“Well,” replied Flaxie, quickly, “what makes you have turn-about feet?”
This wasn’t a proper thing to say, and it made Mr. Jones look sober, for he was sorry to have such feet. Mr. Pratt was afraid Flaxie would talk more about them; so he frowned at her and said:
“Good little girls don’t run away bare-headed, Miss Frizzle! Is your mamma at home?”
“Guess I’ll go now,” said Flaxie; “some more folks will want to see my kitty.”
Mr. Pratt’s boy ran after her with a stick of candy, but could not catch her. She called now at all the houses along the road, ringing the bells so furiously that people rushed to the doors, afraid something dreadful had happened.
“I fought you’d want to see my kitty,” said the runaway, holding up the little blind bundle; and they always laughed then; how could they help it?
But somehow nobody thought of sending her home.
When she reached the bridge she was hungry, and told the “bridge-man” she was “fond of cookies.” His wife gave her a caraway-cake shaped like a leaf.
046“I’m fond o’ that one,” said she, with her mouth full. “Please give me two ones.”