house," said Dr. Papa, sternly.

"I will keep still," replied Miss Frizzle, in alarm. "I'll keep as still as a possible mouse!"

The ride was a very pleasant one. The bright dandelions were gone long ago; but there were plenty of other flowers by the roadside, and the birds in the trees sang gaily.

"See 'em fly 'way off up! O Dr. Papa, they touch the ceiling of the sky!" said the "possible mouse."

When they reached the city, she wanted to walk the streets by herself, but consented to take her mother's hand. She loved the many-colored windows and the loud noises; but she was happiest of all, when, at five o'clock, her father and mother took her into an eating-saloon, and called for a lunch.

She had never been in such a place before.

"I want some jelly and cake and pie and puddin' and every thing," said Flaxie, as her papa tapped the little bell.

"Dry toast for three; tea for two," said Dr. Gray to the waiter.

"But I want some nuts," whispered Flaxie, ready to cry. She meant doughnuts.

"Toast is all you can have," said Dr. Papa, with one of his stern looks.

But Flaxie was a bold child, as well as a bright one. She had seen her father touch the bell and call a boy, and thought she would do the same, and see what would happen. Out went her little hand, ting-a-ling went the silver bell, and up came the same boy.

"Nuts for one girl!" cried Flaxie, before her father had time to stop her.

The waiter covered his face with his hand, and laughed; Mrs. Gray smiled; and Dr. Gray tried to frown.

"Do let her have at least some jelly, Dr. Papa," pleaded the gentle mother.

"Well, I see you want to spoil her! Yes, let her have some jelly," said her father.

Ninny was sorry to see, the next day, that this ride to New York had done Flaxie Frizzle no good. The fact was, she had caught cold, and was sick again for nearly a week.

"My little sister has been having conjunction of the lungs. I mean she came pretty near it," said Preston to the boys. He always made the most of it when any thing ailed Flaxie; for he was rather ashamed of belonging to such a healthy family.

After this, the little girl was obliged to stay in the house; and of course she made everybody unhappy.

"Why can't I go ou' doors, mamma?"

"Because you have such a cold."

"Wish you never'd been made, mamma!"

"What a naughty, naughty girl," said Ninny.

"It's my mamma's naughty! I'll have to tell her a story," said the child. People told stories to Flaxie when she was naughty; why shouldn't she do the same thing to other people when they were naughty?

"Well," said she, folding her chubby hands, and looking as severe as her father did sometimes,—"Well, once there was a little good girl, and her mother wanted her to stay in the house all the days; and she staid in the house and didn't go ou' doors; and she kep' a-stayin' in the house. And you s'pose what 'came o' that little goorl? She staid in the house, and staid in the house; and in two weeks she di-ed!"

Mrs. Gray turned away suddenly; for Flaxie was spreading her hands and making a grieved lip, as if she pitied the "good goorl;" and it was really too funny.

"See, dear," said Grandma Pressy, "here are some nice summer sweetings in my work-bag. If you'll stay in the house pleasantly, all the morning, you shall have one."

Apples were rare, for it was early in the season, and Flaxie looked delighted.

"I'll stay velly pleasantly," said she, and ran into the kitchen for the chopping-tray, in order to chop up a few of the animals in her Noah's ark and "make some lion hash for breakfast."

But, soon tiring of that, she came back to the sitting-room, and looked wistfully out of the window.

"Gamma," said she, "O gamma, mayn't I have a wormy apple, and go ou' doors?"

Grandma Pressy laughed, and said,—

"I think I know of something that will make you happy, little Mary. You just go into the nursery and see what's there."

Flaxie went at once; and there, on the rug, sat Lena Vigue, fondling a pretty Maltese kitten. Lena was the washerwoman's barefooted daughter; and she had just brought the kitten in an old covered basket.

"O Lena, I didn't know you's here," said Miss Frizzle, dropping her "lion hash" in a chair. "I'm glad you bringed your kitty."

"It's your kitty now," sighed Lena. "I've got to leave it here."

"My kitty?" cried Flaxie, clapping her hands.

"Yes; your mamma asked me to fetch it. She told me she'd give me te-en cents if I'd fetch it," said Lena, who always spoke with a drawl.

Flaxie danced for joy.

"There, I knew you'd be happy now, Flaxie Frizzle," said Ninny, who stood anxiously looking on.

"I hope the kitty'll be happy," sighed Lena, who thought that was far more important. "I hope you'll feed it well; it's used to it," she added, a little proudly.

"O, yes, what do you feed it with?" asked Ninny.

"Sour milk," drawled the little French girl.

"I never heard of sour milk for a cat," said Ninny, when Lena had left; "but perhaps this is a French cat."

"At any rate we'll try sweet milk first," said Mrs. Gray, smiling.

"See, she likes it, mamma," cried Flaxie, stroking the pretty creature. "See her drink it out of her tongue."

Ninny and her mother looked at each other and smiled, as if to say,—

"How glad we both are to have Flaxie happy for a little while."

But it did not last long. Preston, who was always setting traps for rats and mice and foxes, set a dreadful one in the shed, and caught the kitty, which of course had to be killed. Preston was in great distress about it.

"There, Frizzy-me-gig, don't cry. John Piper is going to give me something a great deal better than a kitten."

"What is it? O, what is it?"

"You'll see when I get it."

"Will it be my owny-dony?"

"No-o, not yours exactly; but you may look at it and touch it."

Flaxie was a little comforted; for now she must try to guess what it could be that was better than a kitten.

V.

BETTER THAN A KITTEN.

The next day, Preston and his grandfather rode away after old Slowboy.

"They might have let me gone, too, I should fink," grumbled Flaxie. "What they goin' to get in that basket? Tell me, Ninny."

"Something nice that you never saw before," replied Ninny.

When they came home that night, they brought two things that made Miss Frizzle's eyes dance and sparkle like stars. Curled up together in a soft heap were two beautiful rabbits,—one brown, the other snow-white.

John Piper, a man who had once lived at Mr. Abbott's, had given these rabbits to Preston Gray and Bert Abbott, for their own. It was very kind of him; but he made one mistake—he forgot to say which of the boys should have the white rabbit. The brown one was "very respectable," as Ninny said; but the other was lovely—as plump and white as a snowball, with pink eyes that glowed like gems.

"Poh, who cares which is which?" said Bert.

"I'm sure I don't," said Preston, as he hunted all over the