Was this our cross Flaxie? Indeed, she was almost as sweet as Ninny—sometimes!
When the day came for going to Shawneetown, where Grandma Hyde lived, Flaxie had got her mumps "all done," and was allowed to ride down in a hack to the "Jennie Howell," and see mamma off.
Little Phil wore a white dress and a soft white cloak, with silk acorns and leaves embroidered all over it; and a white cap with a white cockade set on top of his gold rings of hair. He looked like a prince; and his mother called him, "'Philip, my King.'"
The last thing Flaxie saw him do was to throw kisses at a hen-coop which somebody was putting on board the boat. He thought there were chickens in it, and I suppose there were.
Flaxie looked rather sober as she rode back in the hack with Grandma Curtis. "He never went to Shawtown before," said she; "and he isn't much 'quainted with strangers. I spect I ought to gone with him."
"I spect he'll get along beautifully," replied Grandma Curtis, hugging Flaxie; "but, if you are needed, your mamma can send a dispatch, you know."
She little thought Mrs. Gray would really send a dispatch.
Mrs. Gray and the baby steamed slowly down the Ohio,—very slowly; for the water was so low that in many places you could see the bottom of the river. Once the boat stuck fast for an hour or two on a sand-bar.
"I am glad it is not a snag," thought Mrs. Gray; "that would make me afraid."