r. 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 nobody 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 nobody did. People only laughed at her kitty, and then passed 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, "God 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