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Title: The Twin Cousins


Author: Sophie May



Release Date: November 18, 2007  [eBook #23540]

Language: English

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[Illustration: DISAGREEABLE PATTY FOLLOWS THE TWINS. Page 180.]

[Illustration: The Twin Cousins]

Flaxie Frizzle Stories

THE TWIN COUSINS

by

SOPHIE MAY

Author of Little Prudy Stories, Dotty Dimple Stories,
Little Prudy's Flyaway Stories Etc.

Illustrated







Boston 1893
Lee and Shepard Publishers
10 Milk Street Next "The Old South Meeting House"

Copyright,
1880.
by Lee and Shepard.




CONTENTS.

   Chapter                                   Page

         I. Flaxie Frizzle's Party              9
        II. Staying out to Tea                 25
       III. The Lonesome Visit                 40
        IV. Lucy's Mittens                     59
         V. That Homely Miss Pike              75
        VI. The House that Jack built          91
       VII. Hilltop again                     109
      VIII. A Crazy Christmas                 124
        IX. Milly visiting                    139
         X. Blackdrop                         155
        XI. Flaxie a Comfort                  167
       XII. Brave Preston Gray                178






THE TWIN COUSINS.

CHAPTER I.

FLAXIE FRIZZLE'S PARTY.


"O Auntie Prim, _may_ I have a party? I'll give you a _thou_-sand kisses
if you'll lemme have a party!"

Auntie Prim looked as if one kiss would be more than she could bear. She
was standing by the pantry window that opened upon the garden, rolling
out pie-crust, and didn't like to be disturbed. She was a very good
woman, but she _never_ liked to be disturbed.

"Party?" said she, gazing sternly at Flaxie Frizzle and her little
cousin Milly. "Saturday morning, and your mother gone, too! I should
think this was a queer time for a party!"

Flaxie rolled her apron over at the corners and chewed it.

"Well, 'cause it's my birthday, and my mamma said--"

"Yes, and her grammy said--" Little Milly got as far as this and then
stopped. Flaxie was her darling "twin cousin," and she wanted to help
her; but that tall lady with the rolling-pin was just dreadful.

"Oh, now I remember," said Mrs. Prim, paring off the dough around the
edge of a pie. "Your mother did say, if you were a good girl all the
week, you might have a few children here to tea. But _have_ you been a
good girl, Mary Gray?" added she, with a look through her spectacles
that pierced her little niece to the soul.

"Yes um," replied Flaxie, gazing down at her boots. "Only once, you
know, you had to set me on the shelf behind the stove."

"Very true. So you see you _were_ naughty. What did you do?"

"Meddled," said Flaxie in a low voice, with another nibble at her apron.

Mrs. Prim smiled a very small smile, but it was behind her lips, where
the children could not see it.

"Well, Mary, perhaps you have been as good as could reasonably be
expected under the circumstances."

Poor little Milly couldn't help feeling as if _she_ were the
"circumstances," or why did those spectacles shine straight upon her?

"And I suppose you must have the party."

Flaxie gave a scream of delight, and caught Mrs. Prim round the waist.

"O you darling, darling auntie!"

"There, there; don't smother me, or I can't cook your supper. What do
you want?"

"Oh, _may_ I have what I want? _Pinnuts_ and peaches, and candy and
preserves, and jelly and choclids, and oranges and _everything_?"

"No, you absurd child, not everything; but whatever is most suitable and
proper,--if you will only run away out of my sight, you and Milly. But
go first and tell your grandmother to send Dora to me."

"Grammy's quilting a quilt, and Dodo's quilting a quilt; but I'll tell
'em to come."

"No, no; I only want Dora."

"That child can't be trusted to do the smallest errand correctly,"
thought Auntie Prim, taking down the cook-book, with a sigh, and looking
at the recipes for cake. Her husband was in Canada, and she had kindly
offered to spend a month or so at Dr. Gray's while his wife went away
for her health. This would have been very pleasant, only Julia went with
her mother, and little Flaxie was always troublesome without Julia.

Mrs. Prim had said that morning to Dora that she would go into the
pantry and make three apple-pies, for she knew how to make them better
than Dora; and then she must finish writing her lecture on Ancient
History. And now Flaxie Frizzle had come and asked for a party! Mrs.
Prim was called a "superior woman," and knew more than almost anybody
else in town except the minister; but she did think children very
trying, and their parties "perfectly absurd." Besides, Flaxie wasn't her
own niece.

"O auntie, auntie!" cried the little tease, coming back again, with
Milly at her heels, "we've got to go and invite 'em!"

"Certainly; and why don't you go, then?"

"Don' know how; please tell us how," said Flaxie, clutching Mrs. Prim by
the skirt, and wishing there was a hinge in that lady somewhere, so she
could bend.

"Don't know how? Just go to the houses, child, and ask the little girls'
mothers."

"O auntie, we don't want the little girls' mothers!"

"No, no; ask the mothers to let their little daughters come here to tea;
that's what I mean."

Then Auntie Prim made out a list of ten little girls, for the table
would seat twelve, and she wanted the party large enough to please
Flaxie. She thought she would make some of her own delicious tarts and a
nice sponge roll, and Dora might mix White Mountain cake and boil a
tongue. Mrs. Prim meant to be very kind, though she was sure, if she had
had any little girls of her own, they would never have had any parties!

"Now, be sure to say I want the children to come early--at half-past
two."

"Yes um!" And the little messengers danced out of the house.

"Flaxie," said Mrs. Prim, rapping on the pantry window with the
egg-beater, "are you sure you heard what I said?"

"Yes um."

"What time did I set?"

"Ha' pas' two."

"Very well.--And I shall be thankful when it is over," sighed the poor
lady, taking down the spice-box.

But wasn't it gay times for the twin cousins, who had all the fun and
none of the worry! I wish I were a little girl, just going to have a
party, don't you? They didn't stop to look at the beautiful trees, with
their bright October leaves, or at the sky, with its soft white clouds;
they hopped along, their arms around each other's waist, keeping time to
the happy thoughts in their hearts.

"Oh, Milly, aren't you glad you came to my house visiting?"

Milly was very glad to-day; she had not been glad yesterday, when they
had the trouble about their dolls.

The first house was General Townsend's; and when Mrs. Townsend came to
the door, Milly hid behind a lilac-bush; but Flaxie, who was never
afraid of anybody, looked up with her laughing blue eyes, and said,
without stopping for 'How d'ye do?'--

"Oh, Mrs. Townsend, I'm goin' to have a party six years old, and mayn't
Fanny come? Auntie Prim says for the children to come early,--at ha'
pas' two,--and she'll be _thankful_ when it's over."

Mrs. Townsend could not possibly help smiling at this remarkable speech,
but she replied that Fanny might go.

"Now, Flaxie Frizzle," said Mabel, as the door closed, "you oughtn't to
say your auntie'll be 'thankful'; it isn't polite."

"Yes it is. I guess Auntie Prim knows; she knows everything. But 'fore
I'd run and hide!" retorted Flaxie.

There wasn't any lilac-bush at the next house, and Milly had to stand on
the door-stone and hide under her hat.

It was surprising how fast Flaxie said it over: "I'm goin' to have a
party six years old," &c., without skipping a word; and though Milly had
her doubts about the politeness of Mrs. Prim's being so "thankful," she
did think Flaxie Frizzle was a wonderful girl; and indeed Flaxie thought
so too.

"What, back so soon?" said Auntie Prim, who had scarcely missed the
children before they appeared again at the pantry-door, rosy with
running.

"Yes um; I've invited 'em all up."

Flaxie said "I" with quite an air.

"Possible? I wonder if you did it correctly. What did you say?"

"I said," replied Miss Frizzle, proud to have made no mistakes this
time, "I said, 'I'm goin' to have a party six years old, and Auntie Prim
says for the children to come early,--at ha' pas' two,--and she'll be
_thankful_ when it's over.'"

"You didn't!" cried auntie, the color flying into her pale face, and her
spectacles shining like diamonds.

"Well, I never!" said Dora, and sat right down by the oven-door to
laugh. "But they do say, children and fools always speak the truth!"

Mrs. Prim resolved to keep calm, but this was very trying.

"Mary Gray," said she, pressing her hands together quite sticky with
dough, "I didn't mean you to repeat the last part of that speech; I
didn't even know you had heard it. It does seem to me you are old enough
to have a _little_ sense of propriety. What can those ladies think of
me? What can they think of _you_? I shouldn't blame them if they didn't
let their children come, after such an invitation as that!"

Flaxie hung her head. What had _she_ done so very wrong? She could never
bear to be blamed; and I must relate that she was rude enough to slip
out of the house while her aunt was still speaking, followed by Milly.

"She thinks children are goosies, and hates to hear 'em talk," said she,
the tears dripping over her apron.

"I'm drefful 'shamed; aren't you?" said little Milly.

"Yes, I 'spect we've done something _orful_," returned Flaxie.

You will observe that she said "we" this time, quite willing Milly
should have a full share of the blame.

"I can't stan' it, Milly Allen, folks laughing at us so! Did you see
Dodo laughing and laughing and laughing?"

"Yes, I did. She shook all over, and said children were fools."

"My mamma wouldn't 'low her to say that," sobbed Flaxie. "And nobody
comin' to our party, either. Auntie Prim thinks they won't any of 'em
come."

"Oh, yes, they will! their mammas said they might."

"Hope they won't!" said Flaxie, stamping her foot so hard that a
"hop-toad" thought there was an earthquake, and hurried out of the way.
"Hope they won't, any of 'em! I'm not agoin' to go to it myself,--so
there!"

Milly peeped up in surprise.

"I hate it, Milly Allen; let's run away!"

"Why, Flaxie Frizzle!" was all Mabel could say, for the idea of a little
girl's running away from her own party was truly amazing.

"You think I don't dare," said Flaxie; "but I do dare! I'm agoin' right
off in the woods, and stay there! And I _thought_ you's agoin' with me.
You're my twin cousin, and it's your party as much as 'tis mine."

Milly knew this was very wrong, and ought to have said so to Flaxie. If
they had already done one foolish thing, it would make it no better to
do another foolish thing, as _you_ can see in a moment. But Milly wanted
to please Flaxie, so she said stoutly:

"Oh, yes, I'm going!"

Silly children! Flaxie pretended she was running away from her party,
but she didn't mean to _stay_ away. Oh, no! She wouldn't have missed the
party for anything. Even now she was beginning to wonder what Dora was
baking.

The woods were deep and high and dark. Before they had gone quarter of a
mile Flaxie wanted to turn back, but waited for Milly to speak first.

"Oh dear!" cried Milly, trembling, for she had never been in such a
place before. "You s'pose it's night, Flaxie? Has the sun set?"

"No, it hasn't. But we ought to brought a imbreller; it's goin' to
rain," replied Flaxie, holding out her hand to catch a drop. "I didn't
spect you'd be so 'fraid, Milly Allen; but if you _are_ afraid, we'll go
right home this minute."

They turned, but the wrong way, and instead of going home, only struck
deeper into the woods. They didn't see the sky at all, and all the light
seemed to come from the gay leaves and the gold of Flaxie's hair; for I
am sorry to say she had lost her hat.

"Ha' pas' two; ha' pas' two," said she dreamily. "Let's go home to the
party."

"Thought you hated the old party," said Milly, falling over a dead tree,
and crying.

"Well, I was only in fun. Don't you know when I'm in fun, you goosie?"

You see they were both getting cross as well as hungry, for dinner-time
was past long ago. In another hour they were half-starved.

"I spect we're lost," said Flaxie, calmly. "Going to rain, too; sun
setting. Pretty near midnight--"

Upon this Milly began to scream.

"Well, then, what made you hide behind the lilac-bush, and not invite
the folks, Milly Allen?" exclaimed Flaxie, feeling obliged to scold
_somebody_; and then she too began to scream, though nobody heard, for
they were three or four miles from the village.

They wound in and out, in and out, among the trees; but it was like a
little bird putting his head through the bars of his cage. It did no
good at all; they couldn't get out.

Thoroughly tired at last and discouraged, the poor babes in the wood lay
down and fell asleep in each other's arms. I know it was a pretty
sight,--the black head and the golden head so close together, and the
beautiful bright trees bending over to say, "Good night."




CHAPTER II.

STAYING OUT TO TEA.


But before the robins had had time to cover them with leaves, or even to
think of it, there was a shout from Preston Gray.

"Hurrah, boys, I've found 'em!"

He and half a dozen other lads had been out all the afternoon in search
of the little wanderers, and here it was five o'clock. They carried them
home on their backs, taking turns, and Flaxie looked up only once to ask
sleepily:

"Is it ha' pas' two?"

"Won't she catch it, though?" said Bert Abbott, who was in great awe of
Mrs. Prim.

But Mrs. Prim was a just woman, and she thought poor little Flaxie's
punishment had been hard enough. Her party was over long ago; the guests
hadn't stayed to supper, and had gone home saying they "didn't think
Flaxie was very polite," and they "wouldn't go to her parties any more."
And here she was, tired and wretched, and scratched all over by
blackberry bushes. No, Auntie Prim didn't even scold. She merely looked
through her spectacles at grandma, and said, "Children are so absurd!"

And grandma replied sorrowfully:

"Well, they have to suffer for their own naughtiness, and that does
grieve me!"

"They ought to suffer," said Mrs. Prim; "it is the only way they can
learn not to behave so again."

Dear little Milly heard this, and remembered it, and repeated it to her
mother the next week when she went home to Hilltop. She thought _she_
had suffered so much that she should never be "absurd" again, even to
please her beloved Flaxie Frizzle.

After she had gone away, Flaxie wandered drearily about the house,
saying, "Oh dear! what shall I do without my twin cousin?"

You would have thought she had enough left to make her happy. Dr. Gray's
house stood on a hill facing the river, with a green yard in front, and
a stable and two gardens behind it. It was all beautiful, and Flaxie
enjoyed the stable as well as the fruit and flower gardens, for she was
very fond of the horses, Whiz and Hiawatha, and the cows and the hens.
You needn't tell anybody, but I do pity children who never hunted for
hens' nests: it is such capital fun! And then there was the handsome
dog, Tantra-Bogus, one of Flaxie's best friends.

In the house she had her "splendid Dr. Papa;" her dear brother Preston,
who could whittle all sorts of things with a penknife; her darling
Grandma Gray, an old lady with white hair, white cap, and white ribbons;
and last, but not least, she had the "beautifullest baby" Philip, who
could stand on his head "just as cunning," and "hug grizzly"--that is,
like a grizzly bear. Flaxie loved him with her whole heart, but there
were moments when she felt half ashamed of him, for he was eighteen
months old, and hadn't a sign of a tooth; wasn't it awful?

"Perhaps he'll cut one before your mother and Julia come home; I keep
hoping so," said grandma, feeling in baby's mouth with her finger, which
baby bit hard, like an old rogue as he was.

"Will they give him some gold teeth, if his don't ever cut?" asked
Flaxie anxiously. "Preston says they will."

"No," replied Mrs. Prim, who sat by the window, with her little ebony
work-box on a stand beside her. "Your brother Preston says very absurd
things merely in sport; but you must not be so foolish as to believe
them."

Down dropped Flaxie's head in grandma's lap, her hair falling over
grandma's black silk apron in a golden shower.

Mrs. Prim looked surprised. She did not know that Flaxie really _had_
believed in those gold teeth, and had been comforted by thinking how
Phil would outshine everybody by-and-by! And now the poor little girl
was crying because it was all a mistake, and because Mrs. Prim had said
she was "foolish."

"Run and let in the cat," said grandma; "don't you hear her mewing?"

When Kitty Gray was let in, she came bringing a mouse, and Flaxie
laughed to see her run right up to grandma and rub against her dress.

"Good pussy, pretty pussy," said grandma, stroking the cat, who almost
purred her heart out for joy. Not a mouse did she ever catch but she
brought it to grandma or mamma to show it; but she never brought one to
Mrs. Prim. I wonder why not.

"Now let her out, Mary," said grandma to Flaxie. "And go ask Dora if it
isn't almost time to make the gravy for dinner."

When Flaxie skipped away, grandma said to Mrs. Prim, "The poor child is
lonesome, with nothing to do."

"She ought to do something," replied Mrs. Prim, making a knot in her
silk. "If she were my little girl, I should send her to school, to
occupy her mind."

"Should you?" said Grandma Gray, hesitating, and patting her white
curls. "Her mother said there were some naughty children about here,
and she might be led into mischief at school, while Julia is away."

"I'm sure she is led into mischief at home," said Mrs. Prim.

"Very true. Perhaps she would be quite as safe at school. I will talk to
her father about it," said Grandma Gray.

And of course Dr. Papa said, "Just as you please;" and Flaxie was sent
to school with her satchel and books.

She came home the first day very dirty, after the dinner was cold, and
Auntie Prim wondered if such a child ought to have any pudding.

"Oh, auntie," said Flaxie, shaking her flying hair, "I saw a little girl
down under the hill, and says I, 'What's your name?' and says she,
'Patty C. Proudfit.' And I thought you'd want me to go down and play
with her, and I did."

