway did not waken till the last prayer, when Horace held her fast,
lest she should make a sudden rush upon a speckled dog, which came
trotting up the aisle.
On the steps they met Ruth, with wild eyes and face tied up in a
scarf, hunting for Flyaway. Mrs. Parlin, she said, was going up the
hill, so frightened that it would make her "down sick."
When grandma got home, all out of breath, she found Flyaway looking
very downcast. Her heart was heavy under so many scoldings. "O,
Katie," said grandma, "how could you run away?"
"I didn't yun away," replied Flyaway, thrusting her finger into her
mouth; "I _walked_ away!"
"There, if that isn't a cunning baby, where'll you find one?"
whispered brother Horace to Prudy. "Grandmother can't punish her after
such a 'cute speech."
But grandmother could, and did. She took her by the little soft hand,
led her to the china closet, and locked her in.
"Half an hour you must stay there," said she, "and think what a
naughty girl you've been!"
"Yes um," said Flyaway, meekly, and wiped off a tear with the hem of
her frock.
But the moment she was left alone, her quick, observing eyes saw
something which gave her a thrill of delight. It was a jar of quince
jelly, which had been left by accident on the lower shelf.
"'Cause I spect I likes um," said she, serenely, after eating all she
possibly could.
At the end of half an hour grandma came and turned the key.
"Have you been thinking, dear, and are you sorry and ready to come
out?"
"Yes, um," replied the little culprit, with her mouth full, and
feeling very brave as long as the door was shut between her and her
jailer. "Yes, um, I've thought it all up,--defful solly. _But_ you
won't never shut me up no more, gamma Parlin!"
"Katie Clifford!" said grandma, sternly; and then she opened the door,
and faced Flyaway.
"'Cause--'cause--_'cause_," cried the little one, in great alarm; "you
won't shut me up, 'cause I won't never walk away no more, gamma
Parlin!"
Mrs. Parlin tried hard not to smile; but the mixture on Flyaway's
little face of naughtiness, jelly, and fright, was very funny to see.
The child noticed that her grandmother's brows knit as if in
displeasure, and then she remembered the jelly.
"I hasn't been a-touchin' your 'serves, gamma," said she.
Mrs. Parlin really did not know what to do,--Flyaway's conscience was
_so_ little and folded away in so many thicknesses, like a tiny pearl
in a whole box of cotton wool. How could anybody get at it?
"Gamma, I hasn't been a-touchin' your 'serves," repeated the little
thief.
"Ah, don't tell me that," said grandma, sadly; "I see it in your eye!"
"What, gamma, the _'serves_ in my eye?" said Flyaway, putting up her
finger to find out for herself. "'Cause I put 'em in my _mouf_, I
did."
Mrs. Parlin washed the little pilferer's face and hands, took her in
her lap, and tried to feel her way through the cotton wool to the tiny
conscience.
The child looked up and listened to all the good words, and when they
had been spoken over and over, this was what she said:--
"O, gamma, you's got such pitty little wrinkles!"