Dorothy Dainty's Gay Times Part 12

Reginald heard what Arabella said, and in a loud whisper informed her that he wouldn't go to school if _all_ the girls were like Patricia.

Arabella would have answered him sharply, but they were entering the schoolroom, so she was obliged to be silent.

Later, when they were asked to write upon the little blackboard, Arabella looked for a chance to tease Reginald.

"If he does anything that I can laugh at, I'll laugh till he's mad as a hornet," she whispered.

It happened that Reginald was the first to go to the board.

Aunt Charlotte asked for a sentence which should contain but five words, and yet tell a bit of news.

Every hand was raised.

Dorothy intended to write: "Nancy is a true friend," while Nancy thought that this would be interesting: "Dorothy will have a party," but Reginald felt sure that he had thought of the smartest sentence, and his face beamed with delight when he was told that he might write it.

He glanced toward Arabella as he strutted to the blackboard, and boldly he wrote:

"Phido has a new collar."

It was funny, and Reginald wondered why even Aunt Charlotte looked amused. Every one knew Fido, and only that morning the little dog had followed Reginald and Katie half-way to school, the bell on his new collar tinkling all the way.

That Reginald should have spelled the name "_Phido_" made them laugh, but Arabella was not contented with laughing; she fairly shouted.

"Well, I don't care if you do laugh," he said, his eyes blazing as he looked at her; "you spell photo, just _p-h-o_, and why can't Fido be spelt _P-h-i_?"

When the room was again quiet Aunt Charlotte told Reginald and Arabella to remain for a few moments after school.

When the other pupils had gone, Aunt Charlotte turned toward the two who still kept their seats, and very gently she told Arabella how rude it was to laugh at another's error, and how equally rude for Reginald to reply in so saucy a manner.

"A little girl should be a little lady," she said, "and a small boy should surely be a little gentleman."

Then Reginald spoke.

Looking straight into Arabella's eyes, he said:

"I guess I'm a gentleman, so I'll 'pol'gize; if I was just a boy I _wouldn't_, though." Arabella was fully equal to a reply.

"I'm as much a lady as you are a gentleman, so I'll say I oughtn't to have laughed, but I _won't_ say I'm sorry."

It was late afternoon, and Flossie, on the piazza, waved her hand to her playmates as they ran down the walk to the gate.

They had played delightful games, they had talked of the fine party which they would soon enjoy, they had guessed and guessed what sort of party it was to be, and Dorothy, who knew all about it, had laughed merrily because their countless guesses were nowhere near right.

"I wish playmates didn't ever have to go home," said Flossie, as she ran into the house.

There was no one in the hall save the baby, who sat in her carriage. The maid had just brought her in from a long ride, and had left her for a moment while she chatted with the butler and the cook. Flossie loved the baby, and she ran to the carriage to kiss the sunny little face that smiled at her.

"Oh, you lovely, lovely baby," she cried, "are you glad to see me?"

For answer the little one cooed sweetly, and s.n.a.t.c.hed at Flossie's curling hair.

"Mustn't pull so hard, baby," pleaded Flossie, and just at that moment the maid returned, and rescued Flossie's ringlets from the little dimpled hands.

"You give her to me," said Flossie.

"I'll sit on this rug and hold her. Uncle Harry said I could take this baby any time I want to, and I want to now."

The maid waited for no urging. Here was a chance for a few more moments of gossip. If Miss Flossie wished to take care of the baby, why not permit her to? Her Uncle Harry had given his permission, and as it was his baby, who could object?

For a few moments Flossie and the baby played upon the great hall rug.

The bright-colored ball which Flossie had taken from her pocket was a pretty plaything, and the baby crowed with delight.

The butler and the maids were in the butler's pantry at the rear of the hall, but while their voices could be plainly heard, Flossie noticed nothing which they said until the maid spoke of the baby.

"She ees well, the pet.i.te belle, but upon her cheek the, what ees eet the doctaire did say?"

"Sure, Marie, 'tis a ould-fas.h.i.+oned rash, an' manny's the toime Oive seen ut on a babby's face, an' whoile the docthor makes a fuss about it, it's just nothin' at all, at all," responded Bridget.

"I'm thinkin' it don't pay to let it go an' not have the doctor see about it," growled the butler in a deep ba.s.s voice.

"An' ain't they seein' about it wid all their eyes, the ould docthor a-peekin' at the swate little thing t'rough his goggles, an' puttin' a wee bit t'ermom'ter into her mouth what for I do' 'no' unless 'tis ter foind out if it's near toime fer her ter be a-talkin'."

"He's very ugly, le m'sieur doctaire; if he was fine to behold it would be well. And what said he of the child? That at home she could not remain? If they do away take her M'sieur Harry will weep his fine eyes out."

"Oh, you little Frenchie!" exclaimed the butler with a jolly laugh, "you get things mixed. If it's nothing but a rash, as Bridget says, she'll stay here, but if it's measles she'll be hurried off up-stairs, and--"

"An' be _quarantained_, Oim tould," interrupted Bridget.

"Oh, Breejhay, what _ees_ that?" cried the little French maid, and Flossie waited to hear no more.

_Quarantined_! Oh, what a big word, and what _did_ it mean? Who was going to do _that_ to dear Uncle Harry's baby?

_No_ one! She would not let them!

Quickly she gathered the wee mite in her arms, wrapped the warm little cloak around her, and walking softly to the door, slipped out, the baby nestled close in her arms.

Across the lawn she trudged, past the summer-house, and on to the little clump of trees and shrubs which the children called the grove.

In a little nook between the tall hedge and the shrubbery she sat down, and took the baby on her lap. Fortunately it had no idea of crying; she loved Flossie, and she cooed contentedly.

And now the shadows were long, and the light breeze, growing stronger, swept in little chilly gusts across the treetops, and searching lower, tossed the small shrubs as if trying to discover Flossie's hiding-place.

She drew the baby's cloak closer around it, and bending lower, kissed it, and whispered lovingly:

"You're all safe with me, for I won't let that old doctor _quantine_ you. You're Uncle Harry's own baby, and I won't let anybody hurt you."