"Good riddance!" cried Preston. "Idon't want to see her again."
"Wedon't like yabbits, any but white ones," said Flaxie, keeping back her tears with a mighty effort, for she dearly loved Brownie.
"O, yes, Preston Gray, you feel mighty smart because you've got the white one," retorted Bert, in a rage; "but she won't do you much good, now I tell you! You see if something or another don't happen to her, that's all!"
Considering the bad luck that seemed to hang over Preston's things,—from his livingpets down to his kites and marbles,—it was very likely something would happen to the white rabbit; and Mrs. Gray told her husband she "trembled for Snowball."
Better than a Kitten. Page 68.
Better than a Kitten. Page 68.
Very soon after this Preston rushed into the house one morning in great trouble, his lips quivering.
"Something ails Snowball," gasped he; "she's fainting away."
Fainting away! She was dying, and nobody could save her. All that could be done was to watch her graceful form stiffen in death, while everybody asked over and over, "What could have killed her?"
"She was poisoned," said Dr. Gray.
"O, O!" screamed Preston, beside himself with grief. "Then Bert did it! Bertmusthave done it; and I'll never forgive him as long as I live!"
"My son, my son! Never let me hear you speak in that way of your cousin."
But Preston muttered to Ninny and Julia,—
"Why, you see, Iknowhe did it! He said something would happen to Snowball; and he said it so spiteful!"
"Bertie Rabbit's a drefful wicked boy, an' his playfings shan't stay inmyyard," scolded Flaxie Frizzle, kicking away, with her foot, Bert's new green morocco ball that lay in the grass.
"Look there, will you! He dropped that ball when he brought the poison," cried Preston, very much excited. "Give that ball here to me, Flaxie".
Preston was sure now. He had made up his mind in a hurry, but he had made it up; heknewwho had killed his rabbit.
Bert was not at school that day.
"I didn'ts'posehe'd dare to come," said Preston.
Then he took the ball out of his pocket, looked at it savagely, and told the boys what Bertie had done.
Everybody was sorry, for Preston was a great favorite; but it is a grave fact that a few of the boys were secretly glad of a quarrel between two such good friends, and thought, "Now Preston will notice the rest of us a little more perhaps." And the boys who had these envious feelings did not try to stand up for Bert, you may be sure. They said, "You ain't a bit to blame for getting mad, Preston. It's pretty plain who killed your rabbit. Wonder how Bert Abbott'd like it if you should give a sling at Old Brownie? 'Twould be no more'n fair!"
"That's so," said Preston, growing angrier and angrier, as they talked over his wrongs, till it seemed to him he couldn't stand itanother minute without revenging himself on Bert.
"If he kills my rabbit, why shouldn't I kill his?" he argued with himself, stealing round by Aunt Jane Abbott's on his way home from school at noon.
Just before he reached her back gate, he picked up a smooth round stone and aimed it at a knot in one of the boards, which he hit right in the centre,—he was pretty sure to hit whatever he aimed at,—then he found the stone again, and hid it in his pocket. It was about the right size to throw at a rabbit's head.
Poor, unsuspecting Brownie! There she was, in the garden, munching cabbage-leaves, when Preston crept toward her, looking this way and that, to make sure nobody saw him. She heard the slight sound of his boots, and sat up on herhaunches, perfectly motionless, to listen. Certainly he never could have had a better chance to aim at her than then. Very slowly he put his hand in his pocket, and very slowly he was drawing out the stone, when the loving little creature caught sight of him, and leaped joyfully toward him in her pitiful, crippled way. What boy, with a heart, would have harmed such a pet? Not Preston, I hope you know! He dropped the stone, and ran home in such a hurry that he was quite out of breath, when at the gate he met Flaxie, carrying Snowball's drinking-dish by the tips of her fingers.
"Naughty oldfing" said she; "I'm going to frow it down thescut-hole!" (Flaxie meant scuttle.)
"Hold on, that's mine!" cried Preston, seizing the pan which he had painted a brilliant green only a day or two before.
"No, no: I'm going to frow it down the scut-hole," persisted Flaxie. "It killed the dear little rabbit: Dr. Papa said so."
Yes: it was the fresh paint that had poisoned Snowball. Dr. Gray had said that at once when Flaxie had led him out to the cage to show him the poor, stiff little body, and he saw the flakes of green soaked off from the sides of the drinking-pan and floating on the water.
So really Preston was the murderer. Poor Preston! Didn't he hang his head for shame? And, as for Bert, he hadn't been near Snowball for two whole days; he had been on the sofa all that time with earache and toothache.
"Does you feel orfly?" said little Flaxie. "You going to cry?"
"Yes, I feel orfly; but boys don't cry," replied Preston, trying to whistle.
He tried to whistle again, when Bert, of his own accord, brought back Brownie and said,—
"Come, Pres, let's go partner's again. Your cage is better than mine."
