“Is she? Well, I guess I shan’t go to school.”
“Johnny ought not to speak in that way of his dear teacher,” said Aunt Charlotte gravely; “it is not her fault that she is not pretty; and everybody loves her, for she has a beautiful soul.”
“Oh, yes, everybody loves her,” said Master Freddy; “but didn’t Jemmy Glover send her a mean valentine last winter?
‘Old Miss Pike, she’s ninety-nine,
Her hair’s the color of a ball of twine.’“
“If she looks so bad, why don’t she let the doctor take care of her?” asked Flaxie, thoughtfully. “Dr. Papa gives me medicine three times a day, and I’m going to be real white.”
“Oh, Miss Pike isn’t sick; she was born so, and medicine wouldn’t help her any,” said Johnny, trying hard not to laugh at his simple little cousin. “I’ll take you to see her to-morrow.”
Flaxie set her teeth firmly into a cookie, resolving that she would not see such a monster of ugliness, much less go to school to her, not if Johnny should drag her to the schoolhouse by a rope.
After tea she sat on the front doorsteps awhile in Milly’s lap. The little friends had a way of sitting in each other’s lap, and it was a droll sight, as they were just of a size.
“Where’s Lucy, that I made the mittens for?” asked Flaxie.
“Oh, she’s at home, but her sister Hatty goes to school.”