This was the first Mrs. Prim had ever heard of "Patty C. Proudfit," and
grandma knew nothing about her either; but Preston said the Proudfit
family had just moved into town, "a whole army of 'em, and lived in that
black house under the hill."

Next day, as Mrs. Prim was looking out of the window, she saw Flaxie and
Miss Patty playing dolls under the trees. Patty was two years older than
Flaxie, but her red hair had not been combed lately, her dress was torn,
and her shoes were out at the toes.

"She is not a nice child; I am sorry to see this," sighed Mrs. Prim,
turning away from the window. "But as Mrs. Gray is coming home next
week, I shall do nothing about it."

Flaxie's mind was "occupied" now, and she gave very little trouble in
the house. Patty was "a dear, sweet, good little girl," she said, "and
she loved her next as much as her twin cousin."

But you can't be quite happy in this world; and Patty's baby brother,
only nine months old, had cut four whole teeth, and I won't say this
wasn't a trial to Flaxie.

"Poh, but they're eeny-teeny things," said she to grandma. "Phil's will
be lots and lots bigger--when he gets 'em."

Patty came up to the fence one day, where Flaxie stood smelling a
geranium leaf.

"How do you do?" said she.

"I do as I please, 'cause Auntie Prim is gone," replied little Flaxie,
with a saucy smile. She was really very bold and naughty sometimes, as
you have already found out, I suppose.

"Gone home?"

"No, she's coming back to-night, I s'pect, and bring grammy a cap. No, I
don't s'pect she'll _ever_ go home," said Flaxie, shaking her little
head sadly.

"Well, she's gone now, ain't she, this whole afternoon? And why can't
you come up to my house and see me?"

Flaxie knew why. It was because she ought to help amuse the baby. Dora
had been making peach preserves all day, and it was too hard for Grandma
Gray to take care of Phil alone. But Flaxie asked all the same, "May I
go?" and grandma never could say "no" when little folks teased, so she
answered, "Yes, and stay till half-past four; no longer."

Nothing was said about supper; but the children thought there would be
time enough for that, and breakfast too, almost--it seemed so very long
till half-past four.

"Very well," said Patty's mother, when they went into the smoky kitchen,
where she was holding the baby that had four teeth. "Very well, you may
both run out to play, and when it is time to call you in, I'll ring the
bell."

There wasn't much to play with, except sand right in the middle of the
road; but Flaxie had never been allowed as much dirt as she wanted, and
this seemed very pleasant for a change. It would have been pleasanter
still if her conscience had felt easy. She was only six years old, but
she knew perfectly well when her actions were right and when they were
wrong.

"I never saw such a splendid visit," said she, when Mr. Proudfit kindly
allowed her and Patty to feed the pigs. "But _don't_ they have the
awfullest-looking smell?" added she, gazing thoughtfully into the pen,
which was dirty, like everything else about the place. Her own nice
frock was already soiled, but she tried not to see it, and not to think
how Auntie Prim would stare at it through her spectacles.

"Why, what's that?" said she.

It was, oh dear! it was the bell; and there was Mrs. Proudfit at the
back door ringing it. Grown people are always thinking what time it is;
they never forget.

"I'm sorry you can't stay to tea, Miss Flaxie," said Mrs. Proudfit,
politely.

"Oh, I guess I can; I'll go ask grammy," replied the little girl,
dashing off up the hill, followed by Patty.

"Oh, grammy, they want me to stay _orf'ly_," she cried, out of breath,
before they got to the house.

"Well, stay another hour, then," said the dear grandma, though baby was
very cross and her arms ached, and Flaxie could have been _such_ a help.

So Flaxie went back and stayed another hour, and _then_ it wasn't
tea-time. She could see some blue and white dishes spread on a round
table covered with an oil-cloth, and she could smell gingerbread baking
in the oven, which made her very hungry; and just as Mrs. Proudfit was
opening a can of preserves, with at least six children clinging to her
skirts, who should come but Preston, to say it was half-past five and
Flaxie was wanted at home.

"So you can't stay to tea, after all," said Mrs. Proudfit, putting a
small covered dish on the table. What in the world could be in it?

Flaxie dropped her head and blushed. "Oh, yes'm, I can stay. I've sent
Preston home, and locked the door!"

Mrs. Proudfit smiled into the oven as she looked at her gingerbread, and
thought--of course she did--that Flaxie Frizzle was a very queer child.

It did seem as if that gingerbread never would bake! A cloud came up,
the wind blew, the baby cried so Patty couldn't play, the children
quarrelled, and the kitten ran round in a fit.

Nothing seemed half as nice as it had seemed an hour ago; and when
supper was ready, that gingerbread was burnt, and, as true as you live,
the preserves were sour! There was nothing in the little covered dish
but cheese, which Flaxie "despised;" and she wished she hadn't stayed to
tea, for it was a very poor tea indeed.

It began to rain just as hard as it could pour, and Dr. Papa came for
her in the carriage, without a single smile on his face.

When she got home there was mamma, looking grieved and surprised,--the
dear mamma she hadn't seen for three weeks. And there was "Ninny," her
sweet sister Julia, who had come and found out about her actions, and
brought her a new doll.

"Baby has cut a tooth, too," said Auntie Prim; "but he's asleep now, and
you can't see it to-night."

This was the last drop.

"I feel as if my heart was breaking," sobbed Flaxie, tottering up-stairs
behind her mother. "I don't care if Baby Proudfit _has_ got fo--ur
teeth; they're _very_ small!"

"I'm afraid you didn't have a good time, dear?"

"No'm, for Baby Proudfit's _so_ squirmy and wigglesome! But they wanted
me to stay _orf'ly_!"

"And oh, mamma," burst forth Flaxie, at last, "if you'll forgive me,
I'll never stay _anywhere_ to tea any more, as long as I live!"

"We'll talk about it to-morrow," said Mrs. Gray.

And then she put poor little Flaxie to bed.




CHAPTER III.

THE LONESOME VISIT.


Flaxie came down to breakfast next morning feeling rather humble, but
nobody noticed her, for they were all talking about the cat. The
cellar-door had been left unfastened, and Kitty Gray had come up about
midnight bringing a nice fat mouse. She mewed a long time, hoping her
mistress would get out of bed and stroke her, and say, "Good pussy,
pretty pussy!" But as Mrs. Gray would not rise, what do you think Kitty
Gray did, for this is a true story?

She just walked into the dining-room where the table was always set
overnight, jumped up to Mrs. Gray's place by the waiter, and dropped
the mouse beside her plate!

"There," thought pussy, "she'll see it now first thing in the morning,
before she turns the coffee; and if she doesn't say 'Good pussy, pretty
pussy,' why--I'll eat it!"

Of course when Mrs. Gray saw such a droll morsel lying on her napkin she
laughed, sent for Kitty Gray, stroked her, and called her "Good pussy,
pretty pussy; and the brightest pussy too that I ever saw!"

Even Mrs. Prim was laughing, and Flaxie began to hope her own behavior
of yesterday was forgotten. But no, her mother called her into the
nursery after breakfast, and said, as she took her in her lap:

"I am sorry to hear that my little girl has done so many wrong things
since I have been gone."

Flaxie dropped her head for shame, but raised it again indignantly.

"How'd you know that, mamma? Auntie Prim must have gone and told."

"Yes, darling, I asked her to tell. Isn't it right for mamma to know all
her child has been doing?"

"Yes'm," replied Flaxie, watching a fly walk on the ceiling.

"And I thought perhaps you would like to talk with me about it, dear."

"One, two, three, four, five," said Flaxie to herself, counting the
rosebuds in the carpet. Strange her mamma should suppose she wanted to
talk about it! Why, there wasn't a subject in the world so disagreeable
as her own naughtiness!

Mrs. Gray waited patiently till the rosebuds were counted, and then
Flaxie spoke.

"O mamma, you think I was bad yesterday, but do you _s'pose_ I'd have
gone off if I'd known my little brother's tooth was a-cutting?"

Mrs. Gray smiled down at the innocent, upturned face.

"Well, darling, whether he cut a tooth or not, had you any excuse for
staying to tea?"

"No'm. They didn't have a bit good supper at Patty's house, and I
oughtn't to have stayed."

"Mary," said Mrs. Gray,--she thought her little daughter was old enough
now to be called by her true name, so she never used the baby name of
Flaxie Frizzle,--"Mary, I do not wish you to play any more with this
little girl till I have seen her."

"No'm."

"Have you anything else to tell me?"

"I don' know. Well, yes. Well, I--I--I am so sorry I ran away from my
party, mamma. Ever so long ago. I s'pect Auntie Prim told of that too?"
said Flaxie, twisting herself into odd shapes, for the thought of that
unfortunate affair filled her with shame.

"Yes, Mary, she did."

"Well, I felt so sorry, mamma. And Milly 'n' I, we didn't get but one
tart and one piece o' cake; for auntie had a party with 'em her own
self. Do you think 'twas right when she made 'em for Milly and me?"

Here Flaxie's eyes flashed.

"My child, we are talking of you now, not Auntie Prim."

"Yes'm, I know it, and I'm real sorry I'm so naughty; but Auntie Prim
_makes_ me naughty."

"Mary, Mary, you must not talk so about that good woman!"

"Oh, I know she's good, mamma. Why, she is the best woman in this town;
she's the best woman in the world! And she _knows_ she's good, and it
makes her just as proud!"

Now Mrs. Prim really was a person who _seemed_ to be proud of her
goodness, and Flaxie had described her very well; but Mrs. Gray said
again:

"Mary, we are talking of you now, not of Auntie Prim."

"Oh dear, I don't like to! I s'pect you think I don't try to be good;
but, mamma, I do! I try real hard. But," said the little girl, patting
her chest and her side, "there's something in me that's naughty clear
through."

The tears had come now and were dropping over the little fat hands, for
in spite of her queer way of talking, Flaxie felt really unhappy about
her bad conduct; though perhaps nobody but her mother would have
believed it.

These two good friends had a long talk,--the kind mamma and her little
daughter who meant to do better,--and when Ninny came to call them to
dinner, Flaxie said, joyfully,

"O Ninny, I'm going to begin new, and you mustn't 'member I ever was
naughty."

That was the way Mrs. Gray forgave her children; she put their
naughtiness far off and never talked of it any more. Is that the way God
forgives _his_ children?

After this, Flaxie was one of the most charming little girls you ever
saw for two whole months. She said it was because Mrs. Prim was gone;
but of course it was simply because she tried harder to be good; that
was all. Toward the last of the winter, Uncle Ben Allen, Milly's
father, passed through Laurel Grove on business, and spent the night at
Dr. Gray's.

"When I go home to-morrow," said he, "I'd like to take one of these
little girls. Have you one to spare?"

Now he knew very well which he wanted, but it wouldn't have been polite
to say so; he wanted Julia. He had always admired her gentle ways, and
her sweet patience with her trying sister Flaxie, and had often told his
wife that he loved Julia because she was "like a little candle." Perhaps
you will know what he meant, for I dare say you have learned these lines
at Sabbath school:

    "Jesus bids us shine with a clear, pure light,
    Like a little candle burning in the night;
    In this world of darkness so we must shine,
    You in your small corner, and I in mine."

But just because Julia _was_ such a beautiful little candle, her mother
couldn't spare her from home just now; it was much easier to spare
Flaxie.

Uncle Ben tried to look delighted when he heard Flaxie was going; but it
was not till her valise had been packed and she stood by the window
prepared for the journey, that he happened to remember it wasn't a good
time to take her to Hilltop, for Milly was gone!

This was a blow! Flaxie winked hard, trying not to cry.

"That is," said Uncle Ben, "perhaps she is gone. When I left home, a
week ago, her mother was talking of sending her to Troy, to her Aunt
Sarah's: but I declare I had forgotten all about it till this minute."

Mr. Allen was a man of business, and very forgetful, or he could not
have made such a blunder as this. And there was Flaxie's new and
elegant doll, Christie Gretchen, all packed in cotton, in a box by
itself, on purpose to show Cousin Milly.

"Well, my daughter, you can wait and go another time, that's all," said
Dr. Papa, oh, so cheerfully, as if it didn't make a bit of difference.

"Another time!" That was a little too dreadful. Flaxie felt as if it was
more than she could bear, when her bonnet was on and everything ready.

"Oh no, papa, I don't want to wait till another time. I want to go now."

"Yes, let her go," said Uncle Ben.

There wasn't much time to discuss the matter, and Flaxie was so eager
that it seemed a pity to disappoint her; so she went.

"Homesick?" Why, _she_ shouldn't be homesick! The truth was, she didn't
know what the word meant.

When they reached Hilltop, Milly _was_ gone. Aunt Charlotte was looking
for Uncle Ben, but when he alighted from the carriage there was a
glimmer of blue and gold, and Flaxie Frizzle appeared, borne aloft in
his arms. Aunt Charlotte ran to the door very much surprised.

"Why, you darling," said she, greeting her with kisses, "we didn't
expect you just now."

"I know it," returned the little guest triumphantly; "we wanted to
surprise you. I knew Milly wasn't here, but I thought I'd come to see
the rest of the folks."

Johnny and Freddy smiled at this very pleasantly; and little Ken, the
very small baby, cooed and sucked his thumb.

"I don't care a speck if Milly _is_ gone. I've brought a new dolly to
show you," cried Flaxie, whirling Aunt Charlotte's head around as if it
had been a revolving globe, and kissing her under the left ear.

"And oh, Uncle Ben and I had such a nice time on the cars! We had bread
with egg between, and bread with chicken between, and candy and pinnuts.
'Twas splendid!"

"Well, we'll have nice times here," returned Aunt Charlotte; but her
tone was doubtful. She knew how suddenly Flaxie sometimes changed from
one mood to another; and what could she do with such a wayward little
guest, when Milly was gone?

"I like Hilltop so much," went on Flaxie, pouring out compliments.
"Uncle Ben's so nice, you know; and Johnny, and Freddy, and the baby."

Freddy threw back his shoulders. He liked to be called "nice;" but
Johnny was older, and only laughed.

"And I can go to the stores if it does rain and go up in the
_alleviator_, for I brought my little umbrella."

"You don't need an umbrella in an elevator. And we don't _have_
elevators," said Johnny.

Everybody was smiling, for it was plain that Flaxie's head was a little
turned. She was thinking of New York city, and had forgotten that
Hilltop was only a small village.

She had been here two or three times before, and knew her way all over
the house: it was a double-house, with another family in the other part.
She remembered Aunt Charlotte's pictures, and vases, and
ship-thermometer, and the tidy with a donkey on it drinking from a
trough. She had spoiled two of the albums when she was a _little_ girl,
and broken ever so much china; so you see she had reason to feel quite
at home at Aunt Charlotte's. Ah, but she had never been there before
without her mother!

The afternoon did seem rather long, but Aunt Charlotte told funny
stories, and after a great while the boys came home from school, and
there was a jolly game of romps. Flaxie thought she was very happy.

"We are doing better with her than I expected," said Aunt Charlotte to
her husband next morning, when the bright face beamed on them at
breakfast. "I'm so glad you brought her, for I do miss my little Milly."

Flaxie, too, missed Milly, but was resolved to be a little woman, and
said to Christie Gretchen privately, "_We_ won't cry." After breakfast
she spent two hours in the kitchen with patient Nancy, spatting out
little ginger cakes, and picking dirt from the cracks of the floor with
a pin. Then she danced off to the sitting-room to play with the baby,
telling him "if he'd be goody, he'd grow up a doctor, like my papa." She
had promised the same thing to every boy baby at Laurel Grove, for
doctors were the best people in the world, she thought, and best of all
was Dr. Papa.

She was as happy as ever, and singing merrily in the front yard, when
the boys came home at noon. The moment she saw them she felt perfectly
forlorn, and it suddenly seemed to her as if she couldn't live any
longer without Milly. That wasn't the worst of it; she _knew_ she
couldn't live any longer without her mother.

It was a terrible feeling that swept all at once over little Flaxie. I
wonder if _you_ ever had it? If not, you can't understand it: it was
_homesickness_. There is no ache or pain like it in the whole world, and
it seemed to tingle all through Flaxie, from her head to her feet. She
ran into the sitting-room, ready to scream. "Oh, auntie, I feel so bad;
I feel bad all over!"

Mrs. Allen did not know what she meant.

"Not _all_ over," said she, looking up pleasantly. "Isn't there a good
spot somewhere, dear? Perhaps there's a wee spot on your little finger
that's almost good."

But Flaxie could not smile.

"It's right in here, in my heart, that I feel the worst," moaned she;
"'cause I can't see my mamma, and haven't anything to kiss but her
picture!"

Then Aunt Charlotte was full of sympathy, for she knew the dreadful
suffering Flaxie spoke of was homesickness. It seemed strange that it
should have seized her so suddenly,--but Flaxie was sudden about
everything.

"Why, my precious one," said Mrs. Allen, taking the unhappy child in her
lap, "you know Milly is coming home next week, and in one week more Dr.
Papa will send for you to go home. Two weeks won't be long."

"Oh, yes'm, oh, very long! And they oughtn't to have lemme come; I'm too
yo-u-ng!"