Preston choked up and could not speak; but, after this, he and Bert were closer friends than ever.
VI.
THE STRANGE RIDE.
Thenext summer Flaxie had a baby brother named Philip Lally Gray. Flaxie said he was "as good as any of the rest of the family, and lots better."
She loved him dearly; and perhaps it was in loving him that she learned to become unselfish. By the time he was a year old, he had pulled her hair, and scratched her face, and given her a great deal of trouble; but the more he tried her patience, the more her patience grew.
"Really, she is almost as sweet as Ninny," said Mrs. Gray to her husband.
When Philip was thirteen months old, he had no teeth, and Flaxie grieved about it. Her own were falling out, and she wished she could give them to her baby brother.
"Never mind," said Dr. Papa. "If he never has any teeth of his own, I will buy him some gold ones."
"O, that'll be so nice," cried Flaxie. "I never saw any gold teeth in all my life."
That year, late in September, Flaxie Frizzle went with her mamma and baby Phil to the city of Louisville, in Kentucky, to see Grandpa and Grandma Curtis. Dr. Gray staid at home with Ninny and Preston.
"Poor papa couldn't come, 'cause he has to give folks their mederson," explained Miss Frizzle, before she had taken off her bonnet in grandma's parlor.
"Too bad," laughed pretty GrandmaCurtis, who was ever and ever so much younger than Grandma Pressy, and didn't even wear a cap. "But we are glad he could send his little daughter."
No wonder she was glad! Flaxie was all pink and white, with a mouth made up for kisses, and eyes laughing like the sky after a shower. The colored girl, Venus, had never seen her before; but she loved her in a moment, for Flaxie threw both arms around her neck and kissed her, like a butterfly alighting on a black velvet rose.
But that night Flaxie did not seem quite well, and the next morning she was worse; she could not even hold the baby.
"They're so glad I've got the mumps," said she, two or three days afterward, as she lay on the sofa, with hot, swelled cheeks and parched lips that tried to smile.
The remark was made to Peppermint Drop, the doll of her bosom; but black Venus took it to herself.
"And what makes 'em glad you're sick?" said she.
"'Cause my mamma wants me to have the mumps all done, Venus, and then she can go to my'nothergrandma's next week. I've got lots of grandmas. She's going to see this one next week, and take the baby."
"Yes," said Venus, dusting the chairs; "and prob'ly if you get well she'll take you too."
"No, O, no: she don't think's best," replied Flaxie, dropping a hot tear on Peppermint Drop's bosom, which would have melted it a little if it had been made of sugar instead of bran. "Grandma Hyde lives in theothertown, 'way off, downwhere the boats go; and mamma says shecan'ttake but one childrens. She's drefful sorry; but she don't think best."
And the little girl dried her eyes on her doll's bib-apron; for she heard some one coming, and didn't want to be a baby.
It was mamma, with Phil in her arms, fresh from his morning bath, bright, wide-awake, and ready for mischief. His hair was golden,—darker even now than Flaxie's,—and his eyes were the richest brown.
"Shall I let himgo?" asked mamma, as if he were a wild creature, and they generally kept him in chains.
"Yes, mamma, let him go."
And, when she dropped her hold of him, he rushed at his sister, and "hugged her grizzly," as she called it, like the most affectionate of little bears.
"Won't Grandma Hyde beexprisedto see him? She'll love you and thank you dearly," said Flaxie.
"I'm a little ashamed of him," laughed Mrs. Gray. "You know he has only one tooth."
"Well, he hasn't much teeth, and he can't talk; but he can stand on his headsocunnin'! Phil want to go in boat? Want see Gamma Hyde, and hug her grizzly?"
Was this our cross Flaxie? Indeed, shewasalmost as sweet as Ninny—sometimes!
When the day came for going to Shawneetown, where Grandma Hyde lived, Flaxie had got her mumps "all done," and was allowed to ride down in a hack to the "Jennie Howell," and see mamma off.
Little Phil wore a white dress and a softwhite cloak, with silk acorns and leaves embroidered all over it; and a white cap with a white cockade set on top of his gold rings of hair. He looked like a prince; and his mother called him, "'Philip, my King.'"
The last thing Flaxie saw him do was to throw kisses at a hen-coop which somebody was putting on board the boat. He thought there were chickens in it, and I suppose there were.
Flaxie looked rather sober as she rode back in the hack with Grandma Curtis. "He never went toShawtownbefore," said she; "and he isn't much 'quainted with strangers. I spect I ought to gone with him."
"I spect he'll get along beautifully," replied Grandma Curtis, hugging Flaxie; "but, if you are needed, your mamma can send a dispatch, you know."
She little thought Mrs. Gray would really send a dispatch.
