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Page 24
"Why, papa," said she, "did you ever breathe such a dust? It seems like
snuff."
"It makes us almost as invisible as the 'tarn cap' we read of in German
fairy tales," said Mrs. Clifford, tucking her brown veil under her chin.
She and Mr. Parlin both encouraged Dotty to talk; for they liked to hear
her exclamations of wonder at things which to them seemed common-place
enough.
"What did you call this road, Aunt 'Ria? Didn't you say it was made of
boards? I don't see any boards."
"The planks were put down so long ago, Dotty, that they are overlaid
with earth."
"But what did they put them down for?"
"You musser ask so many kestions, Dotty," said Flyaway, severely; "you
say 'what' too many times."
"The planks were laid down, Dotty, on account of the depth of the mud."
"Mud, Aunt 'Ria?"
"Yes, dear, dusty as it is now, at some seasons of the year the roads
are so muddy that you might lose off your overshoes if it were not for
the large beams which bridge over the crossings."
"That reminds me," said Mr. Parlin, "of the man who was seen sinking in
the mud, and, when some one offered to help him out, he replied,
cheerfully, 'O, I shall get through; I have a horse under me.'"
"Why, was the horse 'way down out of sight, papa?"
"Where was the hossy, Uncle Eddard?"
"It was only a story, children. If the man said there was a horse under
him, it was a figure of speech, which we call hyperbole; he only meant
to state in a funny way that the mud was excessively deep."
"Is it right to tell hyperblees, papa? Because Jennie Vance tells them a
great deal. I didn't know the name of them before."
"No, Alice, it is not right to tell untrue things expecting to be
believed--of course not."
"Well, _she_ isn't believed. Nobody s'poses her mamma made a bushel of
currant wine last summer, unless it's a baby, that doesn't know any
better."
"_I_ knows better. I'se a goorl, and can walk," said little Katie,
bridling.
"I didn't say you _were_ a baby, you precious Flyaway! Who's cunning?"
"_I'm_ is," replied the child, settling back upon the seat with a sigh
of relief. She was very sensitive on the point of age, and, like Dotty,
could not abide the idea of being thought young.
"How far are we going?" asked Mr. Parlin.
"I do not know exactly," replied Mrs. Clifford; "but I will tell you how
far Mr. Skeels, one of our oldest natives, calls it. He says 'he reckons
it is three screeches.'"
"How far is a 'screech,' pray?"
"The distance a human voice can be heard, I presume."
"Let us try it," said Dotty Dimple; and she instantly set up a scream so
loud that the birds in the trees took to their wings in alarm. Katie
chimed in with a succession of little shrieks about as powerful as the
peep of a little chicken.
"I have heard that they once measured distances by 'shoots,'" said Mrs.
Clifford, laughing; "but I hope it will not be necessary to illustrate
_them_ by firing a gun."
They next passed on old and weatherworn graveyard.
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