It was a charming place at Dr. Gray’s, and the house was full of beautiful things, such as Milly did not see at her own home; but that never made her discontented or unhappy. If God gave Flaxie prettier things than He gave her, it was because He thought best to do so, and that was enough for Milly.
“O Aunt Emily, are you glad to see me?” said she, as Mrs. Gray kissed her over and over again.
“Yes, I’m just as glad as I can be, and I wish you were my own little girl,” said Mrs. Gray, who had five children already.
The “little bit-of-est” one was a year old now, and didn’t know Milly at all, but Phil know her and prattled away to her so fast that nobody else could be heard.
That afternoon she and Flaxie were in the stable, feeding Whiz with lumps of sugar, while the dog, Tantra Bogus, capered about them, giving their cheeks a “thou-sand” kisses with his long, loving tongue.
“Stop, Tantra Bogus; now we’ll have to go and wash our faces,” said Flaxie.
As they entered the kitchen by the outside door they met Mrs. Gray standing there talking to Preston.
“Here is a cup of jelly,” said she, “and I’d like to have you take it to Sammy Proudfit.”
This was Wednesday afternoon, and Preston was starting to go about half a mile up town to recite an extra lesson to his teacher, Mr. Garland.
“Oh, you’re coming too, are you?” said he, looking around at Flaxie and Milly, who were skipping along behind him, drawing a handsome doll’s carriage.