Mrs. Gray and the baby steamed slowly down the Ohio,—very slowly; for the water was so low that in many places you could see the bottom of the river. Once the boat stuck fast for an hour or two on a sand-bar.
"I am glad it is not a snag," thought Mrs. Gray; "that would make me afraid."
A snag is a dead tree; and, when the river is low, it sometimes scrapes the bottom of the boat, and makes holes in it.
After supper she undressed Philly and put him in his little berth; for they were not likely to reach Shawneetown, at this rate, before morning.
"They are all longing to see us," thought Mrs. Gray, kissing her sleeping baby. Mrs. Hyde was her own mother,and they had not met for two years. "O, yes, Philly, your grandma has a nice supper ready, and your Aunt Floy has been at the window all the afternoon. How slowly we do go. Hush, Philly, don't cry,—
'The owl and the pussy cat went to sea,In a beautiful pea-green boat.'"
'The owl and the pussy cat went to sea,In a beautiful pea-green boat.'"
Philly dropped off to sleep at last. His mother put him in the upper berth, and lay down herself on the lower berth, without undressing. She was quiet and happy, listening to the baby's breathing, and thinking of the griddle-cakes and honey grandma would give her for breakfast, when suddenly she was roused by frightful screams.
The boat was leaking! A great snag, which stood up in the river like a horned beast, had seized it and torn holes in its sides. It was of no use trying to stop theleak; the boat was sinking fast; all that could be done was to get out the people.
The captain and his men worked terribly, taking them off into life-boats; but there was such a hurry and such a fright that it was not possible to save everybody. Some of the passengers went down. Among them were some bewildered little children, who did not know what had happened till they woke in heaven, and the angels told them the story.
Mrs. Gray was one of the people saved; but where was her precious baby? The men said they did not know, he was nowhere to be seen, and even his little bed had been washed away!
"Go without Philly? Go without my baby? I can't do it, Ican'tdo it," cried the poor mother.
But two of the good men seized her anddragged her into the life-boat. Theywouldsave her in spite of herself.
Dear Mrs. Gray, who had thought so much of seeing her mother and sister, and showing them her baby! She was taken in a carriage with the other passengers to Shawneetown, just where she had all the time intended to go; but, O, what a sad meeting! Her mother and her sister Floy met her at the door, not knowing what had happened.
"My baby is lost, my baby is lost!" wailed she, and fainted away in Aunt Kitty's arms.
A dispatch was sent to Grandma Curtis at Louisville, and another to Dr. Gray at Rosewood, New York. The poor doctor was wakened in the middle of the night to learn that his little boy was drowned!
Morning came at last; it always comes.The sun shone too; it is just as likely to shine when people are sad as when they are happy. But what a long day it was to that wretched mother! What a long day to her husband, who started before sunrise to go to meet her!
In the evening, before Dr. Gray could possibly get there, a strange man called at Grandma Hyde's and asked if Mrs. Gray was in the house?
"She is," replied Aunt Floy, whose eyes were red with weeping. "I hope you haven't any more bad news for her! She can't bear any more!"
"I don't believe it's bad news," replied the man, with something that was almost a smile. "Did Mrs. Gray lose a child on the wreck of the 'Jennie Howell' last night?"
"Yes, sir, a baby. Speak low."
"Well," said the man, dropping his voiceto a whisper, "I am pilot of the 'Jennie Howell,' ma'am. I went down to look at her this morning; and what should I see but a mattress, ma'am, floating in the cabin, most up to the ceiling, and a live baby on top of it!"
"A live baby? O, not alivebaby!"
"Yes, ma'am, sleeping as sweet as a lamb! My wife has got him now over here to the hotel—a pretty little yellow-haired shaver, as—"
"O, it's Philly! where is he? Bring him this minute! I know it's Philly!"
And so it was; for, my dears, this is a true story. It was Philip Gray; and he had been saved almost by a miracle. Was the finding of Moses in the bulrushes so strange a thing as this?
His mother was driven to the hotel, where the pilot's wife sat in the public parlor with a baby in her lap.
"O, my boy!" cried Mrs. Gray.
And he rushed into her arms with a gleeful shout,—her own precious "'Philip my King.'"
VII.
MAKING CALLS.
Notvery long after this, Mrs. Gray, came back to Rosewood with Flaxie and the dear rescued baby whom everybody was eager to see, for,—
"They loved him more and more.Ah, never in their hearts before,Was love so lovely born."
"They loved him more and more.Ah, never in their hearts before,Was love so lovely born."
And Ninny cried as she took him in her arms, and said,—
"He doesn't look as he used to, does he, papa? His eyes areverydifferent."
"You think that because we came so near losing him," replied Dr. Papa.
Baby Philip looked round upon them allwith "those deep and tender twilight eyes," which seemed to be full of sweet meanings; but I must confess that he was thinking of nothing in the world just then but his supper.
