They went up stairs, into a beautiful room, which aunt Madge had arranged for them with two beds, to suit a whim of Dotty’s.

“Now isn’t this just splendid?” said Miss Dimple; “the carpet so soft your boots go in like feathers; and then such pictures!  Look, Fly! here are two little girls out in a snow-storm, with an umbrella over ’em.  Aren’t you glad it isn’t you?  And here are some squirrels, just as natural as if they were eating grandpa’s oilnuts.  And see that pretty lady with the kid, or the dog.  Any way she is kissing him; and it was all she had left out of the whole family, and she wanted to kiss somebody.”

“Yes,” said aunt Madge.

  “’Her sole companion in a dearth
  Of love upon a hopeless earth.’

“If that makes you look so sober, children, I’m going to take it down.  Here, on this bracket, is the head of our blessed Saviour.”

“O, I’m glad,” said Fly.  “He’ll be right there, a-looking on, when we say our prayers.”

“Hear that creature talk!” whispered Dotty.

“And these things a-shinin’ down over the bed:  who’s these?” said Flyaway, dancing about the room, with “opened-out” eyes.

“Don’t you know?  That’s Christ blessing little children,” said Dotty, gently.  “I always know Him by the rainbow round His head.”

“Aureole,” corrected Aunt Madge.

“But wasn’t it just like a rainbow—­red, blue and green?”

“O, no; our Saviour did not really have any such crown of light, Dotty.  He looked just like other men, only purer and holier.  Artists have tried in vain to make his expression heavenly enough; so they paint him with an aureole.”

Prudy said nothing; but as she looked at the picture, a happy feeling came over her.  She remembered how Christ “called little children like lambs to his fold,” and it seemed as if He was very near to-night, and the room was full of peace.  Aunt Madge had done well to place such paintings before her young guests; good pictures bring good thoughts.

“All, everywhere, it’s so spl-endid!” said Fly; “what’s that thing with a glass house over it!”

“A clock.”

“What a funny clock!  It looks like a little dog wagging its tail.”

“That’s the penderlum,” explained Dotty; “it beats the time.  Every clock has a penderlum.  Generally hangs down before though, and this hangs behind.  I declare, Prudy, it does look like a dog wagging its tail.”

“Hark! it strikes eight,” said Aunt Madge.  “Time little girls were in bed, getting rested for a happy day to-morrow.”

“I don’t spect that thing knows what time it is,” said Fly, gazing at the clock doubtfully, “and my eyes are all opened out; but if you want me to, auntie, I will!”

So Flyaway slipped off her clothes in a twinkling.

“We’re going to lie, all three, in this big bed, Fly, just for one night,” said Dotty; “and after that we must take turns which shall sleep with you.  There, child, you’re all undressed, and I haven’t got my boots off yet.  You’re quicker’n a chain o’ lightning, and always was.”