And poor Flaxie was obliged to submit, though it cut her to the heart when Milly gave her a light kiss and skipped away; and she did think it was cruel in Aunt Charlotte to advise her to go into the nursery and stay with Nancy and the baby. She wished she had never said a word about her throat.
“It don’t feel any worse’n a mosquito-bite,” thought she, watching the gay party from the window,—half a dozen ladies and as many children; “it don’t hurt me to swallow either,”—swallowing her tears.
“Hilltop’s such a queer place! Not the least speck of steam in the houses! If they had steam, you could go anywhere, if your throat was sore! And I never saw anybody trim a church; and oh, Milly says they’ll have beau-tiful flowers, and crosses, and things! I never saw anybody trim anything—’cept a loaf of cake and flowers on a bonnet.”
Foolish Flaxie, to stand there winking tears into her eyes! You would have known better; you would have gone into the nursery to play with that lovely baby; but there were times, I am sorry to say, when Flaxie really enjoyed being unhappy. So now she stood still, rolling her little trouble over and over, as boys roll a snowball, making it larger and larger, till presently it was as big as a mountain.
“Auntie said I might go, and then she wouldn’t lemme! Made me stay at home to play with that ole baby! He’s squirmy and wigglesome; what do I want to play with him for, when she said I might go? I like good aunties; I don’t like the kind that tell lies.
“Oh, my throat is growing sore, and I’m going off up-stairs to stay in the cold, and get sick, ’cause they ought to keep steam; and then I guess auntie’ll be sorry!”
I grieve to tell you this about Flaxie, for I fear you will not like a little girl who could be so very naughty.
When the happy party of church-trimmers came home at tea-time, there she was up-stairs in the “doleful dumps;” and it was a long while before Milly could coax her down.
When she came at last, her face was a sight to behold—all purple, and spotted, and striped; for a fit of crying always gave her the appearance of measles. She consented to take a seat at table, but ate little, said nothing, and gazed mournfully at her plate.
This distressed Aunt Charlotte, but she asked no questions, and tried to keep Johnny talking, so he would not notice his afflicted little cousin.