The travellers had not been home a week before Grandpa Pressy sent for Ninny to go and make him and grandma a visit, and this left Flaxie Frizzle rather lonesome; for Preston did not care to play with girls when he could be with Bert Abbott. Besides, he and his cousin Bert were uncommonly busy about this time, getting up a pin-show in Dr. Gray's barn.
So Flaxie's mamma often let her run over to Aunt Jane Abbott's to see Lucy and Rose. I have not told you before of these cousins, because there have been so many other things to talk about that I have not had time. Lucy was a black-eyedlittle gipsy, and Rose was a sweet little creature, you could never see without wanting to kiss.
Just now Aunt Jane had a lively young niece from Albany spending the fall with her, named Gussie Ricker. One day, when Flaxie Frizzle was at Aunt Jane's, Gussie proposed that Flaxie and Lucy should make a call upon a little girl who was visiting Mrs. Prim.
"O, yes," said Lucy, "we truly must call on Dovey Sparrow. She has frizzly curls like Flaxie's, and she can play five tunes on the piano. But, Gussie, how do you make calls?"
"O," replied Miss Gussie, with a twinkle in her eye, "all sorts of ways. Sometimes we take our cards; but it isn't really necessary for little girls to do that. Then we just touch the lady's hand,—this way,—andtalk about the weather; and, in three minutes or so, we go away."
"I've seen calls a great many times," said Flaxie Frizzle, thoughtfully. "I can make one if Lucy will go with me."
"I could make one better alone," said Lucy, in a very cutting tone. She was two years older than Flaxie, and always remembered it.
"I'll go wiv you, Flaxie, if Lucy doesn't," put in little Rose, the sweet wee sister; and then it was Flaxie's turn to be cutting, for as it happened she was just two years older than Rose.
"Poh," said she; "youcan't do calls, a little speck of a thing like you! You don't grow so much in a year as my thumb grows in five minutes!"
Rose hid her blushing face in the rocking-chair.
"Do you truly think we'd better go, Gussie?" asked Lucy; for Gussie was laughing, and Lucy did not like to be made fun of, though she did make fun of Flaxie Frizzle.
"O, certainly," said Gussie, trying to look very sober; "don't I always say what I mean?"
So, as they were going, Lucy took Flaxie one side that afternoon and instructed her how to behave.
"Dovey came from Boston, and we never saw her only in church; so I s'pose wemustcarry cards."
"Where'll we get 'em?"
"O, my mamma has plenty, and so has Gussie. I know Gussie would be glad to lend me her silver card-case that Uncle William gave her; she wants me to be so polite! But I don't dare ask her, so I guess I'll borrow it without asking."
"Hasn't somebody else got a gold one thatIcould borrow?" asked Miss Frizzle, looking rather unhappy as the pretty toy dropped into Lucy's pocket.
"O, it's no matter aboutyou; you don't need a card-case, for I shall be with you to take care of you," returned Lucy, as they both stood in Mrs. Abbott's guest-chamber before the tall looking-glass. "Do tell me, Flaxie, does my hat look polite? I mean is it style enough?"
"It's as style as mine," replied Flaxie, gazing into the glass with Lucy. How pretty she thought Lucy was, because her eyes were black and her hair was dark and didn't "friz!"
"I wish I wasn't a 'tow-head,' and I wish I was as tall as you!" sighed she.
"Well,youdon't care," said Lucy, graciously. "You'll grow. You're just asgood as I am if you only behave well. You mustn't run out your tongue, Flaxie: it looks as if you were catching flies. And you mustn't sneeze before people: it's very rude."
"I heardyouonce, Lu Abbott, and it was in church too!"
"O, then 'twas an accident; you must scuse accidents. And now," added Lucy, giving a final touch to her gloves, "I want you to notice how I act, Flaxie Frizzle, and do just the same; for my mother has seen the President and yours hasn't."
"Well, my mamma's seen an elephant," exclaimed Flaxie, with spirit; "and she has two silk dresses and a smelling-bottle."
"Poh! my cousin Gussie's got a gold watch, and some nightly blue sirreup. Uncle William gives her lots of things;but I shouldn't think of telling o' that! Now, do you know what to do when anybodyinducesyou to strangers?"
"What you s'pose?" replied Flaxie, tartly. "I speak up and say 'Yes'm.'"
Lucy laughed, as if she were looking down, down from a great hight upon her little cousin.
"And shake hands, too," added Flaxie, quickly, for fear she had made a mistake.
"No, you give three fingers,notyour hand. Just as if you were touching a toad. And you raise your eyebrows up,—thisway,—and quirk your mouth,—so,—and nod your head.
"'How d'ye do, Miss Dovey Sparrow? It's a charr-rming day. Are they all well at Boston?' You'll see howI'lldo it, Flaxie! Then I shall take out my hang-verchief and shake it, so the sniff of the nightly bluesirreup willwaftall round the room.—O, I've seen 'em!