"Hullo! Is she sick?" cried Freddy, bursting into the room with a great
clatter.

His mother shook her head at him.

"I think Flaxie and I will take a ride in the cars to-morrow," said she.
"I think we'll go to Chicopee to see Mrs. Adams, who has some
gold-fishes, and a parrot, and a canary. How would you like that,
Flaxie?"

"Wouldn't like it a tall, 'cause _she_ isn't my mamma," sobbed the poor
little girl. "And we couldn't go to-morrow, 'cause to-morrow is Sunday."

"Sunday? First _I_ ever heard of it," said Freddy. "To-day is Friday, I
suppose you know?"

"Oh, Freddy, Freddy, I can't bear that. It's Saturday," said Flaxie.

As she spoke, the tears poured down her cheeks in little streams, and
she squeezed her eyelids together so tight that Freddy laughed, for he
thought the day of the week was a funny thing to cry about.

"To-day isn't Saturday," said he. "If 'tis, what did I go to school for?
Tell me that."

"Oh, it _is_ Saturday, Freddy Allen! Don't I know what day I came here?
I came Friday. Didn't I hear Ninny and mamma talk about it, and don't I
_know_?" screamed the wretched child, hopping up and down, then falling,
face downward, on the rug. "Oh, I can't bear it; I _can't_ bear it!
There, don't anybody in this town know what day it is! Nobody knows it
but me!"

This was funny enough to Freddy, but very painful to his mother, who
knew the deep trouble at the little girl's heart. Of course Flaxie
didn't care a bit what day of the week it was; she only felt so very
unhappy that she could not endure the slightest contradiction.

Before another word had been spoken, she sprang up and flew out of the
room. About two minutes afterward the front door slammed, and Freddy saw
her dashing down street with her hat and cloak on, swinging her valise
in one hand and her umbrella in the other.

[Illustration: FLAXIE LOOKED BEWILDERED. Page 60.]




CHAPTER IV.

LUCY'S MITTENS.

Aunt Charlotte ran to the door with the baby, calling out:

"Flaxie, come back! come back!"

But the little runaway would not even turn her head.

"Crazy," said Freddy, still laughing.

"I do believe," exclaimed his mother, "that child is going to the depot!
Run after her! You and Johnny both run!"

The boys did their best, but Flaxie was already far ahead, and never
once paused till she reached the station, where she nearly ran the
baggage-master through the body with her little umbrella.

"Now look here, my little lady," said he, catching her in his arms, "I
ain't used to being punched in this style, like a passenger-ticket; and
you'd better stop to explain."

"Oh, don't hold me, don't hold me! I'm going on the cars to my mamma.
_Let_ me go to my mamma!"

"Why, certainly," said the man, winking to Johnny and Freddy, who had
reached the platform and stood there panting. "_To_ be sure! We let
little girls go to their mothers. But you didn't think of starting on
ahead of the cars, did you?"

Flaxie looked bewildered.

"You see the cars haven't come," said Johnny, coaxingly. "You'd better
go back with Freddy and me, and wait awhile."

"No, no, no," said Flaxie, brandishing her umbrella. The boys were too
anxious to get her away, and she wouldn't trust them.

"The cars won't be here till two o'clock," said the baggage-man. "Now
I'd advise a nice little lady like you to eat your dinner before
starting on a journey. Or would you like it any better to have me lock
you up in the ladies'-room till two o'clock? But I should think you'd
get rather hungry."

He held up a big key as he spoke, and Flaxie gazed at it in dismay. Was
this the way they treated little girls that wanted to go to see their
mothers?

"Come, Freddy," said Johnny, "let's hurry home, or there won't be any
apple-dumpling left. If Flaxie doesn't want to come she needn't, you
know."

Johnny spoke with such a show of indifference that Flaxie was struck by
it. He was ten years old, just the age of her brother Preston, and had
had some experience in managing children younger than himself. As he
was walking off with Freddy, she trudged after, exclaiming:

"Well, will you lemme leave my umberella? Will you lemme come back
again? Will you, Johnny?"

"We'll see what mother says. What makes you come home with us? Why don't
you stay with the man and be locked up?" replied Master Johnny. But he
had her fast by the hand, and led her home in triumph.

"What did make you try to run away?" asked Freddy, when they were safely
in the house.

Flaxie felt rather ashamed by that time, for Aunt Charlotte and Uncle
Ben were both looking at her.

"I read about a little girl that did it," said she, dropping her eyes.

"Well, I'll read to you about a little girl that didn't do it."

"Hush, Freddy," said mamma, for Flaxie's lips were quivering, "we'll
have our dinner now, and then I am going to Chicopee to see Mrs. Adams,
who has the gold-fishes and parrot and canary. Flaxie may go with me if
she likes."

Flaxie brightened a little at this, and thought she wouldn't go home to
see her mother to-day; she would wait till to-morrow. Still her heart
ached now and then just as hard as ever, and when she was riding in the
cars that afternoon to Chicopee with her aunt beside her and her
second-best dolly in her arms, she did look the picture of woe.

"Toothache, perhaps," thought a woman who entered the car with a baby
and two little girls. One of the girls limped along, scowling as if
every step hurt her.

"How do you do, Mrs. Chase?" said Aunt Charlotte, making room for the
mother and baby by taking Flaxie in her lap; then turning over the seat
just in front of them for the two little girls. "I think it will be a
good thing for my niece, Flaxie Frizzle, to see your children, Mrs.
Chase."

Flaxie wondered why it should be a good thing; still she was glad the
little girls had come, for she liked to look at them.

Hattie was a bright child of six, just her own age; but the lame girl of
ten, what a white face she had! What very light, straw-colored hair! Her
manners were odd, Flaxie thought, for as soon as she saw the doll
Peppermint Drop, she snatched at her and would have pulled off her blue
satin sash if Flaxie had not drawn it away.

"Lucy, Lucy," said Mrs. Chase, "don't touch the little girl's doll!"

Then Lucy leaned forward again, and fingered the buttons on Aunt
Charlotte's dress, and stroked her fur cloak, with a smile. That was a
queer thing for such a large girl to do, but Aunt Charlotte did not seem
to mind it, and only said, "I fancy Lucy wants a lozenge," and popped
one into her mouth as if she had been a baby. Flaxie stared, and the
mother said, with a sad smile:

"Poor Lucy knows but very little. Aren't you sorry for her?"

"Oh dear, why doesn't she?" said Flaxie, forgetting her own trouble in
gazing at the strange little girl, who was now stroking Aunt Charlotte's
cloak again, as if she did not hear a word that was said. "Why doesn't
she know but little?"

"Because she was very sick a great many years ago, and it hurt her
mind."

"Can she talk?"

"She only says 'Papa,' 'Mamma,' 'Hattie.' She talks just about as well
as the baby does, and they play together half the time."

"Does she go to school?" asked Flaxie, growing very much interested
indeed.

"To school? Oh no! _she_ couldn't learn anything," said Mrs. Chase,
sighing.

But Hattie seemed rather proud of having such a strange sister.

"See that?" said she, holding up Lucy's right hand.

"Why, it's littler than mine, and all dried up," exclaimed Flaxie
Frizzle.

"Poor dear, she has lost her mittens again," said Mrs. Chase, wiping
Lucy's mouth. "I can't afford to keep buying mittens for her, she loses
them so."

"Wouldn't it be well to fasten them to her cloak-sleeve by a string?"
asked Mrs. Allen.

Flaxie gazed bewildered at this singular little girl, who could not wipe
her own mouth, or talk, or go to school. She had never known of such a
little girl before.

"Too bad about Lucy!" said she, thoughtfully, to her aunt as they got
out at Chicopee, and left the whole Chase family looking after them from
the car-window. "Is Lucy poor?"

"Very."

"Where does she live?"

"In Hilltop."

"Oh! I didn't s'pose she lived in Hilltop."

"There," said Aunt Charlotte, "now this next house is Mrs. Adams's,
where you will see the gold-fishes."

But Flaxie did not care just then for the gold-fishes.

"Auntie, don't you think Lucy ought to have some mittens?"

She spoke cheerily, as if mittens were the very thing, and the only
thing Lucy needed.

"And, auntie, _I_ can crochet!"

"Is it possible?" said Aunt Charlotte, thinking how many things Flaxie
had learned that little Milly knew nothing about. "How much can you
crochet?"

"Well, I made a scarf once for my dolly. I _wish_ I could make some
mittens for Lucy!"

"That's the very thing! I'll buy you some worsteds this afternoon," said
Aunt Charlotte, as she rang Mrs. Adams's door-bell; and Flaxie "smiled"
up her face in a minute, exclaiming:

"Red, auntie, please get 'em red!"

They had a lovely time with Mrs. Adams's gold-fish, and parrot, and
canary; but after all it was the vision of those red mittens that eased
the ache at Flaxie's poor little heart.

Auntie was all patience next morning, and her young niece all smiles;
and between them the ivory hook and the red worsteds kept moving.

"Lucy can't say 'thank you,' but her mamma'll be _so_ pleased," said
Flaxie, her face beaming. She really thought she was making the mittens
herself, because she took a stitch now and then.

"What, working on Sunday?" said teasing Johnny.

"Oh, it isn't Sunday, and I _didn't_ come Friday, and I _can_ wait two
weeks to see my mamma. You see I didn't know there was a little girl I
could make mittens for, or I shouldn't have cried," said Flaxie,
stopping a moment to kiss the baby.

The mittens were lovely. Aunt Charlotte finished them off at the wrists
with a tufted border. Lucy couldn't say "thank you," but her poor mother
was delighted, and fastened them to the child's cloak by a string, so
they wouldn't be lost.

The moment Milly got home from Troy and had been kissed all around,
Flaxie said:

"Oh, you don't know how I did feel, staying here all alone, Milly. But I
made those mittens, and then I felt better."

"What mittens?" asked Milly, who hadn't untied her bonnet yet, and
couldn't know in a minute everything that had happened.

"Why, Lucy's red mittens; don't you know? I tell you, Milly, what you
must do when you don't feel happy: you must make somebody some mittens."

This was Flaxie's way of saying "You must help other people." But Milly
knew what she meant. Children understand one another when the talking is
ever so crooked.

Flaxie had now been at Hilltop more than three weeks, and had become so
contented and happy that she was really sorry when Aunt Jane Abbott
appeared one morning to take her home.

"Thank you ever so much," said Miss Frizzle, politely; "but I don't care
'bout going home."

"Indeed!" said Aunt Jane, smiling. "And why not?"

"'Cause she wants to stay here and go to school with me," spoke up
Milly, with her cheek close to Flaxie's.

"But we thought she'd like to see her little brother Phil; he has eight
teeth," said Aunt Jane.

"Oh yes'm, I do, I do!"

"Now, Flaxie," pleaded Milly, looking grieved, "when you haven't been to
my school, and haven't seen my elegant teacher!"

"Well, but isn't Philip my brother? And so are Preston and Ninny. I
forgot about them."

"And don't you want to see your mother too?" asked Aunt Jane, with
another smile. She had been smiling ever since she came.

"Oh, yes, my mamma; I want to see her most of anybody in this
world--'cept my papa!"

Milly's head drooped.

"Oh, but I'm coming back again," said Flaxie, kissing her. "And then
I'll go to school. Where's my valise?"

She was such a restless, impatient little girl that it wasn't best to
let her know till the last minute what a beautiful thing had happened at
home. But the next morning, when her hat and cloak were on, Aunt Jane
told her she had a dear, new little baby sister, three days old!

Flaxie did just what you might expect she would do: clapped her hands
and cried for joy.

"What's her name? Has she any teeth? Has she any curls? Where does she
sleep?"

"Why, what's the matter now?" said Uncle Ben, coming in as Flaxie and
Milly were whirling around the room in each other's arms.

"Oh, good-bye, Uncle Ben, good-bye! I don't know what her name is, but
there's a little sister at home, and I must go right off in the cars. I
_wish_ I had some _seven-legged_ boots! Good-bye, Uncle Ben."

She meant _seven-league_ boots, for the cars did seem very slow. And
when she got home the baby was so small that she laughed and cried
again.

"Oh, it's the little _bit-of-est_ baby ever I saw!"

Phil had a grieved lip. He hardly liked the little pink morsel in the
nurse's lap; but he was glad to see Flaxie, and stood on his head with
delight.

Mamma looked very happy, and so did Dr. Papa. Ninny went singing about
the house, and Preston whistled more than ever.

It was all beautiful, only Flaxie wanted to have a "talk" with mamma,
but nurse said, "You'd better go down-stairs to play;" and then, not
long after supper, she said again, "And now you'd better go to bed!"

"A queer woman, scolding so to other people's little girls," thought
Flaxie.




CHAPTER V.

THAT HOMELY MISS PIKE.


The nurse did leave the room next day for a minute, and Flaxie ran up to
the bed and nestled close to her mother.

"Now I'll tell you all about it. I wanted to see you so, my heart ached
and ached, and once I ran away home."

"You did, darling? I'm glad I didn't know it," said mamma, kissing her.

"I didn't tell anybody--much," returned Flaxie. "I thought 'twasn't
polite. And then auntie bought me some red worsteds, and I made some
mittens for a sick girl named Lucy, that can't wipe her mouth, or go to
school, or talk; and it made me just as happy!"

"That was right. Of course it made you happy to forget yourself and help
somebody else."

"Yes'm, I know _all about_ that!" replied Flaxie, with a wise look. She
had learned a deep lesson from those mittens.

"But I don't ever want to go away again," said she, dropping a tear on
the pillow, "for there isn't any _you_ and Dr. Papa anywhere else."

"Oh, some time you'll want to."

"No, mamma. When I said I'd go there to school with Milly I didn't know
about my baby sister. I ought to stay and take care of her, and never go
away any more as long as I live,--not till I die, and go to heaven."

But three months passed, and Flaxie had forgotten all this. She was
always fond of the baby, whose name was Ethel Gray; but sometimes she
thought Ethel needn't cry quite so much, and ought to cut a tooth, and
ought to have more hair.

                 *       *       *       *       *

The world looked dark to Flaxie, for she was sick that spring, and a
long while getting well. It was a queer sort of illness too. First it
made her look yellow and then pea-green, and Julia had to sing and smile
a great deal in order to keep her at all comfortable.

    "After dandelions, buttercups,
      After buttercups, clover;
    One blossom follows another one,
      Over and over and over!"

sang Julia one evening, when Flaxie was making ready to take her
medicine.

"Now, Flaxie dear, swallow it like a lady."

"Yes. Dr. Papa knows a great deal, and I shall do just as he says,"
replied the little girl, grasping her cup of rhubarb tightly in one
hand, and a glass of cold water in the other.

It was a comfort to see her take her medicine for once without crying,
and Preston shouted "Hurrah!"

She was pea-green at this time, and oh, so cross! For supper she had had
three slices of bread and butter, and cried because she couldn't have
the fourth.

"If the poor little thing wasn't so cross we'd send her to Aunt
Charlotte's for a change," said Dr. Papa in a low voice to his wife; but
Flaxie heard it.

"Oh, mamma, do lemme go to Aunt Charlotte's, and go to school with
Milly; she has such a dear teacher! And Milly's my twin cousin, born
just the same month. And I won't be cross if they _don't_ give me enough
to eat; and I'll take a whole bushel o' pills!"

"Let her go," laughed papa; "the bushel of pills settles it."

Flaxie was six and a half years old, and could have gone to Hilltop
alone--almost; but as Captain Jones happened to be travelling that way,
Dr. Papa thought he would pretend to put her in his charge.

"Did you ever go in the cars alone, Ninny, with your own valise, and a
check in your pocket?" asked Flaxie in glee, as she rode up to the
station; "and oh, a umbrella, too!"

"No, I never did--at your age," replied Ninny, who was now a young lady
of twelve.

"You see Uncle Ben will be there to meet me when we get to Hilltop,"
said Miss Frizzle, fluttering her darling umbrella against the captain's
spectacles; "and won't he laugh when he sees me coming all alone, with a
check in my pocket?"

"Good-bye, curly-head; take care of that umbrella," said her father,
kissing her pea-green cheek, and hurrying out of the car as the bell
rang.

"Let's see, where is Hilltop, and how will you know when you get there?"
asked the captain, before Flaxie had time to cry.

"Oh, it's where Uncle Ben lives and Aunt Charlotte," replied the little
traveller, who had a vague idea that the house was in the middle of a
snow-drift, with roses in the front yard and strawberries behind it.
"Their name is Allen."

"Well, I'm glad you've told me all the particulars," said the captain
gravely. "And I shall be easy, for we can't miss it."

Flaxie smiled and looked at her check. She felt the whole care of the
journey, but it didn't trouble her at all, for the captain would tell
her when to stop. She "'membered" all about Hilltop just as well as
could be, but she didn't _'xactly_ know where it was!

It was a pleasant ride on that beautiful spring day, and the captain
would have been very agreeable, only he seemed to have a perfect horror
of "pinnuts," the very things Flaxie had dreamed about and expected to
eat all the way. He shook his head at the peanut boys, and told her he
"wished they would keep away with their trash!" If he had only gone into
a smoking-car and left her, she might have bought some, for she had her
red portemonnaie with her; but then he never thought of leaving her, for
he really had no idea she was travelling alone.

