sometime after this, aunt jane abbott, who was sick with neuralgia, went to new jersey for her health. she took bert and lucy with her; but little rose came to stay with flaxie frizzle. rose was her real name, but sometimes they called her midge, she was so small.
she was a sweet child; and, the first day she came, miss frizzle was so glad to see her that she called for her new tea-set, which stood on the high shelf in the closet, took her best wax doll out of its paper wraps, and held a real jubilee in the nursery.
"o, rosie," said she, dancing around her, "i wish you'd never, never go home again, only just long enough to see your mother, and come right back again to live in this house. 'cause i haven't any little sister, you know, 'cept ninny, and she's big,—'most twelve years old."
"well, my mamma's got the algebra; and i've come to stay a great, long while," said rosa, seating herself at the doll's table,—"all the time mamma and lucy are gone."
"what do you say your mamma's got?"
"algebra."
"you mean new-algery," said flaxie, smiling.
"well, i guess it is," returned meek little rose, passing a wee plate to her cousin. "and now you say to me, 'won't you have some tea, lady?'"
the dolls sat in their chairs and looked on, while the young hostess turned the tea into the cups very gracefully. "ahem," said she, trying to look very grown-up, "does tea 'fect your nerves, mrs. rose?"
"yes'm,—i don' know," replied mrs. rose, puckering her lips to fit the tiny spoon.
"you goin' to piece the meat, and give all as much as each?"
"no, mrs. rose: you may take your fork and put one slice of meat on each doll's plate."
rose obeyed; and then, as nothing else was said, she asked,—
"how is your chillens, mrs. frizzle?"
"all are well that you see here at the table, ma'am; but the rest are down with measles," returned the little lady of the teapot. "will you have some of the fruit, mrs. rose?"
"o, that isn't fyuit," said the small guest; "that's blackb'ry perserves; but we'll make b'lieve it's fyuit. yes'm: thank you, if you please."
"brackberries are fruits," said the correct mrs. frizzle; "and currants are fruits. you can tell 'em just as easy. when anything has seeds to it, then it's a fruit; and, when it hasn't seeds, it's a vegetable."
"o, i thought peaches was fyuits; and peaches hasn't any seeds," said rose, faintly.
"why, you little ignoramus! of course peaches have stones! who ever said they had seeds!"
"i don't like to have you call me niggeramus," said rose, with a quivering lip. "my mamma never said so."
"well, my sister ninny says so; and she studies hist'ry. you don't know what words mean, rosie; you don't go to school!"
"no," said rose, hanging her head, "i haven't never been to school, 'cause mamma says i'm not velly well."
"'fore i'd be a cry-baby, mrs. midge," returned flaxie, enjoying the very humble look on her cousin's face. "you wouldn't dare go to school, 'cause there are cows in the road."
"i'm 'fraid of cows when they have their hooks on," said rosie, still hanging her head.
"i guess everybody knows that. will you please pass the cream-pitcher?"
"it's velly funny queam" said dear little rose, winking away her tears.
"this isn't cream, ma'am; it's condensed milk."
"condemned milk?"
"no: i said condensed, not condemned. you look as if you never saw any before."
"my papa hasn't got a condensed cow," said rose, humbly.
"you goosie, goosie," laughed flaxie. "my papa hasn't got a condensed cow, either; nobody has. you buy this kind of milk at the store. i'm going right into the parlor to tell my mother what you said."
"don't, o, don't," implored little rose.
flaxie knew her young cousin dreaded to be laughed at;—all children dread it;—but, forgetting her manners, and the golden rule, too, she sprang up from the table and ran to the door, little rose creeping after her, all the happiness gone out of her face.
mrs. prim was in the parlor, and it did seem as if she would never be done laughing about that "condensed cow;" but mrs. gray only said,—
"well, well; no wonder the darling didn't know."
sweet, sensitive rose stood in the doorway, looking down at her boots and thinking how silly mrs. prim was, and how unkind her dear cousin flaxie.
"i used to love flaxie," thought she, squeezing back a tear; "but now i wish i could go wight home and stay there. plaguing little girls like me, when i comed to purpose to please her!"
"what are you crying about, you precious?" asked dodo, as the child wandered into the kitchen.
gentle little rose didn't like to tell.
