"There, there, you're an old darling," said Dodo, "whatever you do."
That was the way Dora's scoldings usually ended; and Flaxie did not mind them in the least. She danced down stairs in a great hurry; for, in the front yard under the trees, her brother Preston and two other boys were swapping jack-knives, and Miss Frizzle always liked to be on the spot when any thing was going on.
The boys all smiled when they saw her coming; and Preston drew her close to his side, and straightened the lace frill in the neck of her dress. He was only eight years old; but he had always felt a great deal of care of his little sister.
"Come here, Miss Frizzle, and I'll put you in my pocket," said Bert Abbott.
"Got some canny in your poggit? If you have, I'll go," responded Flaxie, with a roguish smile.
This was considered such a bright speech that the boys, all three, turned their pockets inside out to see if they had any sweetmeats to offer. Bert Abbott found a broken tart, and Jack Snow a few peanuts. Flaxie took the "pinnuts" with a cool little nod, but the tart was not to her fancy.
"'Cause I don't like pie-grust, and that's because," said she, curling her lip as she looked at the crumbs.
"Guess you don't like 'pinnuts' either," said Jack Snow; for she was dropping the shells down Preston's back and the kernels into the grass.
"Yes, I like 'em; pinnuts is le-licious," replied Flaxie, faintly; but she was beginning to grow rather pale round the mouth.
"Come, boys," said Preston, who had not the slightest idea that any thing ailed his precious sister, "let's go and have our sail. I'll run and get Flaxie's hat."