She had said Uncle Ben would laugh at meeting her; and so he did. He
threw up both hands and cried, "Bless me! what's all this?" for it is
not every day one sees a little girl of just that color; but he looked
sober the next minute.

"Poor little thing, you've had a hard time."

"Oh no, sir, not very," said Flaxie, thinking he meant the journey. "I
like to travel alone."

Captain Jones, who was putting the little umbrella into the carriage,
laughed, and said he wished he had known that before.

"Good-bye," said he, kissing his hand to her. "I shall miss you very
much, for _I don't_ like to travel alone!"

Then Flaxie drove off with her uncle in the nice easy carriage, and
found Aunt Charlotte and all her cousins delighted to see her, as she
had known they would be. She had told the captain they were "elegant
cousins;" but when Johnny exclaimed, "Hullo! Miss Frizzle, you look like
a pickled lime," she blushed a sort of pinkish-green blush, and thought
he had grown very disagreeable.

"Well, I didn't mean anything. I've seen folks look worse'n you do--a
good deal," added the little fellow, and thought it a handsome apology.

"I'll tell you who looks worse," he broke in again, as they were all
seated at supper; "it's our teacher, Miss Pike. She isn't the same color
by a long shot, but she's awful homely."

"Is she? Well, I guess I shan't go to school."

"Johnny ought not to speak in that way of his dear teacher," said Aunt
Charlotte gravely; "it is not her fault that she is not pretty; and
everybody loves her, for she has a beautiful soul."

"Oh, yes, everybody loves her," said Master Freddy; "but didn't Jemmy
Glover send her a mean valentine last winter?

    'Old Miss Pike, she's ninety-nine,
    Her hair's the color of a ball of twine.'"

"If she looks so bad, why don't she let the doctor take care of her?"
asked Flaxie, thoughtfully. "Dr. Papa gives me medicine three times a
day, and I'm going to be real white."

"Oh, Miss Pike isn't sick; she was born so, and medicine wouldn't help
her any," said Johnny, trying hard not to laugh at his simple little
cousin. "I'll take you to see her to-morrow."

Flaxie set her teeth firmly into a cookie, resolving that she would not
see such a monster of ugliness, much less go to school to her, not if
Johnny should drag her to the schoolhouse by a rope.

After tea she sat on the front doorsteps awhile in Milly's lap. The
little friends had a way of sitting in each other's lap, and it was a
droll sight, as they were just of a size.

"Where's Lucy, that I made the mittens for?" asked Flaxie.

"Oh, she's at home, but her sister Hatty goes to school."

"Well, I shan't have to make mittens or anything this time, 'cause
you're at home, Milly. I like to be with my twin cousin in a twin
house," said Flaxie, twisting her neck to look at Mrs. Hunter's
door-stone. It was just like Aunt Charlotte's, only there were
flower-pots on it.

"Guess what I dreamed last night," returned Milly. "I dreamed you were
my sister; and then I woke up and thought how queer it is that God
always sends brothers to this house, and not any sisters."

"Why so he does; for Johnny and Freddy are _both_ boys, and so is Ken,"
said Flaxie, struck with a new idea. "It's real-too-bad!"

"But now you've come, and we'll go to school together, and it's just as
well," said Milly, kissing her pea-green friend in rapture.

"Oh, I didn't say I'd go to school, Milly Allen.--Why, who's that
coming?"

"Hush! that's my teacher and her sister."

"Which is the sister?"

"The big one."

"Well, she's got the dropsies."

"Oh, no, she hasn't; she teaches the singing in our school."

"But she _has_ got the dropsies, Milly Allen, for a fat woman has 'em
where I live, and my papa takes care of her; so don't I know?"

Milly said no more, for _her_ papa was not a doctor; so what right had
she to give an opinion concerning diseases?

The two ladies nodded and smiled in passing. "Oh, how homely!" whispered
Flaxie, in amazement; "I mean the other one, not the sister."

There was no doubt about it. I really suppose Miss Pike was one of the
ugliest women in the whole state. Her eyes were small and half shut;
her mouth was large and half open; her nose was enormous, and turned up
at the end,--and, to crown the whole, it was red!

Milly, who had always known her, did not mind her looks. Indeed, so
little can children judge of the beauty of those they love, that I dare
say she might have thought her dear teacher quite handsome if she had
not heard everybody speak of her as "that homely Miss Pike."

"We don't have such looking folks keep school where I live," said
Flaxie, in scorn.

"I can't help it if you don't," returned Milly, slipping her cousin off
her lap with much indignation. "God made her so, and my mamma says you
mustn't notice how anybody looks when they have a beautiful soul."

"Well, you won't get _me_ to go to school, not if you give me five
million thousand dollars, Milly Allen!" said Flaxie; and their loving
chat on the doorstep was over for the evening.

Flaxie kept her word, and Milly went off next morning half crying; but
little Freddy confided to his mother that _he_ was "glad Flaxie wouldn't
go to school, for the scholars would laugh at her, true as you live."

It was rather dull, all alone with Aunt Charlotte and little Ken, who
was cutting his teeth and cried a great deal; but Flaxie held out for a
whole week. This was fortunate, as it gave time for the greenish color
to fade out of her face, and her own natural pink and white to come back
again as beautiful as ever.

"I guess I _will_ go to school with you, Milly, if you want me to so
much," said she at last one morning, when her cousins had all stopped
teasing her. "I just despise Miss Pike, but I like the one that has the
dropsies, and I want to hear her sing."

Such a hugging and kissing followed this remark that Flaxie felt as if
she had said a very fine thing, and started off with Milly, carrying her
head very high.

The schoolhouse was white, with green blinds, and stood on the bank of
the river, shaded by trees. Burdocks, milkweed, rushes, dandelions, and
buttercups, were sprinkled around, while close down by the river was a
narrow strip of clay bank, very nice to cut into with penknives,--as you
would think if you had seen the pretty images some of the children made
and spread out on boards in the sun.

Inside the schoolhouse it was nice and cool, with a large entry and
recitation-room, and flowers on the desks and tables. The teacher, "that
homely Miss Pike," moved about softly, and spoke in low, sweet tones,
smiling, and showing even white teeth.

"I s'pose her soul will fly right out of her when she dies,--and _that_
won't have a red nose," thought Flaxie, gazing at her with curiosity
mingled with awe.

Somehow there was a happy feeling all over the schoolroom because Miss
Pike was in it, and Flaxie's thoughts grew pleasant, she could not have
told why. But one thing she did know, she wanted to be a good girl,--not
pretty good, but the very best in the world,--that that sweet woman
might love her.




CHAPTER VI.

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.


"Well, darling," said Aunt Charlotte at noon, "you said you went to hear
the singing, and you look as if you had enjoyed it."

"Oh, the singing isn't as good as Miss Pike; she's just the best woman.
Only," added Flaxie regretfully, "I _wish_ I could see her soul,
auntie!"

Mrs. Allen smiled.

"Wait till you know her better, and then you'll see it shine through her
face. There's a good look about her that is better than beauty."

After she had once begun, Flaxie would not have missed a day at school
for anything. She had never learned so fast before, for she had never
had a teacher she loved so well.

"Oh, auntie," said she one day, "I've seen her soul shine! It shines
when she smiles."

Milly and Flaxie were the best scholars, so Miss Pike told Aunt
Charlotte. But they did not study all the time. Oh, no. Miss Pike
understood children, and didn't _expect_ them to study all the time. She
often drew pictures on the blackboard for them to copy on the slate, and
if they wanted to bring their dinners and play at noon she was perfectly
willing; only they were not to scream too loud, or go near the desks,
for fear of spilling the ink. She noticed that the little girls were
more noisy after Flaxie Frizzle came; but this was not strange, for
Flaxie knew a great many games that the Hilltop children had never heard
of before.

"Lesson? Oh, yes. I've got that ole thing," she would say sometimes, as
she rushed for her hat long before school-time.

"Spell _ocean_, then," said studious Milly, following her with the
spelling-book in her hand.

"_O-s-h-u-n._ There! I'm in a hurry. I want to get to school to play
'Bloody Murder.'"

That sounded dreadful, but I dare say was not as bad as it seemed. And
one day after Flaxie had taught the little folks all the games she could
possibly remember, she thought of a new thing to do.

"See there, Milly," said she, pointing to a high pile of boards behind
the schoolhouse, under one of the windows. "A man has gone and put those
down there, and now let's make a house of 'em, and live in it!"

Milly hugged Flaxie, it was such a bright idea. Make a house? Of course
they would! They had made cupboards out of shingles and stones, and put
clay dishes on the shelves; they had dug ovens all along the bank like
swallows' nests; but a real live house, what could be so charming as
that?

But when you came to think of it, it wasn't what you might call easy
work, for the boards were very heavy; and with all their tugging the
little girls could only drag them a little way across the ground.

"Well, Johnny will help," said Milly, puffing for breath. "And perhaps
Freddy will too."

She knew they couldn't coax Freddy quite as well as they could Johnny.
The little girls never once thought of asking who owned the boards, but
I will tell you; it was Esquire Blake, and he was intending to use them
to repair his office, which stood not far from the schoolhouse.

"'Twill be our ownty-doanty house, and nobody must come into it but us,"
said Flaxie, gazing with satisfaction at the clean boards.

"The boys must come," suggested Milly.

"Well, yes, I s'pose they'll have to, if they help make it."

"And Ada Blake."

"You always want Ada Blake to go everywhere," pouted Flaxie. "We can
invite her for company, if you want to, but 'twill be _our_ house."

Johnny thought it all nonsense, but consented to undertake the business.
He drove four stakes into the ground, near a beautiful maple-tree, and
then nailed boards on the stakes all around, making a pen about three
feet high. Everybody looked on deeply interested. After that he and
Freddy went fishing. The little girls felt very impatient.

"Oh dear," said Milly, "it doesn't look much like a house. You'd think
it was for pigs to live in."

Next day it rained; but the day after, as Johnny could get no peace of
his life, he nailed on more boards, till the pen was so high you
couldn't see over it, unless you stood on tiptoe. That was high enough;
but where was the roof?

"Oh, bother, what do you want of a roof? Hold up your umbrella."

"Next house I make I'll make it myself!" cried Flaxie, stamping her
foot.

That amused good-natured Johnny, and he called together some of the
boys, to help him put on a sloping roof. Then he sawed a door in the
side next the river; and when all was done the building looked so much
like a "truly house" that the little girls screamed for joy, and Johnny
felt rather proud of his work.

"Tell you what," said he, looking around at the boys, "this is the house
that Jack built. Now let's saw a hole in the roof and put in a
stove-pipe."

Ah, Johnny! Johnny! it was thoughtless enough to use those boards
without leave; but to put in a stove-pipe was downright madness!

The girls were charmed, and wanted a fireplace immediately. Why not?
That wasn't much to make, and they made it themselves with the loose
pieces of brick they picked out of the old hearth in the
recitation-room.

Squire Blake knew nothing of this; neither did the teacher. The new and
elegant building was located on the bank behind the schoolhouse, and as
the windows that way let in the sun, the blinds were kept closed, and
Miss Pike did not look out. If she had only looked out! But then perhaps
she wouldn't have thought much about it; for who would dream of little
daughters of respectable parents bringing matches to school?

It might be very funny to light a fire on one's own little hearth, and
bake one's own little biscuits for tea; but then it was certainly wrong.
If it hadn't been wrong, why didn't the little girls tell of it at home?
What made Flaxie seize a bunch of matches from the kitchen-shelf and
hide them in her pocket? What made Milly snatch that piece of dough when
Nancy's back was turned, and run away with it so fast? Children are
never sly, you know, when they are doing right.

If these biscuits turned out well, they were to bake some more
to-morrow, and have what Johnny called a "house-warming," and Freddy
had partly promised some fish. But this was only the very first day of
housekeeping, and they had invited nobody but Ada Blake to tea,--Ada and
her dolls.

It seemed as if recess would never come that afternoon, and when it came
it wasn't "any longer than your little finger." The fire was kindled the
very first minute, the thimble-biscuits rolled out, and then the three
children sat on the grass around their hearth to watch the baking. Seven
dolls sat there too, with their party-dresses on, waiting very politely.
There was a dictionary in the middle of the room for a table, with a
pocket-handkerchief spread on it for a table-cloth, and Milly had set
out all her best dishes there at noon, with a dot of butter, a pinch of
sugar, and some bits of cake.

"I guess our oven is slow; they don't bake much," said Milly, peeping at
the biscuits, which were placed in a row on a cabbage-leaf at a
respectful distance from the fire.

"Let's wish something while we're waiting," said hungry Flaxie, who had
only snatched a very hurried dinner. "I wish this world was one big
doughnut, with only us to eat it!"

"Pshaw!" sniffed Milly, "why didn't you wish something
good,--sponge-cake, with jelly between?"

"Wish yourself, Milly Allen, if you can do it so much better'n I can,"
retorted Flaxie, putting another stick on the fire.

"Well, lemme see; I wish you and I were sisters, Flaxie Frizzle, and Ada
was our aunt come from Boston."

"Well there, Milly Allen, that isn't half as nice as my doughnut! What's
the use to wish we were sisters, when we are twins now, and that's
almost as good?"

"Oh, I never!" laughed Ada. "Such a _nidea_ as _you_ being twins! You
weren't born the same day, either of you! Twins have to be born the same
day, now truly, or they can't _be_ twins!"

There was wisdom in Ada's voice, and wisdom in her superior smile.
Flaxie raised her eyes, but that smile was too much for her, and she
dropped them again. If there was one thing Flaxie could not bear, it was
to be laughed at by a girl of her own age, who knew more than she did.

At that moment the school-bell rang, and, oh dear, those biscuits were
not half done! So very queer, too, for the stove-pipe was red-hot, and
roaring away beautifully!

The three little cooks were the last to enter the schoolhouse, and Miss
Pike wondered what they were whispering about in the entry.

"Dear little creatures," thought she, petting their heads, "I'm glad
they've had a good time, for they deserve it!"

She called a class, and everything went on as usual, till suddenly she
thought she smelt smoke, and went to the window to look out.

Miss Pike was a most sensible young lady, and knew better than to
scream; but I assure you she never felt more like screaming in her life.
The "house that Jack built" was all ablaze from top to bottom, and had
already set fire to the schoolhouse!

She had to think fast. There were sixty children to be got out, and no
time to lose. If they should know the house was on fire they would be
crazed with fright and run hither and thither like wild creatures; it
would never do to let them know it.

Miss Sarah was at the farther end of the room setting copies slowly,
very slowly. She did not look up, and Miss Pike had no time to go and
speak to her; the only thing she could do was to walk quietly up to the
desk and ring the bell. That meant, "Put up your books." A strange order
while a class was reciting; but it was obeyed instantly.

"Star-spangled Banner," said Miss Pike, calmly. She could see the little
tongues of flame running along the ceiling now, but she looked as if she
was thinking of nothing but music and waiting for Miss Sarah to pitch
the tune. Miss Sarah dropped her pen and did it of course, wondering
why; and all the sixty voices joined in it, clear and loud, as they had
often done before; while in time to the music the whole sixty children
marched in orderly file out of the room.

"_Now, run!_" cried Miss Pike, the moment the last child was in the
entry, "run and tell everybody the schoolhouse is on fire!"

She had a pail of water in her hand. The children rushed through the
streets screaming; the bells began to ring; the Hilltop fire-engine came
out; and all the people and horses and dogs in the village. But Miss
Pike was the first to pour water on the flames, and everybody said it
was she who saved the schoolhouse.

There was a black hole in the wall, and another in the roof; the books
were, many of them, soaked and ruined; the floor an inch deep with
water, and it would take a whole week to set things to rights. But the
schoolhouse was saved.

"Why, how did it take fire?" asked Uncle Ben, who had been out of town
and did not come back till all was over.

The boys looked another way, the twin cousins hung their heads. Aunt
Charlotte did not answer. She was wondering which child would speak
first.

It was Flaxie Frizzle. Her face was very pale, and her eyes were fixed
on the carpet.

"We've got something _orful_ to tell you," said she, her voice
trembling; "we baked our biscuits, and Johnny built a house out there
with a stove-pipe in, and we oughtn't to taken any matches. You better
believe we cried!"

"Well, well, you young rogues; so _you_ set the schoolhouse afire? And
who saved it?"

"Miss Pike!" broke forth all the children in chorus.

"Yes," said Johnny; "but she marched us all out first, so the little
ones wouldn't get burnt. Never said a word about the fire till we got
out!"

"She always does things just right. She's one of God's girls," cried
Freddy.

"Yes," broke in Flaxie, strongly excited; "I don't care if I can't see
her soul. I've seen it shine! Oh, it's beautiful to be homely!"

Nobody smiled--they all thought Flaxie was right.

"Yes, it is beautiful to be homely in just Miss Pike's way," said Aunt
Charlotte.

And then they went out to supper, and, as the twin cousins looked
broken-hearted, nothing more was said about the house that Jack built.

