"But she is such a little thing, hardly more than a baby. I dare say she never dreamed of spoiling your doll. You can't think the child did it on purpose!"
"Of course she did! She's the queerest girl," cried Phil, "can't stay at home, can't let things alone. I think," pursued he, encouraged by the curling of Flaxie's lip—"I think 'twould be a good plan for Kittyleen to go to Heaven! Folks don't want her down here!"
"Stop, my son, that will do! we will not talk any longer on this subject; but Mary, if you please, you may hold some worsted for me to wind."
Mrs. Gray hoped that a night's sleep would soothe her daughter's grief; but the little girl awoke next morning as sorrowful as ever. Dark clouds were still lingering in the wintry sky, and clouds quite as heavy shut all the sunshine out of poor Flaxie's heart. She came down to breakfast weeping, a black scarf over her shoulders and a bow of black ribbon pinned at her throat. She had felt a melancholy desire to "go into mourning," and let the world know that death or worse than death had befallen her "only child."
"What does this mean?" asked Dr. Gray, who had quite forgotten yesterday's tragedy.
Phil spoke for her. He was getting into high favor with his sister by his zeal in espousing her cause.
"Flaxie's little girl is killed dead, and Flaxie is a widow now," said he.
Dr. Gray raised his coffee-cup to his lips to hide a smile. Kittyleen peeped up at the little "widow" with innocent curiosity, but was frowned down severely, and began to cry. Her tears, however, were small and few. She could not possibly grieve much over her own naughtiness, committed so long ago as yesterday; but even if she had been as sorry as she ever knew how to be, the nice buckwheat cakes and syrup would have consoled her.
Mrs. Gray was pained to see that Flaxie still cherished bitter feeling against a child of that tender age.
"My daughter," said she, after breakfast, "if Kittyleen were older and had tried wilfully to destroy your doll and make you unhappy, I should not blame you so much. But just see what a simple, unconscious little thing she is, hardly wiser than your kitten. Don't you feel really ashamed of being angry with her?"