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.