"Oh, Flaxie, _do_ you s'pose we've suffered enough?" asked little Milly
that night after they had said their prayers and were lying in bed
looking at the pure soft moonlight which shone on the far-away hills.

"I don' know. I feel as if I had a pain, don't you? Oh dear!"

"Yes, that's just the way I feel; a pain way in deep," replied Milly,
heaving a sorrowful sigh. "And I ought to, I'm glad of it."

"Glad, Milly Allen? How queer! Why, _I_ don't like to feel bad!"

"I don't either," said Milly, sitting up in bed and speaking very
earnestly. "But don't you 'member what Auntie Prim said that time we ran
away from the party? She said children ought to suffer for their
naughtiness; it's the only way they can learn to behave better."

"Well, any way," said Flaxie, rolling her eyes uneasily, "'twas Johnny
that put in the stove-pipe, and he ought to feel the worst. I'm going to
ask Preston about that, see 'f I don't."

Two days after this Flaxie went home, and her little frizzled head was
not seen at Hilltop any more till the next December. Then her dear
Grandma Gray had rheumatic fever, and though Flaxie pitied her all she
could, she made too much noise in the house, and had to be sent away.
But I will tell you about that in the next chapter.




CHAPTER VII.

HILLTOP AGAIN.


"Little red riding hood, where are you going?"

"Going to see my grandmother," replied Flaxie Frizzle, peeping out from
under her scarlet hood. "And here's a pat of butter for her in this wee,
wee basket."

"My dear Red Riding Hood, your grandmother is too sick to eat butter.
Shut the door, walk very softly, and bring me my writing-desk. I'm going
to write Aunt Charlotte, and ask her if she wants you at Hilltop."

"Oh, mamma, how elegant! Is it 'cause grandma's sick?" cried Flaxie,
dropping her wee, wee basket, butter and all. She ought to have been
ashamed to find she was so noisy that she had to be sent away from home;
but she never thought about that. She did try to keep still, but as she
had said to Julia that very morning, "there wasn't any still in her!"

"Oh, let me write it myself to Milly; please let me write it myself."

Flaxie was seven years old now, and had actually learned how to scribble
pretty fast. She was very proud of this, for Milly could do nothing but
print.

She seized a postal card, ruled it downhill with a pencil, and wrote on
it a few cramped-up words, huddled close together like dried apples on a
string:

     "Dear Twin Little Cousin: My Mamma is going to let me go to your
     House and go to school to your Dear teacher, becaus I make too
     much noise, and Grammy is sick with Something in her back and Ime
     glad but not unless your Mamma is willing. Wont you please to write
     and say so. My lines are unstraight, and its real too bad Good by
     FLAXIE FRIZZLE."

Mrs. Gray smiled when her little daughter asked how to spell
_unstraight_, and smiled again when she saw the card and read, "Dear
twin little cousin."

"Oh, I know better than that," explained Flaxie, blushing: "we're not
twins a bit, and couldn't be if we should try, and we've known it for
quite a long time; but you see, mamma, we're _make-believing_, just for
fun."

"I never saw such a child for 'make-believing,'" said Mrs. Gray, kissing
Flaxie, who skipped gayly out of the room to pack her valise.

She always packed it, if there was the least thing said about going
away. She didn't mind the trouble, it was such a pretty valise,--made
of brown canvas, with leather straps like a trunk. And she knew Aunt
Charlotte would want her at Hilltop,--people always do want little
girls, and can't have too many of them,--and it was best to be ready in
season.

So she looked up her little umbrella, with F. F. painted on it in white
letters, her school-books that she had been playing school with all over
the house, and a half bushel or so of her best dolls. But as she did not
go for a week, she had time to lose these things over and over, and some
of them were never found any more.

"Now, darling," said mamma, when Flaxie had bidden good-bye to papa and
Preston, and Ninny and the baby, and was just entering the car behind
her friend Mrs. Prim. "Now, darling, don't be troublesome to dear Aunt
Charlotte, and if you'll learn to be good and orderly and sweet like
your Cousin Milly, I shall be so glad."

Flaxie pondered upon this speech as she sat rattling along in the cars,
munching peanuts, while Mrs. Prim took care of the shells.

"Troublesome. Oh, my! 's if _I_ ever troubled anybody! 'Cept Grandma
Gray; and that's 'cause she's got something in her back. But mamma
_always_ thinks Milly is nicer than me! Queer what makes mammas _never_
like their own little girls!--I mean, not much. Now Aunt Charlotte
thinks I'm the nicest. She scolds to Milly sometimes, but she don't
scold to ME!"

Hilltop had been green when Flaxie left it, but now it was white, and
seemed lovelier than ever, for Johnny had a new sled, and was "_such_ a
kind-hearted boy!" That is, he was always ready to draw the twin cousins
on the ice till they were half frozen and begged him to stop, and I
hardly see how he _could_ have been kinder than that!

Then the school was "perfickly elegant," taught by that same dear
teacher, Miss Pike. What if her nose _was_ red, and her mouth so large
that little Betty Chase called her "the lady that can't shut her face"?
She was just lovely for all that, and Flaxie and Milly couldn't forget
that she had saved the schoolhouse when it was set on fire by mistake.
After that she hadn't looked homely a minute,--only "a beautiful
homely," that is ever and ever so much better than handsome;--and the
little girls fairly adored her.

Now Flaxie was quick to learn, but as a general thing she didn't study
very hard, I am obliged to confess. When she couldn't spell her lessons
she said to Milly, "It's 'cause you don't have the same kind of books we
have where I live. The words look so queer in your books!"

If Flaxie was noisy at Laurel Grove, what was she at Hilltop? Sometimes
in the evening, when she played the piano and sang, Aunt Charlotte was
really afraid she would disturb Mrs. Hunter, who lived in the other half
of the house.

"Oh, I like it," said Mrs. Hunter, pleasantly; "but don't you think,
Mrs. Allen, there is danger of her pounding your piano in pieces?"

But by and by there wasn't so much time for music and play. The busy
season had begun, when everybody was making ready for Christmas; and the
twin cousins had as much as they could do in talking over what they were
_going_ to do, as they sat in each other's lap and looked at their
work-baskets.

Flaxie wanted to make a marvellous silk bedquilt for her dear mamma out
of pieces as big as a dollar; but, finding there wouldn't be time for
that, concluded to buy her a paper of needles, "if it didn't cost too
much."

Probably there wouldn't have been anything done but talking if Aunt
Charlotte hadn't brought out some worsteds and canvas and set the
helpless little ones at work upon a holder called the "Country Cousin."
They had a hard time over this young lady, and almost wished sometimes
that she had never been born; but she turned out very brilliant at last,
in a yellow skirt, red waist, and blue bonnet, with a green parasol over
her head. After this they had courage to make some worsted balls for the
babies, some cologne mats for their brothers who never used cologne, and
some court-plaster cases for somebody else, with the motto, "I stick to
you when others cut you."

Both the children were tired with all this labor, and Flaxie discovered,
after her presents were packed and ready to send off by express, that
she didn't feel very well.

"My throat is so sore I can't _swoler_,"--so she wrote on a postal to
her mother; for when she was sick she wanted everybody to know it.

Before Aunt Charlotte heard of the sad condition of her throat, she had
said she might go with Milly and Johnny and some of the older children
in the village, to see the ladies trim the church. But when Flaxie came
into the parlor with her teeth chattering, Aunt Charlotte began to fear
she ought not to go out.

"Are you so very chilly, my dear?"

"Yes 'm, I am," replied Flaxie, with a doleful look around the corners
of her mouth. "This house isn't heated by steam like my house where I
live, and I'm drefful easy to freeze!" And her teeth chattered again.

Aunt Charlotte looked anxious, as she drew on her gloves.

"My child, you'd better not go to the church, for it's rather cold
there."

"Cold as a barn," put in Johnny.

"Oh, auntie, do please, lemme go! I'm cold, but it's a _warm_ cold
though," said Flaxie, eagerly; and her teeth stopped chattering.

"I'm sorry, Flaxie, but there's a chill in the air like snow, and if
your throat is sore it is much wiser for you to stay at home," said Aunt
Charlotte, gently but firmly, like a good mother who is accustomed to be
obeyed by her children.

And poor Flaxie was obliged to submit, though it cut her to the heart
when Milly gave her a light kiss and skipped away; and she did think it
was cruel in Aunt Charlotte to advise her to go into the nursery and
stay with Nancy and the baby. She wished she had never said a word about
her throat.

"It don't feel any worse'n a mosquito-bite," thought she, watching the
gay party from the window,--half a dozen ladies and as many children;
"it don't hurt me to swallow either,"--swallowing her tears.

"Hilltop's such a queer place! Not the least speck of steam in the
houses! If they had steam, you could go anywhere, if your throat _was_
sore! And I never saw anybody trim a church; and oh, Milly says they'll
have _beau_-tiful flowers, and crosses, and things! _I_ never saw
anybody trim _anything_--'cept a loaf of cake and flowers on a bonnet."

Foolish Flaxie, to stand there winking tears into her eyes! _You_ would
have known better; you would have gone into the nursery to play with
that lovely baby; but there were times, I am sorry to say, when Flaxie
really enjoyed being unhappy. So now she stood still, rolling her
little trouble over and over, as boys roll a snowball, making it larger
and larger, till presently it was as big as a mountain.

"Auntie _said_ I might go, and then she wouldn't lemme! Made me stay at
home to play with that ole baby! He's squirmy and wigglesome; what do I
want to play with _him_ for, when she _said_ I might go? I like good
aunties; I don't like the kind that tell lies.

"Oh, my throat _is_ growing sore, and I'm going off up-stairs to stay in
the cold, and get sick, 'cause they ought to keep steam; and _then_ I
guess auntie'll be sorry!"

I grieve to tell you this about Flaxie, for I fear you will not like a
little girl who could be so very naughty.

When the happy party of church-trimmers came home at tea-time, there she
was up-stairs in the "doleful dumps;" and it was a long while before
Milly could coax her down.

When she came at last, her face was a sight to behold--all purple, and
spotted, and striped; for a fit of crying always gave her the appearance
of measles. She consented to take a seat at table, but ate little, said
nothing, and gazed mournfully at her plate.

This distressed Aunt Charlotte, but she asked no questions, and tried to
keep Johnny talking, so he would not notice his afflicted little cousin.

"Now what _does_ make you act so?" asked Milly, as soon as tea was over.

    "'Got a _cricket_ in my neck;
    Can't move it a single speck,'"

replied Flaxie, not knowing she had made poetry, till Johnny, who was
supposed to be ever so far off, began to laugh; and then she moved her
neck fast enough, and shook her head, and stamped her foot.

"Let's go in the nursery, so Johnny can't plague you," said the
peace-loving Milly. "I'm so sorry you're sick."

Flaxie had not meant to speak, but she could not help talking to Milly.

"Wish I'se at home," said she, reproachfully, "'cause my mamma keeps
pepmint."

"Why, Flaxie, my mamma keeps it too. We've got lots and lots of it in
the cupboard."

"Don't care if you have," snapped Flaxie. "I just despise pepmint. It's
something else I want, and can't think of the name of; but I know you
don't keep it, for your papa isn't a doctor!"

It was not the first time Flaxie had wounded her sweet cousin's feelings
by this same cutting remark.

"Dr. Papa keeps _tittlish_ powders in blue and white papers, and one of
the papers _buzzes_. I guess he'd give me that, but I don't know," added
Flaxie, crying again harder than ever, though the tears fell like fire
on her poor, sore cheeks.




CHAPTER VIII.

A CRAZY CHRISTMAS.


"You dear little thing," said Aunt Charlotte, coming into the room with
Ken in her arms, but putting him down and taking up her naughty niece.
"You've been getting homesick all by yourself this long afternoon. Where
did you stay?"

"Stayed up-sta--irs," sobbed Flaxie.

"In the cold? Why, darling, what made you?"

"You all went off and left me," replied Flaxie, with a little tempest of
tears.

Then auntie understood it all,--how this child, who was old enough to
know better, had been rolling a little bit of a trouble over and over,
till it had grown into a mountain and almost crushed her. And the
mother-heart in Aunt Charlotte's bosom ached for poor foolish Flaxie.

"She has added to her cold, and is feverish," thought the good lady,
sending for Nancy to bring some hot water in the tin bath-tub that was
used for washing the children.

"I shall have you sleep with me to-night, in the down-stairs room," said
Aunt Charlotte; "and I'll put a flannel round your neck, dear, and some
poultices on your feet."

Flaxie smiled faintly as she saw the dried burdock-leaves soaking in
vinegar, for she liked to have a suitable parade made over her when she
was sick. Besides, she had often thought she should enjoy sleeping in
the "down-stairs room," and was glad now that Uncle Ben happened to be
gone; that is, as glad as she could be of anything. It was a miserable,
forlorn world all of a sudden to Flaxie, and she had never known such "a
mean old night," even if it was "the night before Christmas."

The lamp burning dimly in the corner of the room, on the floor, cast
shadows that frightened her; her head ached; she woke the baby in the
crib by crying, and then he woke everybody else.

It was a "mean old night" to the whole house; and when I say the _whole_
house, I mean both halves of it. About midnight, as Mrs. Hunter was
sleeping sweetly, her door-bell rang a furious peal. Nobody likes to hear
such a sound at dead of night, and Mrs. Hunter trembled a little, for
she was all alone with her children; but she rose and dressed as fast as
possible, and went down-stairs with a lamp.

"Who is it?" she asked, through the keyhole.

"It's ME!" said a childish voice that she thought sounded like one of
the Allen children.

She ventured to open the door, and there on the steps in the darkness
stood Flaxie Frizzle, bareheaded, shivering, and looking terribly
frightened.

"Oh, Mrs. Hunter, something _orful_ has happened at our house. Oh, come
quick, Mrs. Hunter!"

"Yes, yes, dear, I'll go this minute; but what is it?" said the lady,
hurrying to the entry closet for her shawl.

"Auntie is crazy! She is running round and round with the tea-kettle."

Mrs. Hunter stood still with amazement.

"Who sent _you_ here?" said she. "Why don't they call the doctor?"

"I don't know. She's going to scald me to death, and I s'pose you know
I'm sick," whined Flaxie, sinking down on the doormat, where the light
of the lamp shone full upon her, and Mrs. Hunter saw--what she might
have seen before, if she had not been so nervous--that the little girl
wore a checked flannel nightie, and her feet were done up in poultices.

Of course she must have come away without any one's knowing it, that
cold night, with the snow falling too! It was she that was crazy,
instead of Aunt Charlotte.

"How could the child have got out of the house?" thought Mrs. Hunter.

But the question was now, how to get her back again?

"Come, Flaxie," said she, in a soothing tone, "let me wrap you up in a
shawl and take you home pickaback,--there's a good girl!"

"But I don't want auntie to scald me."

"She shan't, dear. If she has got the tea-kettle, I'll take it away from
her."

"Honest?" asked Flaxie, piteously.

But she forgot her terror as soon as she was mounted pickaback, and
thought herself the "country cousin" taking a ride on a holder.

All this while everybody in the Allen half of the house was up and
hunting for the lost child. Milly was crying bitterly; Johnny had come
in from the barn, where he had pulled the hay all over; and Uncle Ben,
who had just returned from his journey, was starting out on the street
with a lantern.

Just then Mrs. Hunter walked in, and dropped Flaxie into Aunt
Charlotte's arms, saying:

"Here, I've brought you a poor sick child."

Then there was such a commotion that Flaxie was more bewildered than
ever, and at sight of Uncle Ben she screamed wildly. It was his coming
home about ten minutes before that had frightened her, in the first
place, by waking her from a bad dream; and she had slipped out of bed,
and out of the open front door, before any one missed her.

"There! there! darling, don't cry," said Aunt Charlotte, hushing her in
her arms, while Mrs. Hunter heated a blanket.

"I've done something _orful_," said Flaxie in her auntie's ear. "I'm so
sorry; but I stole a horse and sleigh! _Don't_ tell, auntie! I put 'em
behind that door."

"Well, never mind it, dear; you didn't mean to," said Aunt Charlotte,
smiling in spite of her heavy heart. Then she turned to Uncle Ben, who
stood by, looking puzzled, and asked him in a whisper if he "didn't
think he ought to go for the doctor"?

"Oh, by all means," said Mrs. Hunter, beginning to help him on with his
overcoat.

He had hurried home in the night train, on purpose to spend Christmas
day with his family, and was really too tired to take a ride of two
miles in a snow-storm. But he was not thinking of that; he was thinking
how dreadful it was to have his dear little niece sick away from home;
and how her papa didn't like the Hilltop doctor,--and perhaps it was
best to go three miles farther to the next town after Dr. Pulsifer.

"Yes, go for Dr. Pulsifer," said Aunt Charlotte, when he asked her about
it; "and be as quick as you can."

Flaxie knew nothing of all this. Her cheeks burned, her eyes shone, and
she kept saying there were a million lions and tigers in the bed; and
where was the rat-trap?

"Do bring the rat-trap!" said she, plunging about in a fright. "Oh, you
don't hear, do you? There's a woman out in the other room eating
peas,--eating, and eating, and eating. Why don't you stop her? Oh, you
don't hear! Johnny Allen, run for a sponge and vinegar, and put it in
auntie's ears, so she can hear!"

