Are you nine years old, and have you ever borne the sting of a bee, or the drawing of a tooth, without uttering a sound? Ah, you have! Then I would like to see you, and shake hands!
Grandma Gray woke presently, and saw Flaxie shaking with sobs, her head buried in the cushion of Uncle Prim's chair. You may be sure she was not long in learning what the matter was, and in calling Kitty from the kitchen to bathe the poor puffed wrist with arnica.
"Ah, thin, and a bee always knows what is swate," said Irish Kate, bathing the wrist softly.
"The blessed little darling!" murmured grandma, not referring, of course, to the bee. "To think you shouldn't have made one bit of noise to disturb your grandmother! I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd screamed with all your might."
"But, grandma, I promised you I wouldn't make a noise."
"So you did, precious child. I forgot that."
"And I promised Auntie Prim I'd stay in this room. Oh, how I did want to go out and scream!"
"Little Mary," said gentle Grandma Gray, taking Flaxie in her arms, "I'm proud of you, my dear!"
"Ah, wasn't it worth all Flaxie had suffered to hear such words as these? When had anybody been proud of her before?"