: Flaxie Growing Up Flaxie Frizzle Stories by May Sophie Tucker Elizabeth S Illustrator - Conduct of life Juvenile fiction; Girls Conduct of life Juvenile fiction; Friendship Juvenile fiction; Siblings Juvenile fiction; Kindness Juvenile fiction; Grandmother

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PUNISHING ETHEL.

"STOP, Ethel," said Mary Gray authoritatively, "stop this moment, you are skipping notes."

The child obeyed gladly, for music was by no means a passion with her, and she especially disliked practising when Mary's sharp eye was upon her.

"I'm obliged to be severe with you, Ethel, for it never will do to allow you to play carelessly. You are worse than usual this morning, because Kittyleen is waiting in the dining-room. It's very unfortunate that Kittyleen has to come here in your practising hour, and it makes it pretty hard for me; but what do you think or care about that? If you ever learn to play decently, Ethel Gray, 'twill be entirely owing to me, and your teacher says so. There! run off now and play with Kittyleen; but, remember, you'll have to finish your practising this afternoon."

Ethel made her escape, and Mary seated herself in the bay-window at her sewing with a deep sigh of responsibility. Her mother was ill; Julia, the eldest of the family, was confined to her room with headache, and the children had been left in Mary's care this morning with strict charges to obey her.

"The children" were Philip, a boy of eight and a half, and Ethel, a little girl nearly six; but as Phil was now skating on the pond, and Ethel playing dolls in the dining-room with her young friend, Kittyleen Garland, Mary was free to pursue her own thoughts, and her work was soon lying idly in her lap, while she looked out of the window upon the white front yard facing the river.

There was no one in the room with her but her grandmother, who sat knitting in an easy-chair before the glowing coal fire. Grandma Gray did not seem to grow old. Father Time had not stolen away a single one of her precious graces. He had not dimmed her bright eyes or jarred her gentle voice; the wrinkles he had brought were only "ripples," and the gray hair he had given her was like a beautiful silver crown.

Grandma looked up from her knitting; Mary looked up from her sewing. Their eyes met, and they both smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts, my child."

"Oh, I was only thinking, grandma, it does seem as if something might be done to prevent people from calling me Flaxie Frizzle--I'm just worn out with it. It did very well when I was a little child; but now that I'm twelve years old, I ought to be treated with more respect. It's very silly to call people by anything but their real, true names; don't you think so? Oh, here comes the Countess Leonora!" cried Mary in a different tone, dropping her work, breaking her needle, and pricking her finger, all in a second of time.

"Oh, it's only Fanny Townsend, grandma. We have fancy names for each other, we girls, and Fanny's name is Countess Leonora," cried Mary, quite unaware that there was anything "silly" in this, or that grandma was amused by her inconsistent remarks. The dear old lady smiled benevolently as a small figure in a brown cloak rushed in, breathless from running. It was not Fanny Townsend and Mary Gray, it seemed, who began to chat together in the bay-window, but the Countess Leonora, and her friend, Lady Dandelina Tangle. Lady Dandelina was telling the Countess that her mother and sister were ill, and that she was left in charge of the castle.

"Indeed I do, Countess; but young men are obliged to go to college, you know. And I can bear it better because my cousin, Fred Allen, of Hilltop, is with us. He will stay, I don't know how long, and go to school. I only wish it was my sister Milly!"

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