"She had no clear idea of an exile, nor of a cosset; but she had faith in Bertie, and she felt that an exile must be something very nice."
"You are an exile," said Charley, "because you cannot go into Grandma's house."
"Am I, Bertie?"
"Yes, dear."
It was true. She could not go into Grandma's house. She had to choose between Grandma and the perfumery. But she could stay out on the door-stone, as the musk-rat had done; and when Grandma talked to her from the window, she was not obliged to hold a handkerchief to her nose, as she did when the musk-rat was there. She well knew how to make amends to the dear child for her cruelty in keeping her out of doors; and such tempting sweetmeats passed through the window, and such wonderful shapes of gingerbread, that Flora was very happy in her banishment. The little exile was not wholly deprived of society, for it happened, fortunately, that the black baby had no sense of smell. Whether she had lost it or was born without it, Flora never knew; but she did not possess it, and so was not annoyed by the odor that troubled everybody else. It was not long before she was as highly perfumed as her mistress, and could not be tolerated in the house even for a nap. The black baby was in disgrace, and she was knocked about so roughly that her complexion was spoiled and her fine figure very much injured. Flora had serious thoughts of sending her to be repaired; but she wondered how she got so many bumps. She did not know that everybody took the liberty of tossing her out whenever she was found in doors. It was a common thing to come upon her in unexpected places. Sometimes Flora met her at the foot of the steps, sometimes at the bottom of the garden; and once, after a long search, she was discovered hanging from the bough of a tree, with arms extended as if pleading for help. Flora could not reach her, and she was brought down from her perilous position by Charley and a ladder.
"I don't blame her for trying to hang herself," said Charley, who saw the housemaid when she threw her out of an upper window, "and I hope she will have better luck next time."
"Didn't hang herself," replied Flora.
"Wanted to fly."
"She did."