"o, i know," said dodo. "flaxie has got into one of her teasing spells; and, when she does, there's no peace for anybody."
mrs. gray did not talk in that way to rose.
"flaxie loves you dearly, if she is rude. don't mind all the little things she says to you, darling. try to be brave and laugh it off."
"i would laugh, auntie, only it makes my head ache to shake it the leastest speck."
"flaxie," said mrs. gray, taking her little daughter one side, "is this the way you are going to treat your dear cousin? i cannot permit it."
"well, i won't," replied flaxie, quite ashamed of herself; "but she cries so easy, mamma, as easy as a—a—beetle bug."
next morning rosa's head ached harder than ever, and flaxie laughed and danced all the time. rosie did wish she wouldn't be so noisy.
"how sober you are, midge abbott. don't you want me to tell you a story?"
"yes. do, o, do."
what spirit of mischief seized flaxie, just then, to want to frighten rose? she loved her dearly; but she enjoyed making her tremble, she could do it so easily.
"well, there was an old woo-ooman, all skin and bo-one," began flaxie, in a singsong tone.
it was a dreadful, dreadful story, which she had heard tommy winters, a naughty boy, tell, and her mamma had forbidden her ever to repeat it; but she forgot that. she only wanted to see if rose would scream as loud as she herself had screamed on hearing it.
scream? poor rosie fairly shrieked.
"stop! o, do stop," said flaxie.
but rose could not stop.
"there isn't any such woman," said flaxie.
but rose cried all the same.
"there never was such a woman! now won't you stop?"
"o, dear, dear, dear!" sobbed rose.
"there never will be such a woman, you darling. there, now won't you stop? i've told you so over and over, but still you keep crying," said flaxie, in real dismay.
"what's the matter now?" asked ninny, coming into the nursery, and finding rose curled up in a little heap of misery in the corner.
"i don't know what to do with her. i s'pose it's me that's to blame," said flaxie, rather sulkily, though she was very sorry too. "i can't say a single thing but she cries."
"well, you must be kind to her; she isn't used to cross words. her sister lucy is very different from you," said ninny, taking rose into her arms, in a motherly way.
"you blame me, and everybody blames me," growled flaxie; "but i can't say an eeny-teeny thing but she cries."
flaxie kept telling herself rose was a cry-baby; but in her heart she knew it was her own rudeness which had wounded her sensitive little cousin in the first place. she knew rose was the sort of little girl who never could "get over" any thing in a minute, and so ought not to be teased.
"i'll make it up," thought flaxie. "maybe i have been naughty; but i'll make it up."
so, about supper-time, she came along to rose, and very sweetly offered to cut some paper dolls for her.
"now 'twill be all right," thought flaxie; but by that time even paper dolls had lost their charm for rose. there was a settled pain in the little girl's forehead, and her cheeks kept flushing and flushing till they were a deep crimson.
"come, sit in auntie's lap," said mrs. gray, putting down the baby, and a little startled by rosie's quick breathing. "come and tell auntie if darling feels sick anywhere."
"i don't know," moaned little rose; but she seemed very glad to lay her hot face against her aunt's shoulder; and it was not two minutes before she was fast asleep.
"i don't feel quite easy about her," said mrs. gray to her husband, when he came home to supper.
dr. gray felt the child's pulse, and said,—
"perhaps she has taken a sudden cold." he did not like to tell his wife that he was afraid of scarlet fever. but before long she knew it for herself: the symptoms were not to be mistaken.
it was thought at first that flaxie and the baby, who had neither of them had the fever, must be sent away. but the doctor said, "no, there would be danger of their carrying the dreadful disease to others.
"it is better that they should stay at home," said he: "only flaxie must be very sure never to see her sick cousin or go into her room."
"never see rosie! yes, that was what dr. papa said," sobbed flaxie. "o dodo, did he mean never?"
how could dodo tell? how could even poor, white-faced aunt jane tell, who came at once to nurse her darling daughter. she had to wait like all the rest.
do you know how hard it is to wait? do you know how long that week was to flaxie, with the dreary days coming and going, and still no change for the better?
no: you do not know, unless you, too, have had a friend who was very sick.
and the aching that was at flaxie's heart, the yearning she felt to throw her arms round her little cousin's neck and beg forgiveness!
ah! you can not even guess at that unless you, too, have been unkind to a dear friend who may possibly be going to die.
