It was a beautiful day. The wind blew over the gra.s.s, and the gra.s.s moved in green waves; Flaxie thought it was running away like herself.

It was half a mile to the bridge. By the time she reached Mr. Pratt's store, which was half way, she thought she would stop to rest.

"'Cause he'll give me some candy," said she, and walked right into the store, though it was half full of men,--oh fie! Flaxie Frizzle!

Mr. Jones, a lame man, was sitting next the door, and she walked boldly up to him.

"Mr. _Lame_ Jones, does you want to see my kitty?"

He laughed, and took it in his hands; and another man pinched its tail.

Flaxie screamed out:

"You mustn't hold it by the handle, Mr. Man!"

Then they all laughed more than ever, and clapped their hands; and Mr.

Jones said:

"You're a cunning baby!"

"Well," replied Flaxie, quickly, "what makes you have turn-about feet?"

This wasn't a proper thing to say, and it made Mr. Jones look sober, for he was sorry to have such feet. Mr. Pratt was afraid Flaxie would talk more about them; so he frowned at her and said:

"Good little girls don't run away bare-headed, Miss Frizzle! Is your mamma at home?"

"Guess I'll go now," said Flaxie; "some more folks will want to see my kitty."

Mr. Pratt's boy ran after her with a stick of candy, but could not catch her. She called now at all the houses along the road, ringing the bells so furiously that people rushed to the doors, afraid something dreadful had happened.

"I fought you'd want to see my kitty," said the runaway, holding up the little blind bundle; and they always laughed then; how could they help it?

But somehow n.o.body thought of sending her home.

When she reached the bridge she was hungry, and told the "bridge-man"

she was "fond of cookies." His wife gave her a caraway-cake shaped like a leaf.

"I'm fond o' that one," said she, with her mouth full. "Please give me _two_ ones."

Just fancy it! Begging food at people's houses! Yet her mamma _had_ tried to teach her good manners, little as you may think it.

"I don't believe she has had any supper. It must be she is running away," said the bridge-man's wife, as Flaxie left her door. "I ought to have stopped her; but somebody will, of course."

But n.o.body did. People only laughed at her kitty, and then pa.s.sed on.

Soon the sun set, and the new moon shone white against the blue sky.

Flaxie had often seen the moon, but it looked larger and rounder than this. What ailed it now?

"Oh, I know," said she, "G.o.d has doubled it up."

She had changed her mind, and did not want to go to her grandmother's.

"Mr. Pratt fought I was bare-headed, and grandma'll fink I'm bare-headed. Guess I won't go to g'andma's, kitty, I'll go to preach-man's house; preach-man will want to see you."

On she went till she came to the church. Then she sat down on the big steps, dreadfully tired.

"Oh, my yubbers ache so! Now go s'eep, Kitty; and when you want to wake up, call me, and I'll wake you."

This was the last Flaxie remembered. When the postmaster found her, she was sitting up, fast asleep, with her little tow head against the door, and the kitty in her arms. The kitty was still alive.

Eva Snow had come and let Ninny out of the closet long ago; and lots of people had been hunting ever since for Flaxie Frizzle. When the postmaster and the minister brought her home between them, Mrs. Gray was so very glad that she laughed and cried. Still she thought Flaxie ought to be punished.

"O mamma," said Miss Frizzle next morning, very much surprised to find herself tied by the clothes-line to a k.n.o.b in the bay-window. "The men laughed to me, they did! Mr. Lame Jones, he said I was very cunning!"

But for all that, her mamma did not untie her till afternoon; and then Flaxie promised "honestly," not to run away again.

Would you trust her?

FIVE POUNDS OF CINNAMON.

They don't name girls "Roxy," and "Polly," and "Patty," and "Sally,"

nowadays; but when the little miss who is my heroine was a lady, those short, funny old names were not at all old-fashioned. "Roxy,"

especially, was considered a very sweet name indeed. All these new names, "Eva," and "Ada," and "Sadie," and "Lillie," and the rest of the fanciful "ies" were not in vogue. Then, if a romantic, highflown young mamma wished to give her tiny girl-baby an unusually fine name, she selected such as "Sophronia," "Matilda," "Lucretia," or "Ophelia." In extreme cases, the baby could be called "Victoria Adelaide."

