"My papa hasn't got a condensed cow," said Rose, humbly.
"You goosie, goosie," laughed Flaxie. "My papa hasn't got a condensed cow, either; nobody has. You buy this kind of milk at the store. I'm going right into the parlor to tell my mother what you said."
"Don't, O, don't," implored little Rose.
Flaxie knew her young cousin dreaded to be laughed at;—all children dread it;—but, forgetting her manners, and the Golden Rule, too, she sprang up from the table and ran to the door, little Rose creeping after her, all the happiness gone out of her face.
Mrs. Prim was in the parlor, and it did seem as if she would never be done laughing about that "condensed cow;" but Mrs. Gray only said,—
"Well, well; no wonder the darling didn't know."
Sweet, sensitive Rose stood in the doorway, looking down at her boots and thinking how silly Mrs. Prim was, and how unkind her dear cousin Flaxie.
"I used to love Flaxie," thought she, squeezing back a tear; "but now I wish I could go wight home and stay there. Plaguing little girls like me, when I comed to purpose to please her!"
"What are you crying about, you precious?" asked Dodo, as the child wandered into the kitchen.