"Then I shall wipe my nose—this way—and sit down. I've seen young ladies do it a great many times."
"So've I," chimed in Flaxie Frizzle, admiring her cousin's fine graces. Such tiptoeing and courtesying and waving of hands before the looking-glass. How did Lucy manage it so well?
"And, if people have plants," continued Lucy, "then you say, 'Howflagrant!' And, if people have children, you say, 'Whatdarlings!' and pat their hair, and ask, 'Do you go to school, my dear?'"
"They've said that to me ever so many times; and I've got real sick of it," remarked Flaxie.
"And they keep calling every thing char-ar-ming and bee-you-oo-tiful! with suchtight gloves on, I know their fingers feel choked!"
"I spect we ought to go," said Flaxie, tired of all this instruction. "I don't believe you know how to behave, Lu Abbott. You never made any calls, more'n I did."
As they went through the hall, Flaxie thought she would "borrow" Aunt Jane's lace veil; but Lucy did not observe this till they had started off. They tripped along the roadside, past Mr. Potter's store, past the church, their feet scarcely touching the grass. Lucy felt like a princess royal till they reached Mrs. Prim's beautiful grounds, and then her heart fluttered a little. She had a sudden longing to run home and get Gussie to come back with them.
"Pull the bell," said she to Flaxie. Flaxie pulled so hard that her veil flew off, and she had to chase it several rods.
"Put it in your pocket, you awful child," exclaimed Lucy, as Kitty Maloney, the kitchen girl, opened the door in alarm, thinking something dreadful had happened.
"Why, bless my soul, if 'tisn't Docther Gray's little snip of a Mary. And who's this? Why, it's Miss Abbott's little gee-url. Anybody sick?"
Now was the time for Miss Frizzle's courage to come up. She stepped in front of the frightened Lucy, and exclaimed, boldly,—
"I'm Flaxie Frizzle, you know, and this is my cousin. We want to see Dovey Sparrow."
As Flaxie spoke, Lucy tremblingly drew out her card-case.
"Yes, she's in. She and Miss Prim has just come from ridin'. Will ye walk in?" said Katy,veryrespectfully.
"Please give her these," faltered Lucy, placing in Kitty's hands two cards, one bearing the name, "Augusta L. Ricker," the other a few words in pencil, which somebody must have written for a memorandum:—
"Kerosene oil.Vanilla.Oatmeal soap."
Kitty stared at the cards, then at the exquisite Lucy, and suddenly put her calico apron up to her face.
"Will ye wait till I give her the kee-ards, young ladies, or will ye come in the parlor now?" said she, in a stifled voice.
Flaxie Frizzle concluded to walk in; and Lucy, who was now nothing but Flaxie's shadow, followed her in silence.
Kitty Maloney disappeared; and, in about a minute, Dovey Sparrow tripped in, blushing and looking as frightened as a wood-pigeon.The roguish Kitty had just told her that her little visitors were very ginteel folks, and she must talk to 'em as if she was reading it out of a book.
Meantime Kitty was hiding in the back parlor, with her apron over her mouth, forgetting her potato yeast in her curiosity to watch these fine young ladies.
Flaxie rose and shook hands, but entirely forgot to speak. Lucy did the same.
"H'm," said Flaxie, snapping the card-case, which she had taken from Lucy.
"Yes'm," responded Dovey, trembling.
It was getting rather awkward.
Flaxie wiped her nose, and so did Miss Lucy. Then Flaxie folded her arms; also Lucy.
Poor Miss Dovey tried to think of a speech grand enough to make to these wise little people; but the poor thing could notremember any thing but her geography lessons.
Flaxie Frizzle was also laboring in vain. The only thing that came intoherhead was a wild desire to sneeze.
At last, her eye chancing to rest on the crimson trimmings of Dovey's dress, she was suddenly reminded of turkeys and their dislike of red things. So she cried out in despair,—
"Do you keep a turkey at your house?"
O, strange question!
"Does your papa keep sheep?" chimed in Lucy.
"We don't keep a thing!" replied Dovey, in great surprise at these remarkable speeches; "nor a dog either."
Then Flaxie Frizzle, growing bolder and bolder, came out brilliantly with this:—
"You got anytrundlebedsto Boston?"
This was too much; the ice was beginning to crack.
"Why, Flaxie Frizzle!" said Lucy; and then she laughed.
"Look at that clock on the bracket! Why, what are you laughing at, girls?"
"O, how funny!" cried Flaxie Frizzle, dancing out of her chair.
"Do stop making me shake so!" said Miss Dovey, dropping to the floor, and rocking back and forth.
"O, ho," screamed Lucy, hopping across the rug, "you don't look like a bird any more'n I do, Dovey Sparrow."
