But no! The window had a fly-screen, and besides, Auntie Prim didn't approve of cats. "It's no, no, no, all the time. I don't like Primrose Bower," thought poor Flaxie, dropping her work and stealing on tiptoe to the mantel, to smell the flowers in the bronze vase.
They were lovely roses and lilies, but they looked as if they longed to be out of doors, where they could bend their tired heads. The chairs seemed rather uncomfortable, too, standing up so stiff and straight against the gilded walls. Even the gilded fireboard looked as if it was set in the fireplace very hard, and had no hope of ever coming out.
"Oh, it's so still here, and so shut up! I wish there was something alive in the room," thought the little sewing-girl, going back to her task.
She did not know that close behind her there was something alive—dreadfully alive—a cross, disappointed, hungry bee! How had he got there, into that shut-up room where even the little flies never dared come?
But there he was, and he would not go away without doing mischief. Perhaps he had had some family trouble, which had soured his temper; or perhaps he mistook Flaxie for a new variety of blush rose, of great size and sweetness. At any rate, he flew straight toward her, and without the least ceremony stung her on the wrist. Poor Flaxie! Was it not rather severe? Particularly as she dared not scream. "I must scream, I will scream," she thought in agony; "I will, I will!"
But no. For grandma was fast asleep. She must not wake grandma, though the sky should fall.
"I'll run out-doors. I'll run home to mamma. I must go where I can scream."
But no! She couldn't even go into the entry. Hadn't she promised? And you must know Flaxie belonged to the sort of little girls who hold a promise to be as sacred as the oath of a queen.
So she stayed where she was, and bore the anguish in silence. She could not possibly help hopping up and down, but she hopped softly; she could not help groaning, but she groaned in whispers; she could not keep the tears back, but she sobbed them noiselessly into her handkerchief. I don't know what you think of this, little reader, but I think it was truly grand and heroic.