“The faster I hurry the quicker I can’t go,” said she, puffing for breath.
It was a beautiful day. The wind blew over the grass, and the grass moved in green waves; Flaxie thought it was running away like herself.
It was half a mile to the bridge. By the time she reached Mr. Pratt’s store, which was half way, she thought she would stop to rest.
“’Cause he’ll give me some candy,” said she, and walked right into the store, though it was half full of men,—oh fie! Flaxie Frizzle!
Mr. Jones, a lame man, was sitting next the door, and she walked boldly up to him.
“Mr. Lame Jones, does you want to see my kitty?”
He laughed, and took it in his hands; and another man pinched its tail. Flaxie screamed out:043
“You mustn’t hold it by the handle, Mr. Man!”
Then they all laughed more than ever, and clapped their hands; and Mr. Jones said:
“You’re a cunning baby!”