In this instance baby's mother was a plain, quiet woman; and she thought baby's grandmother's name was quite fine enough for baby; and so baby was called "Roxy," and, when she was ten years old, you would have thought little Roxy fully as old-fashioned as her name.

_I think it is her clothes_ that makes her image look so funny as she rises up before me. She herself had brown hair and eyes, and a good country complexion of milk and roses--such a nice complexion, girls! You see she had plenty of bread and milk to eat; and a big chamber, big as the sitting-room down stairs, to sleep in--all windows--and her bed stood, neat and cool, in the middle of the floor; and she had to walk ever so far to get anywhere--it was a respectable little run even out to the barn for the hens' eggs; and it was half a mile to her cousin Hannah's, and it was three quarters to school, and just a mile to the very nearest stick of candy or cl.u.s.ter of raisins. Nuts were a little nearer; for Roxy's father had a n.o.ble b.u.t.ternut orchard, and it was as much a part of the regular farm-work in the fall to gather the "but'nuts" as it was to gather the apples.

Don't you see, now, why she had such a nice complexion? But if you think it don't quite account for such plump, rosy cheeks, why, then, she had to chase ever so many ways for the strawberries. Not a strawberry was raised in common folks' gardens in those days. They grew mostly in farmers' meadows; and very angry those farmers used to be at such girls as Roxy in "strawberry time"--"strawberry time" comes before "mowing,"

you know--for how they did wallow and trample the gra.s.s! Besides, the raspberries and blackberries, instead of being Doolittle Blackcaps, and Kittatinnies, and tied up to nice stakes in civilized little plantations, grew away off upon steep hill-sides, and in the edges of woods, by old logs, and around stumps; and it took at least three girls, and half a day, and a lunch-basket, and torn dresses, and such clambering, and such fun, to get them! _Of course_ Roxy had red cheeks, and a sweet breath, and plump, firm white flesh--_so_ white wherever it wasn't browned by the sunshine.

But otherwise she certainly was old-fashioned, almost quaint. Her hair was braided tight in two long braids, crossed on her neck, and tied with a bit of black thread; there was a pair of precious little blue ribbons in the drawer for Sundays and high days. Roxy's mother would have been awfully shocked at the wavy, flowing hair of you Wide Awake girls, I a.s.sure you!

And Roxy's dress. _You_ never saw a "tow and linen" dress, I dare say.

Roxy's dresses were all "home-made"--not merely cut and sewed at home; but Roxy's father raised the flax in the field north of the house, and Roxy's mother spun the flax and tow into thread upon funny little wheels. Then she colored the thread, part of it indigo blue, and part of "copperas color," and after that wove it into cloth--not just enough for a dress, but enough for two dresses for Roxy, two for herself, and some for the men folks' shirts, besides yards and yards of dreadfully coa.r.s.e cloth for "trousers;" and perhaps there was a fine white piece for sheets and pillowcases. Bless me! how the farmers' wives did work eighty years ago!

And how that "blue and copperas check" did wear, and how it did shine when it was freshly washed and ironed! Only it was made up so ungracefully--just a plain, full skirt, plain, straight waist, and plain straight sleeves. _You_ never saw a dress made so, because children's clothes have been cut pretty and cunning for a great many years. Roxy's dresses were short, and she wore straight, full "pantalets," that came down to the tops of her shoes; for Mrs. Thomas Gildersleeve would have thought it dreadful to allow her daughter to show the shape of her round little legs, as all children do nowadays.

To finish up, Roxy wore a "tie-ap.r.o.n." This was simply a straight breadth of "store calico," gathered upon a band with long ends, and tied round her waist. Very important a little girl felt when allowed to leave off the high ap.r.o.n and don the "tie-ap.r.o.n."

The first day she came to school with it on, her mates would stand one side and look at her. "O, dear! you feel big--don't you?" they would say to her. Maybe she would be obliged to "a.s.sociate by herself" for a day or so, until they became accustomed to the sight of the "tie-ap.r.o.n," or until her own good nature got the better of their envy.

A "slat sun-bonnet," made of calico and pasteboard, completed Roxy's costume on the summer morning of an eventful day in her life. It was drawn just as far on as could be. It hid her face completely. She was pacing along slowly, head bent down, to school. It was only eight o'clock. Why was Roxy so early?

Well, this morning she preferred to be away from her mother. She was "mad" at both her father and mother. "Stingy things!" she said, with a great, angry sob.