They waited perhaps fifteen minutes; and all the while the people behind could not stand still, but kept pushing.
"Don't they know we can't move? Why do they push?" grumbled Flaxie, indignantly. "Do tell them to keep still, mamma; tell the people behind to keep still."
Mrs. Gray only laughed.
"Mamma, they don't obey the Golden Rule, or they wouldn't push so and hurt." Flaxie was always talking about the Golden Rule.
"My daughter, we are here and must bear it. Try to be brave and not cry."
"Oh, mamma, I don't mean to cry; but they squeeze so hard that they squeeze the tears right out of my eyes. I just know I shall die!"
Flaxie's wail was piteous, indeed; but it was little Kittyleen—ever so much shorter and younger and frailer; dear, patient Kittyleen—who was in far more danger of being hurt. She must have been almost suffocated by this time, for absolutely nothing, not even the crown of her bonnet, was to be seen. In real alarm Miss Pike exclaimed, "How shall I get this child up to give her some air?"
"What, a little child here? Can't you lift her up, ma'am, and set her on my shoulder?" said a gentleman just ahead.
Mrs. Gray and Miss Pike plunged down for Kittyleen, and succeeded in drawing her up from her dangerous hiding-place among the cloaks and skirts, and setting her aloft upon the kind stranger's shoulders. She gave several little shuddering gasps, and her eyes were full of tears; but when Miss Pike asked, "Darling, how do you feel now?" she answered, with a pathetic little smile,—