They were all set in a very high gale by this time.
"Be still," said Flaxie Frizzle, holding up both hands. "There, now, I had a sneeze; but, O, dear, I can't sneeze it!"
"You're just like anybody, after all,"tittered the sparrow. "Don't you want to go out and jump on the hay?"
"Well, there," replied Miss Lucy, rolling her gloves into a ball, "you never asked us to take our things off, you never!"
"I didn't want you to," said Dovey; "you scared me half to death!"
"Did we?" cried Lucy, in delight. "Well, I never was so 'fraid my own self. You ought to heard my heart beat when we rang that bell."
"Me, too," said Flaxie Frizzle.
"But you're such a darling, though," pursued Lucy, kissing her new friend warmly. "I'mgladyou don't know how to behave!"
"I'm glad you don't, either," said Dovey, tilting herself on a rocker like a bird on a bough, "I thought you were going to be,O, so polite, for you set Kitty all of a tremble. Come, let's go out and play."
"So we will. Come along, Flaxie Frizzle."
"What! is that Flaxie Frizzle? O, I always did want to see Flaxie Frizzle. Mrs. Prim has told me lots about her," said Dovey, as they skipped out to the barn.
You may be sure Lucy lost the "borrowed" card-case in the hay; and, when it was found, weeks afterward, it bore the marks of horse's teeth; but Gussie said,—
"It is good enough for me; I ought not to have filled the children's heads with such nonsense."
I am happy to state that Aunt Jane's veil,—a beautiful lace one,—reached home safely, and that this was the last fashionable call Lucy and Flaxie Frizzle ever made.
VIII.
TEASING MIDGE.
Sometimeafter this, Aunt Jane Abbott, who was sick with neuralgia, went to New Jersey for her health. She took Bert and Lucy with her; but little Rose came to stay with Flaxie Frizzle. Rose was her real name, but sometimes they called her Midge, she was so small.
She was a sweet child; and, the first day she came, Miss Frizzle was so glad to see her that she called for her new tea-set, which stood on the high shelf in the closet, took her best wax doll out of its paper wraps, and held a real jubilee in the nursery.
"O, Rosie," said she, dancing around her, "I wish you'd never, never go home again, only just long enough to see your mother, and come right back again to live in this house. 'Cause I haven't any little sister, you know, 'cept Ninny, and she's big,—'most twelve years old."
"Well, my mamma's got thealgebra; and I've come to stay a great, long while," said Rosa, seating herself at the doll's table,—"all the time mamma and Lucy are gone."
"What do you say your mamma's got?"
"Algebra."
"You meannew-algery," said Flaxie, smiling.
"Well, I guess it is," returned meek little Rose, passing a wee plate to her cousin. "And now you say to me, 'Won't you have some tea, lady?'"
"How is your Chillens, Mrs. Frizzle?" Page 115.
"How is your Chillens, Mrs. Frizzle?" Page 115.
The dolls sat in their chairs and looked on, while the young hostess turned the tea into the cups very gracefully. "Ahem," said she, trying to look very grown-up, "does tea 'fect your nerves, Mrs. Rose?"
"Yes'm,—I don' know," replied Mrs. Rose, puckering her lips to fit the tiny spoon.
"You goin' topiecethe meat, and give all as much as each?"
"No, Mrs. Rose: you may take your fork and put one slice of meat on each doll's plate."
Rose obeyed; and then, as nothing else was said, she asked,—
"Howisyour chillens, Mrs. Frizzle?"
"All are well that you see here at the table, ma'am; but the rest are down with measles," returned the little lady of the teapot. "Will you have some of the fruit, Mrs. Rose?"
"O, that isn'tfyuit," said the small guest; "that'sblackb'ry perserves; but we'll make b'lieve it's fyuit. Yes'm: thank you, if you please."
"Brackberriesarefruits," said the correct Mrs. Frizzle; "and currants are fruits. You can tell 'em just as easy. When anything has seeds to it, then it's a fruit; and, when ithasn'tseeds, it's a vegetable."
"O, I thought peaches was fyuits; and peaches hasn't any seeds," said Rose, faintly.
"Why, you little ignoramus! Of course peaches have stones! Who ever said they had seeds!"
"I don't like to have you call meniggeramus," said Rose, with a quivering lip. "My mamma never said so."
"Well, my sister Ninny says so; and she studies hist'ry. You don't know what words mean, Rosie; you don't go to school!"
"No," said Rose, hanging her head, "I haven't never been to school, 'cause mamma says I'm not velly well."
"'Fore I'd be a cry-baby, Mrs. Midge," returned Flaxie, enjoying the very humble look on her cousin's face. "You wouldn't dare go to school, 'cause there are cows in the road."
"I'm 'fraid of cows when they have their hooks on," said Rosie, still hanging her head.
