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"Well, I won't have her climbing on my fence!" exclaimed Miss Fletcher, half laying down her work and watching Hazel's movements sharply through her spectacles. "There, she's grabbing hold of a picket now!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I'll see to her in quick order." She jumped up and hurried out of the room, and Flossie's tired eyes watched her spare figure as she marched down the garden path.
"I'll order the chocolate for you and have it cooling," for there was more trouble with Flossie's skate and Nan had stopped to help her fix it. "Don't order chocolate for me, Bert!" called Nan. "I want malted milk. The chocolate is too sweet." "Guess you're afraid of your complexion, Sis!" laughed Bert, as he went inside the little wooden house.
At first, after he had cut the rope and let the sheets down on Flossie's head as she was running through the yard, Freddie had been very much frightened. "Well, I'm glad it was no worse," said Mrs. Bobbsey, as she straightened Flossie's hat, which had been knocked to one side. "Now we must hurry, or we'll be late for the train." "Yes, come along!" called Mr. Bobbsey.
Just then Flossie came into the room with her new walking doll, and, not seeing her, Freddie ran into and knocked her over. Flossie sat down quite hard, and for a moment was too surprised to cry. But a moment later, when she saw Freddie's fire engine run over her new doll, which cried out "Mamma!" as if in pain, the tears came into Flossie's eyes.
"Yes, I know," replied Miss Fletcher, turning to her visitor in surprise at so decided an answer from such a source; "but it isn't for us to question what His love is. It's very different from our poor mortal ideas. There's something the matter with poor Flossie's back, and she can't walk. The doctors say it's nervous and perhaps she'll outgrow it; but I think she gets worse all the time."
"What happened?" asked Mr. Bobbsey, while one of the men who stay inside the Monument at the top, to see that no accidents happen, came around to inquire if he could be of any help. "It's Flossie's hat," explained Mrs. Bobbsey. "She was taking it off, as she said the rubber band hurt her, when a puff of wind came along " "And it just blowed my hat right away!" cried Flossie.
There's rather a crowd just now in the other room." He went to her, hardly knowing how he went. "Flossie," he said, "I want to introduce you to Miss Harden." Flossie's eyes brightened with surprise and pleasure; for she had learnt from Mrs. Downey that the visitor was the daughter of Sir Frederick Harden; and Lucia's distinction subdued her from afar.
"We're Spring and Summer," Jeanette answered with a laugh at Flossie's little puzzled face, "I am a rose, and she's a crocus," she continued, "and have you seen Katie Dean yet? She's a lovely butterfly. There she is now." They all turned to look at Katie as she came toward them. She was indeed a dainty butterfly.
Neil could endure a great deal where his personal safety was concerned, and wholly deceived by Flossie's manner, he submitted to the burnt matches, which nearly strangled him, and brought on so violent a fit of coughing as made him fear lest he should burst a blood-vessel. "I guess you are all right as far as the kiss is concerned," Flossie said, nearly bursting with merriment.
"And what the deuce for? What's it got to do with him?" cried Hilary Vance. "She said he was her fiongsay," said Pollyooly, faithfully reproducing Flossie's pronunciation. "Her fiancé?" roared Hilary Vance in accents of the liveliest surprise, dismay, and horror. "Oh, woman! Woman! The faithlessness! The treachery!"
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