"Well, dear, if it's ever so funny, Dr. Papa will have to go, for a sick lady wants to see him."
"Did the lady get a pessle up her nose?"
"No, she didn't; but she is very sick for all that. Good-by, pet."
As Dr. Gray went out of the yard, he said to his stable-boy,—
"Crawford, I think the crows are getting too much of that corn we planted. Can't you put up a scarecrow?"
Crawford thought he could, and went into the house to ask Dora for some old clothes.
"I'll tell you what you'd better do, Crawford," said Dora. "Make a little scarecrow, and dress it up like Flaxie Frizzle. I'll get you some of her old clothes."
"That's just the thing," replied Crawford. "Give me her red hood and waterproof, and I'll stuff 'em out with hay. O, my, won't the crows be scared?"
Crawford chuckled to himself all the while he was making this little image; and, when it was done, he carried it out to the corn-field, and fastened it upon a stump.
"Well, it does look exactly like her, and the crows won't know the difference," said he: "only she couldn't keep still to save her life. Guess I'll pin on a veil or something to blow in the wind, as if she was moving."