Milly laughed at these strange speeches till she heard Nancy say to Mrs.
Hunter, "Crazy as a loon, ain't she? I'm afraid it's water on the
brain."

Then Milly, who did not understand Nancy's meaning, but was appalled by
the tone, ran into the pantry, and cried behind the flour-barrel.

"If Flaxie Frizzle dies, I want to die too! She's the only twin cousin
I've got in the world."

In a short time, considering how far he had ridden, Uncle Ben came home,
but without Dr. Pulsifer, who had gone away, and could not be there
before to-morrow noon.

"I'm so disappointed," said Aunt Charlotte, looking pale and ill enough
herself to be in bed. "But the poor little thing is asleep now, and
perhaps she isn't so very sick after all. Do tell me if you think
there's any danger of brain-fever?"

"Well, I think this," replied Uncle Ben, leaning over the bed and taking
a long look at the little patient; "_I_ don't know what ails her! It may
be diphtheria, and then again it may be common sore throat; but if she
isn't better in the morning, we'll telegraph to her father, for a child
that can turn yellow and pea-green, as she did last spring, is capable
of almost anything."

"That is true," said Aunt Charlotte; "one never knows what she is going
to do next." And then she looked at Flaxie, and sighed. It was
wonderful what a power she had of keeping her friends in a worry, this
little pink and white slip of a girl! Once she had fallen into a brook,
and once into a well, beside falling sick times without number. Uncle
Ben and Aunt Charlotte knew all this, but they did not happen to know
that it was a very common thing for Flaxie to be crazy! It was just so
with her brother Preston and her sister Ninny; they seldom had any
little ailment like a bad cold without "going out of their heads," and
nobody in the family minded it at all.

If Flaxie's mother had been at Hilltop, she would have sent Uncle Ben
and Aunt Charlotte to bed; but as she was not there, and they didn't
know any better, they sat up all night watching their queer little
niece.

Rather a sorry "Christmas eve" all around the house,--but a beautiful
Christmas morning, and not a cloud in the sky. Flaxie woke as gay as a
bird, without the least recollection of the horrors she had suffered in
the night from tigers and tea-kettles.

"Wish you merry Christmas!" cried she to pale Aunt Charlotte, and sprang
out of bed with poultices on her feet to go after her Christmas
stocking.

"Well, is this the little girl they thought was so sick," said Dr.
Pulsifer, when he arrived at noon, and found her and Milly lying on the
rug, with a pair of twin dolls between them dressed just alike, and each
with a fur cap on its head.

He felt Flaxie's pulse and looked at her tongue, and said he "shouldn't
waste any of his nice medicine on _her_."

"But my cold isn't good at all, now honest; and my throat's a little
sore--I guess," said Flaxie, drawing a long face, and feeling rather
ashamed not to be sick now, when the doctor had been sent for on
purpose!

"Never mind! If you don't need me, your aunt does. What do you think of
yourself, you little piece of mischief, running away in the night, and
frightening people so that they are sick abed Christmas day?"

All Flaxie's good time was over in a minute. _Was_ auntie sick abed
up-stairs? Was that why Flaxie hadn't seen her since morning?

"Oh, mayn't I go look at her?" said she, after the doctor had left. And
Uncle Ben consented, thinking she wouldn't stay a minute.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I do love you dearly," cried penitent Flaxie,
climbing upon the bed and cuddling close to the white auntie. "_Did_ I
make you sick? I didn't mean to; and I don't 'member anything about the
tea-kettle."

"There, there, dear, don't cry."

"I oughtn't to stayed up-stairs yesterday in the cold," went on Flaxie,
determined to free her mind. "That was the wickedest thing! But you were
just as good as you could be, if you _did_ trim the church; and I'll
never do so again!"

"Oh, hush, dear; you shake the bed."

"I'm real bad in here, in my s-o-ul!" wailed Flaxie, squeezing her
eyelids together tight, and laying her hand on her stomach. "Why don't
God make me beautiful inside o' my soul?"

"Ask Him, dear child!"

"Will He?" said Flaxie, earnestly. "Oh, yes, I know;" and her eager face
fell. "But He'll have to make me homely to do it, just like Miss Pike."

"Oh, no, my darling."

"Won't He? See what a orful cole-sore I've got on my mouth. If it would
stay there, and stick on always, do you s'pose I'd grow good?" asked
Flaxie, thoughtfully.

Aunt Charlotte almost smiled.

"'Cause I'm willing to be a little homely,--now truly--if I can have a
nice so-o-ul," added the child, with a true and deep feeling of her own
naughtiness that I am sure the angels must have been glad to see.

But she was shaking the bed again, and Uncle Ben drew her gently away,
and took her down stairs in his arms to finish the rest of her "crazy
Christmas."




CHAPTER IX.

MILLY VISITING.


Winter passed, spring came, and April was half over before the twin
cousins met again. Then it was Milly's turn to go to Laurel Grove to see
Flaxie. She had written a postal-card slowly, and with great pains, to
say "she should be there to-morrow if it was pleasant."

But how it did rain! It had rained for two days as if the sky meant to
pour itself away in tears; but on Wednesday the sun came rushing through
the clouds, his face all aglow with smiles, and put an end to such
dismal business. The rain ceased, the clouds scampered away and hid
themselves, and the sky cleared up as bright as if nothing had ever been
the matter.

Sweet little Milly looked out of the window, heard the birds sing, and
whispered in her heart:

"Oh, how kind God is to give me a good day to go to Laurel Grove!"

She didn't own a pretty valise of brown canvas with leather straps like
Flaxie's. All in the world she had was an old bandbox trunk that
belonged to her mother, and she took no care of that, for Milly never
"travelled alone."

"Well, little sobersides," said her father, putting the check in his
pocket, the ticket in his hat, and opening a car-window before he sat
down beside Milly. "Well, little sobersides, are you glad you're going
visiting?"

"Yes, sir," said she, her eyes shining. She didn't laugh and clap her
hands quite as much as Flaxie did, but you always knew when she was
happy by the glad look in her eyes.

"I hope you two little folks won't get into too much mischief at Laurel
Grove. Are you going to school?"

"Yes, sir; and oh, it's such an elegant schoolhouse!"

"Well, don't set it on fire."

Milly blushed.

"But the teacher isn't half so nice as Miss Pike."

The dear little girl had not been at Laurel Grove for a long while, but
all the people in town seemed to remember her,--Mr. Lane the minister,
Mr. Snow the postmaster, and everybody they met in the street. Her
father noticed how they smiled upon her, as if they loved her, and it
made his heart glad.

Preston drove his uncle and cousin home from the depot, but he almost
ran into a lumber-wagon, and Mr. Allen thought he was too young a boy to
be trusted with such a fiery horse as Whiz. Flaxie sat with him on the
front seat of the carriage, dancing up and down, and turning around to
say to Milly:

"Oh, I'm so happy I can't keep still." She looked like a bluebird, in
her blue dress and sash, with a white chip bonnet, blue ribbon and blue
feather, and Milly thought there was not another such girl in the world.

It was a charming place at Dr. Gray's, and the house was full of
beautiful things, such as Milly did not see at her own home; but that
never made her discontented or unhappy. If God gave Flaxie prettier
things than He gave her, it was because He thought best to do so, and
that was enough for Milly.

"O Aunt Emily, _are_ you glad to see me?" said she, as Mrs. Gray kissed
her over and over again.

"Yes, I'm just as glad as I can be, and I wish you were my own little
girl," said Mrs. Gray, who had five children already.

The "little bit-of-est" one was a year old now, and didn't know Milly at
all, but Phil know her and prattled away to her so fast that nobody else
could be heard.

That afternoon she and Flaxie were in the stable, feeding Whiz with
lumps of sugar, while the dog, Tantra Bogus, capered about them, giving
their cheeks a "thou-sand" kisses with his long, loving tongue.

"Stop, Tantra Bogus; now we'll have to go and wash our faces," said
Flaxie.

As they entered the kitchen by the outside door they met Mrs. Gray
standing there talking to Preston.

"Here is a cup of jelly," said she, "and I'd like to have you take it to
Sammy Proudfit."

This was Wednesday afternoon, and Preston was starting to go about half
a mile up town to recite an extra lesson to his teacher, Mr. Garland.

"Oh, you're coming too, are you?" said he, looking around at Flaxie and
Milly, who were skipping along behind him, drawing a handsome doll's
carriage.

"Yes, we are going up on the bank to play with Blanche Jones and Fanny
Townsend: mamma said we might," replied Flaxie, dancing.

Preston was very glad of the company of two such happy little girls,
only he forgot to say so.

"And we've built a house of birch bark under the trees. But it hasn't
any stove-pipe!" said Flaxie, who had never forgotten that unfortunate
house that Jack built.

"And we're going to have a doll's party in it," remarked Milly.

"Oh, no, not a party, it's a _reception_," corrected Flaxie; "that's
what Fanny Townsend says they call 'em in Washington. My biggest dolly,
Christie Gretchen, is going to receive. Oh, you don't know how
beautifully she's dressed! And all the other dollies are coming to call
on her, with the cunningest little cards in their pockets."

"Oh, do your dollies play cards?"

"No, indeed; it's _visiting_ cards,--don't you know?--with their names
printed on them, just like ladies. Ninny did that."

As they chattered in this way they were drawing near the Proudfit house,
which stood at the foot of the hill, and little Milly sang,

    "There was an old woman lived under the hill;"

Preston sang to the same tune:

    "And she had a little boy who was not very ill,
    And he went to bed, and he lies there still."

"Why, Preston Gray, did you make that all up yourself?" cried Flaxie,
amazed at his genius.

But there was no time for more poetry, even if Preston had been able to
make it, for they were standing now at the door. It was an old,
tumble-down house. The children called it black, and in fact it was a
sort of slate-color, though it had never been painted at all, except by
the sun, wind, and rain. In the road before it three dirty children were
poking sand, and they looked so shabby that Milly whispered:

"I shouldn't think they'd be called _Proudfits_: they don't look very
proud!"

"No," replied Preston, trying to be witty, "the name doesn't _fit_."

Mrs. Proudfit was changing Sammy's pillow-cases when she heard the
children knock, and came to the door with a pillow between her teeth.
She was "proper glad of the jelly," as Preston thought she ought to be.

There was a smell of hot gingerbread in the air, which reminded Flaxie
of the time ever so long ago, when she had taken supper in that house
without leave; and there was Patty at the window this minute making
faces. It is strange how things change to you as you grow older! Flaxie
never cared to visit at that house now, for Patty wasn't a nice little
girl at all; she not only teased away your playthings, but told wrong
stories.

"Our baby's two months old, and he's got two teeth!" cried she, as
Flaxie turned away; but nobody believed her.

The twin cousins and their little friends had a gay time that afternoon
on the bank, and Christie Gretchen "received" with great dignity; but I
have no time to talk of that now, I want to tell you something about
Preston.

When they reached Mr. Garland's house, the little girls left him, and he
walked up the gravel path to Mr. Garland's front door and rang the bell
with a sober face.

"I don't believe I can say my lesson, and Mr. Garland will think I'm a
dunce," said he to himself, with a quivering lip.

Now Preston Gray was remarkably handsome, and one of the dearest boys
that ever lived, but not a great scholar. He could whittle chairs and
sofas and churns for Flaxie with a jackknife, and I don't know how many
ships and steam-engines he had made; but he did not learn his lessons
very well.

To-day, after the recitation was over, Mr. Garland walked with him
along the bank of the river.

"Preston, my fine little fellow," said he, kindly, "I can't bear to
scold a boy I love so dearly; but I've been afraid for some time that
you don't study this term as hard as usual; what's the matter?"

Tears sprang to Preston's eyes, but he brushed them off and pretended to
be looking the other way.

"Now, seriously, what _do_ you suppose boys were made for?" went on Mr.
Garland, without the least idea Preston was crying; "you don't suppose
they were made on purpose to play and have a good time?"

"I don' know, sir," replied Preston, clearing his throat, and trying to
laugh; "perhaps they were made to play a good deal, you know, because
they can't play when they grow to be men."

"Ah, Preston, Preston, I am not joking with you at all. If you were a
small child like your sister Flaxie it would not matter so much whether
you studied or not, but your father expects a great deal of his oldest
son, and it grieves me to have to say to him--"

"Oh, don't, don't," wailed poor little Preston, "I'll do anything in the
world if you won't talk to my father; I'll take my books home,
I'll--I'll--"

"There, there, never mind it," said soft-hearted Mr. Garland, moved by
the boy's distress, "if you really mean to do better--Why, look out,
child, you'd have fallen over that stump if I hadn't pulled you back.
Where in the world were your eyes?"

"I was looking at that big woman across the street," stammered Preston;
"how funny she walks!"

"Woman? What woman? Why, that's a boy with a wheelbarrow," exclaimed
Mr. Garland, in great surprise.

Preston blushed with all his might and dropped his chin.

"Please, don't tell anybody I took a wheelbarrow for a woman! They'd
laugh at me. Of course I knew better as soon as I came to think."

Mr. Garland stopped suddenly and stared at Preston.

"Look up here into my face, my boy."

Preston raised his beautiful brown eyes,--those _good_ eyes, which won
everybody's love and trust; and his teacher gazed at them earnestly.

But Mr. Garland was not admiring their beauty or their gentle
expression. He saw something else in Preston's eyes which startled him
and gave him a pang. Not tears, for those had been dashed away, but a
sort of thin mist lay over them, like that which veils the sun in cloudy
weather.

"Can it be possible? Why, Preston, why, Preston, my boy," said Mr.
Garland, taking the young face gently between his hands, "when did
things begin to blur so and look dim to you?"

Preston did not answer.

"Tell me; don't be afraid."

"It's been," replied Preston, choking, "it's been a long while. The sun
isn't so bright somehow as it was; and oh, Mr. Garland, the print in my
books isn't so black as it used to be! But I didn't want to make a fuss
about it, and have father know it."

"Why not?"

"Oh, he'd give me medicine, I suppose."

"My boy, my poor boy, you ought to have told him."

"Do you think so? Well, I hoped I'd get better, you know."

"Preston, is this the reason you don't learn your lessons any better?"

"I don't know. Yes, sir, I think so. I can't read the words in my books
very well."

"You poor, blessed child! Growing blind," thought Mr. Garland; but did
not say the words aloud.

"And I have to sit in the sun to see."

"I wish I had known this before, and I wouldn't have complained when you
had bad lessons. Why didn't you tell me, you patient soul!"

"Oh, I don't know, sir; you didn't ask me."

"Good night," said Mr. Garland, in an unsteady voice. "And don't you
study to-morrow one word. You may sit and draw pictures all day long if
you like."

Preston smiled. He did not know what made his dear teacher say this,
and place his hand on his shoulder so tenderly; but he was glad of it,
very glad; for now it was certain that Mr. Garland would not blame him
any more; and he ran home with a light heart.




CHAPTER X.

BLACKDROP.


"Oh, we had such an elegant time up there on the bank! only the boys
came and plagued us," cried Flaxie, bursting into the house, followed by
Milly.

She said it to her papa, but he did not appear to listen. He sat holding
Preston on his knee, and looking at him sadly.

Then Flaxie turned to her mother.

"Why, mamma, Willy Patten threw kisses to me when he was a boy, and
wasn't my cousin!"

But Mrs. Gray did not listen either. She too was looking at Preston. Mr.
Garland had just been at the house talking with them about the dear
child's eyes, and she and Dr. Papa were heavy at heart. Flaxie did not
know of this, but she felt vaguely that something was wrong.

Milly felt it too, and almost wished she had gone home with her father
in the afternoon train.

"What has mamma been crying about?" thought Julia. "I'm afraid Preston
has been a naughty boy, for she and papa have looked very sober ever
since Mr. Garland was here."

Preston himself understood the case a little better, and was saying to
himself: "I guess there's something awful the matter with my eyes, or
father wouldn't have told Mr. Garland he should take me to New York."

There were cold turkey, and pop-overs, and honey for supper, but it
wasn't a pleasant meal; there was no chatting and laughing; and Dr.
Papa hurried away from the table as soon as possible to go to see a sick
lady up town.

It was some time before the children were told the dreadful news that
Preston was losing his sight. They wondered the next week why he should
be allowed to stay out of school and play, and why his father, who was
always kind to him, should be so very gentle now, almost as gentle as he
was to little Phil.

One day Dr. Gray took Preston to New York to see an oculist. An oculist
is a physician who treats diseases of the eye.

When Dr. A. called Preston up to him, and looked at the beautiful eyes
over which a veil was slowly stealing, he shook his head.

Poor little Preston! Not twelve years old, yet growing blind like an old
man of ninety!

"But after he is blind, we can help him," said Dr. A., stroking the
boy's white forehead. "When that dreadful veil, which is stealing over
his eyes, has grown thick enough, then we can take it off, and he can
see. But it is not thick enough yet. He must go home and wait."

