"Where's that try-patience?"
It was Dora; she was close by the door. Flaxie threw the vial and the box behind the looking-glass, and answered, in an innocent tone,—
"Here I is!"
Of course she knew Dora meant her; for Dora never, never called anybody else a "try-patience."
"What are you up in this chair for, rummaging round in folks' bureaux?" said Dora, hugging and scolding and shaking her, all in a breath.
"I wasn't doin' nuffin," said guilty little Flaxie, pouting. "If you scold to me, Dodo, I'll make me a naughty little goorl!"
"You're always naughty, without making. There, now, come away: this room is no place for you."
"O, now I know what I camed for," said Flaxie; "it was gampa's hang-ger-fiss."
"O, lor', I found his hang-ger-fiss long ago in the dining-room. Away with you. I want to make the bed."
As Dora spoke, she kissed Flaxie; and I wonder she didn't perceive that the child's breath smelt of medicine.