Flaxie had never before seen so beautiful a city, though she had travelled much more than ordinary girls of her age. For days she never tired of looking down from the window of her fourth-story room, upon the clean, white avenue, and watching the horses, carriages, and people passing to and fro. High, high above the heads of the people was a network of telegraph wires glistening in the sun, and Flaxie thought if the wires would only go higher yet, and bind the stars and the earth together, how grand it would be. She called this chamber her "sky-room," and shared it with her "favorite friend," Miss Pike. At the same hotel were Mrs. Garland and Kittyleen, and Kittyleen's cousin Cora, a girl of Flaxie's own age. Truly, as little Ethel had said, Kittyleen did "go everywhere"; but who would have thought of her following the Grays to Washington? But then, this was Mrs. Garland's native city, and she had come here to spend part of the winter, and take lessons in painting.
Kittyleen was just as pretty, and dear, and sweet, as ever,—and just as troublesome. Her room was next Miss Pike's, and of course Miss Pike or Flaxie could not stir without her following them, for Kittyleen adored Flaxie; and besides, her mamma was always busy painting.
She followed them to the Capitol, when they went to look at the statues and pictures; she followed them to the stores, when they went shopping. Little Ethel never cared to go anywhere without her mother, and Phil had some larger boys for playmates; but Kittyleen felt that she belonged to Flaxie. Mrs. Garland laughed, and said she ought to be tied to Flaxie's side by a blue ribbon, like a little Skye terrier.
And here I think I must tell you how Kittyleen went to the White House to the President's reception, where she was as much out of place as a humming-bird in a flock of crows. But it was not the child's fault. Her mother was very thoughtless, or she would not have asked Miss Pike to take her; and Miss Pike had no idea what she was doing, or she would not have consented.
But first I shall be obliged to speak of Flaxie's vanity. You may have observed long ago that she was fond of looking in the glass; and I regret to say the habit still continued. In most respects she was constantly improving; but Doctor Papa said he really feared the nice new clothes she wore at Washington had a bad effect upon her mind. The strange ladies at the hotel sometimes said in her hearing as she passed by, "Who is that pretty little girl? Isn't she lovely?"
This was unfortunate; for now she never went anywhere, and saw people looking at her, but she fancied they were thinking, "Isn't she lovely?" And on the Saturday afternoon when she was going to the President's reception she wished to look as pretty as possible, so that the people at the White House, and perhaps the President himself, might admire her.
"Mamma," said she, "may I wear my crushed-strawberry dress, and my long-button gloves, and my bonnet with the red bird?"