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.