"O Flatsie, please don't," she would plead, with her little arms around her friend's neck. "It's such a pretty will! Me velly much obliged."
"Oh, you good-for-nothing, darling little goosie. Let me kiss that snarl of hair. Does your hair ache, Kittyleen, when it is snarled?"
So the scolding generally ended in a kiss, for let Baby Kittyleen do what she would, Flaxie very well knew there was no guile in her tiny heart.
"Do you suppose, mamma, I'll ever grow patient and good, like you and grammy and Miss Pike?" asked Flaxie one night, in a tone of deep discouragement. "I can't keep my patience with Kittyleen when she comes and rubs out my figures on the slate. Why, mamma, I was real naughty to-day, I lost my calm."
"But you do try to be patient, dear, I know you try," said Mrs. Gray.
"Yes, mamma, but I lost my calm," repeated the little girl dolefully. "I ought not to. I ought to do unto Kittyleen as I'd like to have other people do unto Ethel. That's the Golden-Rule way, Julia says. And should I like to have anybody whirl Ethel round by the shoulders and call her a disgustable girl?"
"She is a remarkably sweet child, my daughter. She loves you in spite of everything."
"Well, mamma, I love her, too, only I'd love her better if she didn't always go where she isn't wanted."
"Kittyleen goes everywhere," broke in little Ethel, on a high key. "She goes to church, Kittyleen does. Mayn't I go to church, I won't 'peak a word."