"I guess everybody knows that. Will you please pass the cream-pitcher?"
"It's velly funnyqueam" said dear little Rose, winking away her tears.
"This isn't cream, ma'am; it's condensed milk."
"Condemnedmilk?"
"No: I saidcondensed, not condemned. You look as if you never saw any before."
"My papa hasn't got a condensed cow," said Rose, humbly.
"You goosie, goosie," laughed Flaxie. "My papa hasn't got a condensed cow, either; nobody has. Youbuythis kind of milk at the store. I'm going right into the parlor to tell my mother what you said."
"Don't, O, don't," implored little Rose.
Flaxie knew her young cousin dreaded to be laughed at;—all children dread it;—but, forgetting her manners, and the Golden Rule, too, she sprang up from the table and ran to the door, little Rose creeping after her, all the happiness gone out of her face.
Mrs. Prim was in the parlor, and it did seem as if she would never be done laughing about that "condensed cow;" but Mrs. Gray only said,—
"Well, well; no wonder the darling didn't know."
Sweet, sensitive Rose stood in the doorway, looking down at her boots and thinking how silly Mrs. Prim was, and how unkind her dear cousin Flaxie.
"I used to love Flaxie," thought she, squeezing back a tear; "but now I wish I could go wight home and stay there. Plaguing little girls like me, when I comed to purpose to please her!"
"What are you crying about, you precious?" asked Dodo, as the child wandered into the kitchen.
Gentle little Rose didn't like to tell.
"O, I know," said Dodo. "Flaxie has got into one of her teasing spells; and, when she does, there's no peace for anybody."
Mrs. Gray did not talk in that way to Rose.
"Flaxie loves you dearly, if sheisrude. Don't mind all the little things she says to you, darling. Try to be brave and laugh it off."
"I would laugh, auntie, only it makes my head ache to shake it the leastest speck."
"Flaxie," said Mrs. Gray, taking her little daughter one side, "is this the way you are going to treat your dear cousin? I cannot permit it."
"Well, I won't," replied Flaxie, quite ashamed of herself; "but she cries so easy, mamma, as easy as a—a—beetle bug."
Next morning Rosa's head ached harder than ever, and Flaxie laughed and danced all the time. Rosie did wish she wouldn't be so noisy.
"How sober you are, Midge Abbott. Don't you want me to tell you a story?"
"Yes. Do, O, do."
What spirit of mischief seized Flaxie, just then, to want to frighten Rose? She loved her dearly; but she enjoyed making her tremble, she could do it so easily.
"Well, therewasan oldwoo-ooman, allskinandbo-one," began Flaxie, in a singsong tone.
It was a dreadful, dreadful story, which she had heard Tommy Winters, a naughty boy, tell, and her mamma had forbidden her ever to repeat it; but she forgot that. She only wanted to see if Rose would scream as loud as she herself had screamed on hearing it.
Scream? Poor Rosie fairly shrieked.
"Stop! O, do stop," said Flaxie.
But Rose could not stop.
"There isn't any such woman," said Flaxie.
But Rose cried all the same.
"There neverwassuch a woman! Now won't you stop?"
"O, dear, dear, dear!" sobbed Rose.
"There neverwillbe such a woman, you darling. There,nowwon't you stop? I've told you so over and over, but still you keep crying," said Flaxie, in real dismay.
"What's the matter now?" asked Ninny, coming into the nursery, and finding Rose curled up in a little heap of misery in the corner.
"I don't know what to do with her. I s'pose it's me that's to blame," said Flaxie, rather sulkily, though she was very sorry too. "I can't say a single thing but she cries."
"Well, you must be kind to her; she isn't used to cross words. Her sister Lucy is very different from you," said Ninny,taking Rose into her arms, in a motherly way.
"You blame me, and everybody blames me," growled Flaxie; "but I can't say aneeny-teenything but she cries."
Flaxie kept telling herself Rose was a cry-baby; but in her heart she knew it was her own rudeness which had wounded her sensitive little cousin in the first place. She knew Rose was the sort of little girl who never could "get over" any thing in a minute, and so ought not to be teased.
"I'll make it up," thought Flaxie. "Maybe Ihavebeen naughty; but I'll make it up."
So, about supper-time, she came along to Rose, and very sweetly offered to cut some paper dolls for her.
"Now 'twill be all right," thought Flaxie; but by that time even paper dolls had losttheir charm for Rose. There was a settled pain in the little girl's forehead, and her cheeks kept flushing and flushing till they were a deep crimson.
"Come, sit in auntie's lap," said Mrs. Gray, putting down the baby, and a little startled by Rosie's quick breathing. "Come and tell auntie if darling feels sick anywhere."
"I don't know," moaned little Rose; but she seemed very glad to lay her hot face against her aunt's shoulder; and it was not two minutes before she was fast asleep.
