"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley. "Let me take it back and put it where it belongs."
So Flora held quite still, and Charley made believe take it back; and he put another one on the cheek. Then he and Amy trudged along to school, leaving Flora and Dinah in a very happy mood.
CHAPTER III.
THE STORY OF POOR ROBIN.
lora waited until they had turned the corner. When they looked back, she waved her hand, and, before passing out of sight, Charley threw a farewell kiss.
"It was not for you," she said to the black baby, "so you need not look so pleasant about it. It was for me. And now we will go in and write on the white slate; but you must not touch it, for somebody has clumsy fingers and black fingers. It isn't me—my fingers are white; and it isn't Amy. It is you. Dolls don't know so much as other folks, and dolls break things. I don't. If you break that slate, Amy will cry. She said I might take it; she didn't say nothing to you. Will you 'member?"
They went in, but they soon came out again. The sunny morning called so loudly that Flora could not stay in doors. Not even the white slate had power to keep her. She played with it a while, and then it was cast aside, because Dinah wanted to take a walk. How she knew it, I am sure I cannot tell. Perhaps the black baby whispered her wishes in the ear of her mistress, and Flora was quite willing to oblige her. When they went out, the steps of the porch were dry, and there was no longer any mist; so Flora was at liberty to go where she pleased. That is to say, she was at liberty to go wherever mamma pleased. Down to the barn, over to auntie's, where Charley and Bertie lived, or in to see Grandma; but she was not to wander away or play in the public street, and she was on no account to go where she could not keep home in view. She might roam about the grounds all day if she liked; and there was the big tree down in the garden, with a broad seat around it, where she could play house or picnic, or anything that could be played with only Dinah to help her. But it often happened that she did not care to go to any of these places. She would have liked to open the big gate (but that was forbidden,) and follow the noisy ducks down to the pond, and now she looked with longing eyes to a group of merry boys who ought to have been in school, but were playing in the muddy street instead. She thought how nice it would be to have one's own way always, and not be obliged to ask mamma everything. She was strongly tempted to join the party of rough, rude boys. There was not a girl among them.
"I think it is too bad," she complained to Dinah, "and it ought to be a pity. Big girls know where they want to go better than mamma does. Don't they? Course they do. Did you say no? That is what mamma says. So you may turn your head round. If you don't look that way, you will forget all about it. And I will."