Dr. Gray was not at all surprised by this. He had known all the while
that Preston's eyes must grow worse before they could be made better.
But how long the boy must wait, the oculist could not say; some months,
at any rate, and perhaps a year.

It was a sorrowful time for the whole family when Dr. Gray took Preston
home with him that night and told the story. Julia put her arms around
her dear brother as if she wanted to hold him safe from this trial.
Loving Julia! if darkness was coming upon him, _she_ would surely be, as
Uncle Ben had said:

     "Like a little candle burning in the night."

And what would Flaxie be? I am afraid Preston did not expect much of
Flaxie, she was such a flyaway child.

She cried bitterly now, and said:

"Oh, I wish 'twas _my_ eyes, 'cause I'm a naughty little girl; but
Preston is splendid!"

Milly didn't say a word, she only laid her soft cheek against Preston's
hand to let him know she pitied him.

"There, there, don't feel so bad, all of you," said he, holding up his
head grandly. "I can bear it, you see if I can't."

How they all loved him for that! And he did bear it nobly and patiently,
and the whole family helped him. That is one comfort of having a father
and mother, and brothers and sisters; they always do help you bear your
troubles.

"Let's read to him," said Milly to Flaxie. So they read,--first one of
them, and then the other,--whenever he wished. This would have been very
pleasant if he had liked "nice books" such as little girls enjoy; but
no, he chose stories of lion-tamers, and sea-serpents, and wild,
dreadful Indians.

"Isn't it just awful?" said Flaxie to Milly; but they read away like
young martyrs.

On the whole, as the family was so large, and every member of it so
kind, Preston had a very good time, and seldom thought of his eyes.

One day the twin cousins were in the shade of the apple-blossoms, in
what was called the "orchard garden," driving a carriage full of dolls
to a "wedding picnic." Flaxie's dolls led a very gay life, and perhaps
that was one reason they all faded so young.

Just as "Christie Gretchen" was alighting from the carriage, assisted
by her young husband, "Dr. Preston Smith," and just as Milly had
sweetened the lemonade exactly to the bride's taste, and was cutting the
cake, there was a quick call from Preston.

"Girls, girls, come here?"

"Oh, dear," said Flaxie to Milly, "when the picnic is beginning so
beautifully!"

But then they both remembered that Preston was growing blind and they
must be kind to him; therefore Flaxie dropped Dr. Smith, and Milly
dropped the cake, and they ran along to the stable.

Before they reached it, however, they had forgotten all about the
picnic, for right in the stable-door stood a shaggy mustang pony,
harnessed to a basket-phaeton; and in the phaeton sat Preston holding
the reins, while Dr. Papa, mamma, and Julia stood looking on and
smiling.

"Oh, I never did see anything so cunning," cried Flaxie, forgetting she
had seen several just such ponies when she went to the seaside with Mrs.
Prim.

"Whoa! Jump in, both of you," said Preston, turning the phaeton half
round. His face was all aglow with delight.

"Yes, jump in," said Dr. Papa and mamma.

"It's Preston's pony," cried Julia, who had kept the secret for a whole
day and night, till it "seemed as if she should fly."

The way that gentle little beast walked out of the yard, the way he
trotted after he turned into the road! I really cannot give a proper
account of it myself; it needs a little girl about Flaxie's age to
describe a pony.

"Oh, he's a darling, a beauty, the sweetest little thing, not half as
big as Whiz! Why, Preston, aren't you just as happy? Is it your
carriage? Where's the whip? Oh, the silver reins! Didn't they cost a
_thou_-sand dollars? What do you call the pony? May I drive?"

[Illustration: THE WEDDING PICNIC. Page 160.]

"Yes, by and by, when my eyes grow so bad that I can't see," replied
Preston, a little sadly in spite of his joy; "but father says I may
drive now."

Flaxie had reached out for the reins, but Milly pinched her,--one of
those sly pinches that both the cousins understood,--and she folded her
little hands to keep them still. She did want to drive this very minute,
but she wouldn't plague Preston.

"Who is going to take care of your pony?" she asked.

They had a boy, Henry Mann, who took care of Whiz and Hiawatha.

"I shall attend to my pony myself," replied Preston, driving off at high
speed.

"Well, you must give him a quart of _granary_ as quick as we get home,"
said Miss Frizzle, looking wondrous wise; "Johnny Townsend feeds his
pony with granary--a whole quart."

Preston laughed and chirrupped. He was "just as happy," there was no
doubt about that.

"I guess I'll call him Blackdrop, wouldn't you, though?"

The little girls thought it was a queer name, but they said:

"Oh, yes, if you want to call him Blackdrop, I would."

"It won't do any hurt," added Flaxie encouragingly.

I wish Blackdrop could have known how happy he made the whole family.
Milly didn't say much, but her eyes shone as she patted his neck, Julia
sang every time she saw him, Phil "hugged him grizzly," and Grandma
Gray who was very timid about horses, said she wasn't any more afraid of
him than if he had been a Newfoundland dog.

It was the funniest thing, but really and truly, before many days that
dear old lady used to step into the pony carriage and let little Flaxie
drive her all around the town! Everybody nodded and smiled as the couple
passed by, and said it was "the cunningest sight," for grandma wasn't so
very much bigger than Flaxie, and they looked like two little girls
riding out, only grandma's hair was silver-white, and Flaxie's spun
gold.

Through the whole summer Preston's eyes grew worse and worse. It was all
twilight to him now, or, as somebody calls it, "the edge of the dark."
He still took care of Blackdrop, by the help of Henry, but he could not
ride out unless somebody else held the reins.

"But then this sort of thing won't last always," said he to his
particular friend, Bert Abbott. "Just wait a year or two, sir, and I
shall be as good as anybody."




CHAPTER XI.

FLAXIE A COMFORT.


The days went on, and still Preston's eyes were not "ready." Winter
came, then spring, and Milly paid another visit to Laurel Grove. She was
one of those quiet, happy little girls, who make hardly any more noise
than a sunbeam; but everybody likes to see a sunbeam, and everybody was
glad to see Milly.

She was even more welcome than usual at Laurel Grove just now, for by
this time Preston's eyes were "ready," and his father was about taking
him to New York.

There were four grown people left in the house, and five children beside
Milly; still it seemed lonesome, for everybody was thinking about
Preston, and wondering if the doctor would hurt him very much.

"He can't see _what_ the doctor is doing to him," said Flaxie to Milly;
"I shouldn't think God would let my brother be blind, my _good_ brother
Preston!"

"God knows what is best," replied Milly, meekly.

"Yes, but, oh dear, I feel so bad! Let's go out in the kitchen and see
what Dodo is doing."

Grandma, mamma, and Julia looked sadder than ever to hear Flaxie talk in
this way and run out of the parlor crying.

Dora stood by the kitchen-table ironing very cheerfully.

"Dodo," said Flaxie, "what shall we do to have a good time?"

"Such a funny child as you are, Miss Flaxie," said the girl, trying
another flatiron; "haven't you everything to your mind, and haven't you
always had ever since you were born?"

"No, indeed, Dodo," said Flaxie, mournfully, breaking off a corner from
a sheet of sponge-cake which stood cooling in the window; "_I_ don't
want my brother to be blind."

"Well, but you can't help it, though. So you'd better not go round the
house, moping in this way and worrying your mother," returned Dora,
making a quick plunge with her flatiron into the folds of a calico
dress.

Worrying her mother! Flaxie had not thought of that. She supposed she
was showing very kind and tender feelings when she cried about Preston.

"Let's go back to the parlor," said Milly; "perhaps Aunt Emily will feel
better if we talk and laugh and play with the baby."

"That's the nicest little thing I ever saw," thought Dora, gazing after
Milly; "she don't fret about her own feelings, but tries to make other
folks happy."

This was very true, but you mustn't suppose that Flaxie didn't also try
to make other people happy. She did whenever she could think of it. She
was really learning lessons in unselfishness every day; and how could
she help it when everybody in the house set her such a good example?

She and Milly went back to the parlor now, and talked to grandma about
their western cousins, Pollio and Posy Pitcher; and then they made
little Phil eat apples like a squirrel,--a very funny performance. After
that they told him to go into the middle of the room, make a bow, and
"speak his piece." That was funny too, and Ethel joined in on a high
key:

    "Poor little fish, I know you wish
      To live as well as I;
    I will not hook you from the brook,
      Or even wish to try.

    "And you, old frog, behind the log,
      I will not stop your song;
    Your great round eyes may watch the flies,
      I will not do you wrong."

Mrs. Gray and grandma did not know this exhibition was called for on
purpose to amuse them, but they laughed heartily, and felt the better
for it; and so did Flaxie and Milly. Wasn't it much better than sitting
in silence and thinking about Preston, when they couldn't help him at
all?

You may know it was a very sad day for the poor boy. When he found
himself in the "awful chair," his heart failed him and he sprang out of
it.

"No, no, he never could have his eyes cut with little daggers. Even if
they did give him ether, he couldn't; Papa must take him right home
again. It was of no use!"

It was pitiful to see Preston's struggles with himself, and the still
greater struggles of the father, who tried to hide his feelings for his
boy's sake.

"Wait till to-morrow," said Preston; "just wait, and I _will_!"

So they waited.

All the afternoon Preston's heart kept sinking down, down, like a
plummet let into the sea, and his father's heart sank with it, for a
child cannot feel a sorrow that does not touch his parent too.

But it chanced in the night, as Preston lay awake, that he fell to
thinking how his father loved him.

"He would do anything in this world for me. He'd take his eyes right out
and give them to me if he could."

And then Preston wondered if it were really true that God loved him
better yet?

Oh, yes, loved him so that he would never, never let anything really bad
happen to his little boy.

"So this isn't really bad," thought he, clapping his hands softly under
the coverlet; "it seems awful, but it isn't. God sent it, and I can bear
it--yes, for his sake and father's sake!"

    "Surely what He wills is best,
    Happy in His will I rest,"

repeated Preston, and went quietly to sleep "like closing flowers at
night."

Dr. Gray was joyfully surprised at his bright looks next morning.

"Smile up your face, Dr. Papa," said he, playfully. This was what Flaxie
used to say in her baby days, when they didn't call her Flaxie Frizzle,
but Pinky Pearly. "Smile up your face, Dr. Papa, and see what Preston
Gray can do."

The horror was over then for Dr. Gray; his son was going to behave like
a man.

He did not know when he saw Preston take his seat so calmly in that
"awful chair," that he was strong because he felt God's arms about him.

But when Preston left that chair, the trouble was not all over. He could
not bear any light yet, so he had to go home a few days afterwards with
a bandage over his eyes, and stay in a dark room for many weeks.

But didn't they make the room pleasant for him? Didn't they treat him
like a prince? Didn't Bert Abbott and the other boys go up and down on
that stair-carpet till they nearly wore it out?

Of course Julia was good to the young prisoner; you would have expected
that. Flaxie was good too. She seemed at this time to have forgotten all
her little fretful, troublesome ways, and was always willing to stay in
Preston's chamber, and tell him everything that happened in the house or
out of it; just how the pony looked and acted, and how he coughed a
little dot of a mouse out of his nose, supposed to have run up his
nostril when he was eating his "granary." Flaxie could be very
interesting when she chose, and Preston's face began to light up at the
sound of her little feet on the stairs.

She had never loved her brother so well as she did now that she had
become useful to him, and it made her very happy to hear Preston tell
his mother that "Flaxie grew better and better; she was almost as good
now as Julia."

Milly had gone home, but she came back again in June. You see that the
twin cousins were not very particular about taking turns in their
visits, but went and came just as their two mothers found it most
convenient.

By this time Preston could venture out of doors on a dark day or in the
evening; but I am sorry to say he was obliged to wear spectacles. This
amused the little ones, Phil and Ethel, but Flaxie was very sorry.

"I do pity those spectacles," said she to Milly in a low voice, as they
walked under the apple-trees with their arms around each other's waist.

"Oh, well," returned Milly brightly, "he won't have to wear them
always."

"Yes, he will. He said he was afraid the boys would laugh when they saw
him, but they didn't. Some of them cried though; I saw Bert Abbott
wiping his eyes."

After a while, the little girls, and indeed all Preston's friends,
became so accustomed to seeing him in glasses that they did not mind it
all. He could see perfectly well, and was as happy as ever; so it didn't
seem worth while to "pity his spectacles."

And now I must tell you one thing more about this dear boy, and then my
story will be done.




CHAPTER XII.

BRAVE PRESTON GRAY.


"Never saw such folks for jelly; they eat it by the quart. Wish I could
be sick once in a while, and get some myself," muttered Preston, as he
settled his school-book under his arm, and took the cup his mother had
brought to the door.

It was Jimmy Proudfit who was sick now, and Mrs. Gray was in the habit
of sending him little dainties by Preston, who often grumbled about it,
and said he was "tired of the whole Proudfit family." Mrs. Gray never
took any notice of these unfeeling remarks, knowing they meant nothing,
for Preston was an extremely kind-hearted boy. He had a few faults, of
course, and one of them was a strong dislike for doing errands. He was
on his way now to recite a Latin lesson to his kind teacher, Mr.
Garland; and, as usual, the twin cousins were close at his heels,
skipping and dancing, for they never could walk when they felt truly
gay.

"Where are you going?" asked Preston, looking back through his
spectacles.

"Going up on the bank to play 'Uncle Tom.' Blanche Jones and Fanny
Townsend and everybody else is going, and 'twill be just splendid,"
replied Flaxie, as Preston walked up to Mrs. Proudfit's door to deliver
the jelly.

There were four children playing in the sand this time, and one of them
was Patty. The twin cousins thought they would go by them without
turning their heads, but Patty called out, "Where are you running to in
such a hurry?"

"Oh, we're going up to play on the bank there somewhere," replied
Flaxie, trying to shake off the baby, who had been eating candy and was
pulling at her frock with his sticky fingers.

"Up on the bank? Well, I'm agoin' too," said that black-eyed,
disagreeable Patty.

And without waiting to see whether she was wanted or not, she followed
along with her two dirty sisters; and behind them toddled the baby!

Preston marched on in front, looking very much amused; but Flaxie's face
was quite red. She pinched Milly's arm, and then Milly pinched hers. It
was a strange way to go to a party--_the_ party of the season; and
Flaxie had a great mind to run home; only her mother had charged her
again and again not to be rude; so she said in a very calm, polite
manner:

"Patty, don't you think 'twould be a good plan for you to go in the
house and see Jimmy? He's sick."

Patty only laughed, and the four children scuffled along just the same
behind Flaxie and Milly, making the dirt fly with their bare toes.

Oh, it was all very well for Preston to whistle! It didn't trouble
_him_, of course, for _he_ wasn't going to the party! He stopped in a
few minutes at Mr. Garland's beautiful brown house with the green vines
around it, and made a low bow as he said "Good-bye."

Flaxie scowled. What would Fanny Townsend and Blanche Jones and all the
other nice girls say to see her bringing along such a train of dirty
gypsies? She and Milly kept close together, never turning their heads
till they came to the place "on the bank up there somewhere," where they
were to have the party.

Fanny and Blanche, and nearly everybody else, had arrived already, in
clean frocks, with faces just washed; and, dear! dear! who wanted those
Proudfits? But the little girls in Laurel Grove were for the most part
very well-bred, so they said, "How do you do, Patty?" and "How do you
do, Gretty?" and "How do you do, Baby?" just as if they had expected the
whole family; though it was really a picnic party, and nobody had a
right to come to it without an invitation. Patty kept close beside
Flaxie; but Bubby, the fourteen months' old baby, made himself generally
disagreeable by wiping the candy and sand off his hands upon the little
girls' skirts.

"Let's play something," said Flaxie nervously.

It was a beautiful place to play. There were trees for hide-and-seek,
flat spots for croquet, and little hills and hollows for everything
else. The village children used this for a sort of park, and the river
seemed to look on and laugh to see them so gay. It was a very sober,
steady river above and below, but right here it went leaping and
tumbling over some rocks, making a merry cascade,--just for fun, you
would think. The children liked to skip stones and see them spin up and
down in the foam; but they had been warned not to go too near the bank.
Nobody had ever fallen in yet, but it wasn't a safe place for very
little folks, certainly not for roly-poly babies like Bubby Proudfit. He
was very clumsy, falling down, rolling over, and picking himself up
again every five minutes. Patty meant to watch him, but he was not very
interesting, and the little girls quite bewitched her with their kind
smiles and pretty ways.

Flaxie Frizzle was one of the youngest, but led off in most of the
games. She was little Eva, and died on a bed of grass "elegantly," while
everybody else groaned and howled, especially poor Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom
was Milly, in a black mask of Preston's, which had been played with till
it was cracked in fifty places, and made Uncle Tom look about two
hundred years old.

Then they had the "Old Woman in the Shoe," and Flaxie was a fierce and
cruel mother, whipping her children so "soundly" that you could hear
them scream half a mile off.

Patty thought all this was beautiful, and a longing look came into her
bold black eyes, as she gazed at the old woman.

"Oh, if _I_ could wear red stockings, with flowers on them, like Flaxie!
If _I_ could be a doctor's little girl, and live in a house with blinds
and trees and flowers, and have a cousin come to see _me_!"

