But three months passed, and Flaxie had forgotten all this. She was always fond of the baby, whose name was Ethel Gray; but sometimes she thought Ethel needn’t cry quite so much, and ought to cut a tooth, and ought to have more hair.
The world looked dark to Flaxie, for she was sick that spring, and a long while getting well. It was a queer sort of illness too. First it made her look yellow and then pea-green, and Julia had to sing and smile a great deal in order to keep her at all comfortable.
“After dandelions, buttercups,
After buttercups, clover;
One blossom follows another one,
Over and over and over!”
sang Julia one evening, when Flaxie was making ready to take her medicine.
“Now, Flaxie dear, swallow it like a lady.”
“Yes. Dr. Papa knows a great deal, and I shall do just as he says,” replied the little girl, grasping her cup of rhubarb tightly in one hand, and a glass of cold water in the other.
It was a comfort to see her take her medicine for once without crying, and Preston shouted “Hurrah!”
She was pea-green at this time, and oh, so cross! For supper she had had three slices of bread and butter, and cried because she couldn’t have the fourth.
“If the poor little thing wasn’t so cross we’d send her to Aunt Charlotte’s for a change,” said Dr. Papa in a low voice to his wife; but Flaxie heard it.