"I don't feel quite easy about her," said Mrs. Gray to her husband, when he came home to supper.
Dr. Gray felt the child's pulse, and said,—
"Perhaps she has taken a sudden cold." He did not like to tell his wife that hewas afraid of scarlet fever. But before long she knew it for herself: the symptoms were not to be mistaken.
It was thought at first that Flaxie and the baby, who had neither of them had the fever, must be sent away. But the doctor said, "No, there would be danger of their carrying the dreadful disease to others.
"It is better that they should stay at home," said he: "only Flaxie must be very sure never to see her sick cousin or go into her room."
"Never see Rosie! Yes, that was what Dr. Papa said," sobbed Flaxie. "O Dodo, did he meannever?"
How could Dodo tell? How could even poor, white-faced Aunt Jane tell, who came at once to nurse her darling daughter. She had to wait like all the rest.
Do you know how hard it is to wait?Do you know how long that week was to Flaxie, with the dreary days coming and going, and still no change for the better?
No: you do not know, unless you, too, have had a friend who was very sick.
And the aching that was at Flaxie's heart, the yearning she felt to throw her arms round her little cousin's neck and beg forgiveness!
Ah! you can not even guess at that unless you, too, have been unkind to a dear friend who may possibly be going to die.
IX.
THE WEE WHITE ROSE.
Noneed now to caution Flaxie not to make a noise. She crept about the house as still as a shadow, with an old, heartbroken look on her childish face, pitiful to see.
And, far away in the east chamber, lay dear little Rose, flushed with fever.
O, if you had only known what a darling it was that lay there!
From her sweet babyhood she had always been a sunbeam in her father's house; and, after her father died, a year ago, it had really seemed as if she thought she must try to comfort her poor mamma.
Aunt Jane, her mamma, was very delicate; and, when Dr. Gray came to see her once, he said to little Rose,—
"You're mamma's little nurse. Don't forget to take good care of her."
And Rose did not forget. After that, she often said,—
"Unker Docker, Idotake care o' mamma."
If Mrs. Abbott dressed to go out, the little daughter would say,—
"Why, mamma, you must have youryubbers. I'll go get your yubbers and warm 'em this minute."
Lucynever thought of warming the rubbers, and she was a good girl too.
When Mrs. Abbott stepped into the cold hall, Rose followed with a little white lambswool shawl, begging her to put it over her shoulders.
She did not like to give her beautifulsick mother any trouble, so she dressed and undressed herself, though scarcely five years old; and every day, after dinner, went to her little room, lay down on the bed, and took her nap without being told.
Mrs. Abbott had been in New Jersey only three days, when Dr. Gray telegraphed to her that Rosie was ill, and she hurried home as fast as she could.
The morning after she returned was little Rosie's birthday, and that morning a present had come from her dear, good "Unker Willum,"—a lovely muff and tippet, such as she had long been wishing to have. Mamma brought them and laid them beside her on the bed.
"Wasn't it beautiful?" mamma said. "And see the squirrel's head on the muff, and the cunningporte-monnaieinside."
"Yes, pretty, pretty," said little Rosie;for her head was thumping so hard that it did not please her very much, after all.
Once she had told dear "Unker Willum" that, if she had a lot of money, she should be "perfickly happy."
"How much money would make you perfickly happy?" he asked.
"Three hundred and three thousand and thirty-six cents," said Rose; and, every time he asked her, she gave the same answer.
So now there was a neat little note inside the muff, and it told Rosie that, when next Christmas came, "Unker Willum would send her three hundred and three thousand and thirty-six cents and make his darling niece 'perfickly happy.'"
Rosie did not clap her hands or laugh at this letter as "Unker Willum" had expected; she only smiled faintly, and by-and-byebegan to cry softly to herself. Mamma said,—
"Is it your head, darling?"
"Yes, mamma, my head aches; but that isn't what makes me cry. I was s'posin' would you and Lucy and Bertie be very lonesome 'thout me, if I should go way off up to heaven?"
"Don't talk so, my precious child," said Mrs. Abbott. "God doesn't want you to die; He wants you to live to be mamma's dear little comfort."
"Does He?" asked Rosie, opening her sweet, blue eyes, and fixing them on her mother's face. Then she moved her head from side to side on the pillow, and said,—
"No, mamma, I think I'm going up to heaven velly soon."
Mrs. Abbott's heart throbbed with a quick pain at these words; and she beganto tell Rosie some stories to take up her mind; such as "Little Bopeep has Lost her Sheep," and "Little Boy Blue, come, Blow your Horn!"
"Mamma," said Rosie, "I'd ravver hear that pretty story 'bout Jesus—it's so much nicer. How he came down here, and put his hands on the little chillens."
Then Mrs. Abbott sang, in a trembling voice,—