Part 12 (1/2)

”It's ME!” said a childish voice that she thought sounded like one of the Allen children.

She ventured to open the door, and there on the steps in the darkness stood Flaxie Frizzle, bareheaded, s.h.i.+vering, and looking terribly frightened.

”Oh, Mrs. Hunter, something _orful_ has happened at our house. Oh, come quick, Mrs. Hunter!”

”Yes, yes, dear, I'll go this minute; but what is it?” said the lady, hurrying to the entry closet for her shawl.

”Auntie is crazy! She is running round and round with the tea-kettle.”

Mrs. Hunter stood still with amazement.

”Who sent _you_ here?” said she. ”Why don't they call the doctor?”

”I don't know. She's going to scald me to death, and I s'pose you know I'm sick,” whined Flaxie, sinking down on the doormat, where the light of the lamp shone full upon her, and Mrs. Hunter saw--what she might have seen before, if she had not been so nervous--that the little girl wore a checked flannel nightie, and her feet were done up in poultices.

Of course she must have come away without any one's knowing it, that cold night, with the snow falling too! It was she that was crazy, instead of Aunt Charlotte.

”How could the child have got out of the house?” thought Mrs. Hunter.

But the question was now, how to get her back again?

”Come, Flaxie,” said she, in a soothing tone, ”let me wrap you up in a shawl and take you home pickaback,--there's a good girl!”

”But I don't want auntie to scald me.”

”She shan't, dear. If she has got the tea-kettle, I'll take it away from her.”

”Honest?” asked Flaxie, piteously.

But she forgot her terror as soon as she was mounted pickaback, and thought herself the ”country cousin” taking a ride on a holder.

All this while everybody in the Allen half of the house was up and hunting for the lost child. Milly was crying bitterly; Johnny had come in from the barn, where he had pulled the hay all over; and Uncle Ben, who had just returned from his journey, was starting out on the street with a lantern.

Just then Mrs. Hunter walked in, and dropped Flaxie into Aunt Charlotte's arms, saying:

”Here, I've brought you a poor sick child.”

Then there was such a commotion that Flaxie was more bewildered than ever, and at sight of Uncle Ben she screamed wildly. It was his coming home about ten minutes before that had frightened her, in the first place, by waking her from a bad dream; and she had slipped out of bed, and out of the open front door, before any one missed her.

”There! there! darling, don't cry,” said Aunt Charlotte, hus.h.i.+ng her in her arms, while Mrs. Hunter heated a blanket.

”I've done something _orful_,” said Flaxie in her auntie's ear. ”I'm so sorry; but I stole a horse and sleigh! _Don't_ tell, auntie! I put 'em behind that door.”

”Well, never mind it, dear; you didn't mean to,” said Aunt Charlotte, smiling in spite of her heavy heart. Then she turned to Uncle Ben, who stood by, looking puzzled, and asked him in a whisper if he ”didn't think he ought to go for the doctor”?

”Oh, by all means,” said Mrs. Hunter, beginning to help him on with his overcoat.

He had hurried home in the night train, on purpose to spend Christmas day with his family, and was really too tired to take a ride of two miles in a snow-storm. But he was not thinking of that; he was thinking how dreadful it was to have his dear little niece sick away from home; and how her papa didn't like the Hilltop doctor,--and perhaps it was best to go three miles farther to the next town after Dr. Pulsifer.

”Yes, go for Dr. Pulsifer,” said Aunt Charlotte, when he asked her about it; ”and be as quick as you can.”