It wasn't strange that Patty should feel like this, and want to cover up
her bare feet in the grass; but in admiring Flaxie she forgot entirely
to watch Bubby, and that was a great mistake. _He_ didn't care, he never
liked to be watched; it was fine fun to see the whole world before him
and go just where he chose. Didn't the trees and grass and flowers all
belong to him! To be sure they did, and he meant to carry some of them
home. But while he was trudging about, and making up his little mind
where he would begin to pull, he espied the river sparkling in the sun,
and that was finest of all. "Pitty, pitty!" cried he, and thought he
would carry the river home too. How nice it would be to splash in! He
fairly shouted at the idea, for having never seen a bath-tub, he hadn't
learned to be afraid of soap and water. "Pitty, pitty!" said he,
toddling down with outstretched hands toward the dashing, dancing,
merry, white cascade; while the children, running away from the terrible
old woman, and trying to see which could scream loudest, never saw or
heard him at all.

Ah, baby, foolish baby, do you think you can seize that bright river and
carry it home? No, it is the bright river that is going to seize _you_,
unless somebody stops your little feet before they get to the brink!

About this time Preston Gray had finished reciting his lesson. It was
not a very good one, though his teacher found no fault whatever; and now
instead of going home, Preston strolled along toward the "Children's
Park," thinking how strange it was that little girls should scream so
much louder than boys at their games.

"Flaxie is a gay one," said he, as he saw her chasing her children with
a white birch switch; but at that moment he saw something else that made
his heart stand still. The Proudfit baby was scrambling down the bank,
just above the falls!

Preston called out, but it was of no use; there was not a man to be
seen, and if there had been twenty men they could have heard nothing,
while the little girls were making such a noise. He ran with all his
might, but by the time he reached the bank, the baby had tumbled
headlong into the river!

What was to be done? Preston was only a little boy himself, let me tell
you, and though he had learned to swim, the current was strong right
here, and there was great danger of his being carried over the falls.

What would _you_ have done, my little reader? Perhaps you would have
stopped to think a good many times, saying to yourself:

"Oh, I don't dare, I don't dare!"

And then, ah, _then_, it might have been too late!

Preston was called a slow boy, but he didn't stop to think once; he did
his thinking while he was pulling off his shoes.

"I must do it!" that was all he thought. And then he dashed in.

Bubby was in deep water already, and his struggles were carrying him
down stream. Preston seized him by his calico frock, and tried to drag
him toward the bank; but that dreadful baby had always had a habit of
nipping at everything like a snapping-turtle, and now he caught
Preston's throat between his thumb and forefinger, half strangling him.
And, oh, the current was so swift!

For a moment it was life or death with both of them; but Preston managed
to unclasp the tiny hand, hold it down, and land the poor little fellow
safe at last.

"God helped me--I knew he would!" thought brave Preston Gray, as he drew
his first long breath on the bank.

Of course all the little girls had gathered around him, screaming in
chorus, and it was a noisy procession that followed the weeping Patty
down the street, with the dripping baby in her arms.

"'Twas my brother that saved him, 'twas my brother Preston!" cried
Flaxie to everybody they met. "He jumped into the river and pulled out
the baby!"

That wasn't the end of it. There was another procession in the evening,
and this one stopped at Dr. Gray's gate. It was the Brass Band, out in
uniform; but Preston hadn't the least idea what for, till the men paused
at the end of a tune, swung their caps, and gave "Three cheers for
Master Preston Gray!"

Even then he didn't understand. He hid behind his father and thought he
_should_ like to know what his mother was crying about.

"Hurrah!" said the leader again, Major Patten, swinging his tall fur
cap, which was the pride of the whole company; "hurrah for the boy that
risked his life to save a drowning baby!"

"Oh, is that it? Anybody'd have done that!" thought little Preston,
hiding again. He was a modest boy; but his sister Flaxie, you know, was
quite too bold.

"Why don't he come out?" whispered she, pulling at his sleeve.

"Hush, let him alone," said Dr. Gray, with tears in his eyes.

And then he raised the noble boy in his arms, so the men could see him,
for that was what they wanted. But still Preston hid his face. His heart
was full, and he _couldn't_ look up when those people were praising him
so.

By this time there were lamps lighted in every window of Dr. Gray's
house, and even in the trees; and though the moon was shining her best,
Major Patten, with the wonderful fur cap, asked Preston to stand beside
him and hold a lamp, that he might see to read his music.

Preston stood there with the light shining on his pure, good face; and
then the men played, "See the Conquering Hero comes," the
"Marsellaise," and a dozen other tunes, while their uniforms made such a
dazzle of red and gold that Flaxie could not help dancing about like a
wild thing for joy.

It was not so with thoughtful Milly. She snuggled down on the piazza
beside Julia, and looked on quietly.

"I'm glad Preston was so good," thought she; "perhaps he wouldn't have
been so very good if he hadn't had those blind eyes and spectacles. How
God must love him! Papa says Julia is like a little candle, and I'm sure
Preston is like a candle too. Why, where _is_ Flaxie going now?"

Flaxie was flying down the hill after Henry, the stable-boy. She had
heard her papa tell him to go to Mr. Springer's for some ice-cream, and
she wanted to say: "Get it pink, Henry; get the pinkest ice-cream you
can find!"

Then when the men were seated all about the yard and on the piazza,
eating their pink ice-cream, somebody threw up a rocket; and that was
the end of the gayest, brightest evening our little friend Flaxie
Frizzle had ever known in her life.



      *      *      *      *      *      *




SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration]

Illustrated, Comprising:--

"The authoress of The Little Prudy Stories would be elected
Aunty-laureate if the children had an opportunity, for the wonderful
books she writes for their amusement. She is the Dickens of the nursery,
and we do not hesitate to say develops the rarest sort of genius in the
specialty of depicting smart little children."--Hartford Post.

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.

COPYRIGHT, 1884, BY LEE AND SHEPARD.

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration]

"The children will not be left without healthful entertainment and
kindly instruction so long as Sophie May (Miss Rebecca S. Clarke) lives
and wields her graceful pen in their behalf, Miss Clarke has made a
close and loving study of childhood, and she is almost idolized by the
crowd of 'nephews and nieces' who claim her as aunt. Nothing to us can
ever be quite so delightfully charming as were the 'Dotty Dimple' and
the 'Little Prudy' books to our youthful imagination, but we have no
doubt the little folks of to-day will find the story of 'Flaxie Frizzle'
and her young friends just as fascinating. There is a sprightliness
about all of Miss Clarke's books that attracts the young, and their
purity, their absolute cleanliness, renders them invaluable in the eyes
of parents and all who are interested in the welfare of children."--
Morning Star.

"Genius comes in with 'Little Prudy.' Compared with her, all other
book-children are cold creations of literature; she alone is the real
thing. All the quaintness of children, its originality, its tenderness
and its teasing, its infinite uncommon drollery, the serious earnestness
of its fun, the fun of its seriousness, the naturalness of its plays,
and the delicious oddity of its progress, all these united for dear
Little Prudy to embody them."--North American Review.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration:
LITTLE PRUDY STORIES
BY SOPHIE MAY
ILLUSTRATED
SIX VOLUMES]

Illustrated, Comprising:--

LITTLE PRUDY.
  LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSIE.
    LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE.
      LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACE.
        LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK.
          LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE.

In neat box. Price 75 cents per volume.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

LITTLE PRUDY.

"I have been wanting to say a word about a book for children, perfect of
its kind--I mean Little Prudy. It seems to me the greatest book of the
season for children. The authoress has a genius for story-telling.
Prudy's letter to Mr. 'Gustus Somebody must be genuine; if an invention,
it shows a genius akin to that of the great masters. It is a positive
kindness to the little ones to remind their parents that there is such a
book as Little Prudy."--Springfield Republican.

LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSIE.

"Every little girl and boy who has made the acquaintance of that funny
'Little Prudy' will be eager to read this book, in which she figures
quite as largely as her bigger sister, though the joys and troubles of
poor Susie make a very interesting story."--Portland Transcript.

"Certainly one of the most cunning, natural, and witty little books we
ever read."--Hartford Press.

LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE.

"These are such as none but Sophie May can write, and we know not where
to look for two more choice and beautiful volumes--Susie for girls and
Horace for boys. They are not only amusing and wonderfully entertaining,
but teach most effective lessons of patience, kindness, and
truthfulness. Our readers will find a good deal in them about Prudy, for
so many things are always happening to her that the author finds it
impossible to keep her out."

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration: "There were a few articles to be ironed for the bride,
and Prudy had a mind to try the Jewish flatirons; so, with Barbara's
leave, she smoothed out some handkerchiefs on a chair."]

SPECIMEN OF "LITTLE PRUDY" CUTS.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK.

"This story book is a great favorite with the little folks, for it
contains just such stories as they like to hear their aunt and older
sister tell; and learn them by heart and tell them over to one another
as they set out the best infant tea-set, or piece a baby-quilt, or dress
dolls, or roll marbles. A book to put on the book-shelf in the playroom
where Susie and Prudy, Captain Horace, Cousin Grace, and all the rest of
the 'Little Prudy' folks are kept."--Vermont Record.

LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACE.

"An exquisite picture of little-girl life at school and at home, and
gives an entertaining account of a secret society which originated in
the fertile brain of Grace, passed some comical resolutions at first,
but was finally converted into a Soldier's Aid Society. Full of life,
and fire, and good advice; the latter sugar-coated, of course, to suit
the taste of little folks."--Press.

LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE.

"Dotty Dimple is the plague of Prudy's life, and yet she loves her
dearly. Both are rare articles in juvenile literature, as real as Eva
and Topsy of 'Uncle Tom' fame. Witty and wise, full of sport and study,
sometimes mixing the two in a confusing way, they ran bubbling through
many volumes, and make everybody wish they could never grow up or
change, they are so bright and cute."

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration: LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE.]

"You wide-awake little boys, who make whistles of willow, and go fishing
and training,--Horace is very much like you, I suppose. He is by no
means perfect, but he is brave and kind, and scorns a lie. I hope you
and he will shake hands and be friends."

SPECIMEN OF ILLUSTRATIONS TO PRUDY BOOKS.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration:
SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE FOLKS" BOOKS
DOTTY DIMPLE STORIES
SOPHIE MAY
ILLUSTRATED
DOTTY AT PLAY.]

Six Volumes. Illustrated. Comprising:--

DOTTY DIMPLE AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S.
  DOTTY DIMPLE OUT WEST.
    DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME.
      DOTTY DIMPLE AT PLAY.
        DOTTY DIMPLE AT SCHOOL.
          DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY.

In a neat box. Price 75 cents per volume.

[Illustration: DOTTY GOING WEST]

"'Please stop,' said Dotty faintly, and the boy came to her, elbowing.
'I want some of that pop-corn so much! I could buy it if you'd hold this
baby till I put my hand in my pocket.' The youth laughed, but for the
sake of 'making a trade' set down his basket and took the 'enfant
terrible.' There was an instant attack upon his hair, which was so long
and straggling as to prove an easy prey to the enemy."

SPECIMEN OF "DOTTY DIMPLE" ILLUSTRATIONS

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

DOTTY DIMPLE AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S.

"Sophie May's excellent pen has perhaps never written anything more
pleasing to children, especially little girls, than Dotty Dimple. If the
little reader who follows Dotty through these dozen chapters,--from her
visit to her grandmother to the swing under the trees,--he or she will
say: 'It has been a treat to read about Dotty Dimple, she's so
cunning.'"--Herald of Gospel Liberty.

DOTTY DIMPLE OUT WEST.

"Dotty's trip was jolly. In the cars where she saw so many people that
she thought there'd be nobody left in any of the houses, she offers to
hold somebody's baby, and when it begins to cry she stuffs pop-corn into
its mouth, nearly choking it to death. Afterwards, in pulling a man's
hair, she is horrified at seeing his wig come off, and gasps out 'O
dear, dear, dear, I didn't know your hair was so tender.' Altogether,
she is the cunningist chick that ever lived."--Oxford Press.

DOTTY DIMPLE AT HOME.

"This little book is as full of spice as any of its predecessors, and
well sustains the author's reputation as the very cleverest of all
writers of this species of children's books. Were there any doubt on
this point, the matter might be easily tested by inquiry in half the
households in the city, where the book is being revelled over."--Boston
Home Journal.

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration: "As Dotty seized two locks of the Major's hair, one in
each hand, and pulled them both as if she meant to draw them out by the
roots, out they came! Yes, entirely out; and more than that, all the
rest of his hair came too. His head was left as smooth as an apple. You
see how it was. He wore a wig, and just for play had slyly unfastened
it, and allowed Miss Dotty to pull it off. The perfect despair of her
little face amused him vastly, but he did not smile; he looked very
severe. 'See what you have done,' said he. Major Laydie's entire head of
hair lay at her feet, as brown and wavy as ever it was. Dotty looked at
it with horror. The idea of scalping a man."

SPECIMEN OF "DOTTY DIMPLE" ILLUSTRATIONS.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

DOTTY DIMPLE AT SCHOOL.

"Miss Dotty is a peremptory little body, with a great deal of human
nature in her, who wins our hearts by her comic speeches and funny ways.
She complains of being bewitched by people, and the wind 'blows her
out,' and she thinks if her comrade dies in the snow-storm she will be
'dreadfully 'shamed of it,' and has rather a lively time with all her
trials in going to school."--New York Citizen.

DOTTY DIMPLE AT PLAY.

"'Charming Dotty Dimple' as she is so universally styled, has become
decidedly a favorite with young and old, who are alike pleased with her
funny sayings and doings. Dotty At Play will be found very attractive,
and the children, especially the girls, will be delighted with her
adventures."--Boston Express.

DOTTY DIMPLE'S FLYAWAY.

"This is the final volume of the Dotty Dimple Series. It relates how
little Flyaway provisioned herself with cookies and spectacles and got
lost on a little hill while seeking to mount to heaven, and what a
precious alarm there was until she was found, and the subsequent joy at
her recovery, with lots of quaint speeches and funny incidents."--North
American.

"A Little Red Riding-Hoodish story, sprightly and takingly told."
--American Farmer.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration:
LITTLE PRUDY'S
FLYAWAY SERIES]

Six Volumes. Illustrated. Comprising:--

LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY.
    PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.
         AUNT MADGE'S STORY.
             LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.
                LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
                    MISS THISTLEDOWN.

Price 75 cents per volume.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY.

"This is a book for the little ones of the nursery or playroom. It
introduces all the old favorites of the Prudy and Dotty books with new
characters and funny incidents. It is a charming book, wholesome and
sweet in every respect, and cannot fail to interest children under
twelve years of age."--Christian Register.

PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.

"How she kept it, why she kept it, and what a good time she had playing
cook, and washerwoman, and ironer, is told as only Sophie May can tell
stories. All the funny sayings and doings of the queerest and cunningest
little woman ever tucked away in the covers of a book will please little
folks and grown people alike."--Press.

AUNT MADGE'S STORY.

"Tells of a little mite of a girl, who gets into every conceivable kind
of scrape and out again with lightning rapidity, through the whole
pretty little book. How she nearly drowns her bosom friend, and
afterwards saves her by a very remarkable display of little-girl
courage. How she gets left by a train of cars, and loses her kitten and
finds it again, and is presented with a baby sister 'come down from
heaven,' with lots of smart and funny sayings."--Boston Traveller.

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

[Illustration:
PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.
"'Oh, what a fascinating creature,' said the Man in the Moon, making an
eye-glass with his thumb and forefinger, and gazing at the lady
boarder. 'Are you a widow, mem?'"]

SPECIMEN CUT TO "LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES."

      *      *      *      *      *      *

SOPHIE MAY'S "LITTLE-FOLKS" BOOKS

LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.

"Grandmother Parlen when a little girl is the subject. Of course that
was ever so long ago, when there were no lucifer matches, and steel and
tinder were used to light fires; When soda and saleratus had never been
heard of, but people made their pearl ash by soaking burnt crackers in
water; when the dressmaker and the tailor and the shoemaker went from
house to house twice a year to make the dresses and coats of the
family."--Transcript.

LITTLE GRANDFATHER.

"The story of Grandfather Parlen's little boy life, of the days of knee
breeches and cocked hats, full of odd incidents, queer and quaint
sayings, and the customs of 'ye olden time.' These stories of Sophie
May's are so charmingly written that older folks may well amuse
themselves by reading them. That same warm sympathy with childhood, the
earnest naturalness, the novel charm of the preceding volumes will be
found in this."--Christian Messenger.

MISS THISTLEDOWN.

"One of the queerest of the Prudy family. Read the chapter heads and you
will see just how much fun there must be in it: 'Fly's Heart,' 'Taking a
Nap,' 'Going to the Fair,' 'The Dimple Dot,' 'The Hole in the Home,'
'The Little Bachelor,' 'Fly's Bluebeard,' 'Playing Mamma,' 'Butter
Spots,' 'Polly's Secret,' 'The Snow Man,' 'The Owl and the Humming-
Bird,' 'Talks of Hunting Deer,' and 'The Parlen Patchwork.'"



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