was over for the evening.

Flaxie kept her word, and Milly went off next morning half crying; but
little Freddy confided to his mother that _he_ was "glad Flaxie wouldn't
go to school, for the scholars would laugh at her, true as you live."

It was rather dull, all alone with Aunt Charlotte and little Ken, who
was cutting his teeth and cried a great deal; but Flaxie held out for a
whole week. This was fortunate, as it gave time for the greenish color
to fade out of her face, and her own natural pink and white to come back
again as beautiful as ever.

"I guess I _will_ go to school with you, Milly, if you want me to so
much," said she at last one morning, when her cousins had all stopped
teasing her. "I just despise Miss Pike, but I like the one that has the
dropsies, and I want to hear her sing."

Such a hugging and kissing followed this remark that Flaxie felt as if
she had said a very fine thing, and started off with Milly, carrying her
head very high.

The schoolhouse was white, with green blinds, and stood on the bank of
the river, shaded by trees. Burdocks, milkweed, rushes, dandelions, and
buttercups, were sprinkled around, while close down by the river was a
narrow strip of clay bank, very nice to cut into with penknives,--as you
would think if you had seen the pretty images some of the children made
and spread out on boards in the sun.

Inside the schoolhouse it was nice and cool, with a large entry and
recitation-room, and flowers on the desks and tables. The teacher, "that
homely Miss Pike," moved about softly, and spoke in low, sweet tones,
smiling, and showing even white teeth.

"I s'pose her soul will fly right out of her when she dies,--and _that_
won't have a red nose," thought Flaxie, gazing at her with curiosity
mingled with awe.

Somehow there was a happy feeling all over the schoolroom because Miss
Pike was in it, and Flaxie's thoughts grew pleasant, she could not have
told why. But one thing she did know, she wanted to be a good girl,--not
pretty good, but the very best in the world,--that that sweet woman
might love her.

CHAPTER VI.

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.

"Well, darling," said Aunt Charlotte at noon, "you said you went to hear
the singing, and you look as if you had enjoyed it."

"Oh, the singing isn't as good as Miss Pike; she's just the best woman.
Only," added Flaxie regretfully, "I _wish_ I could see her soul,
auntie!"

Mrs. Allen smiled.

"Wait till you know h