The Twin Cousins Part 1

The Twin Cousins.

by Sophie May.

CHAPTER I.

FLAXIE FRIZZLE'S PARTY.

"O Auntie Prim, _may_ I have a party? I'll give you a _thou_-sand kisses if you'll lemme have a party!"

Auntie Prim looked as if one kiss would be more than she could bear. She was standing by the pantry window that opened upon the garden, rolling out pie-crust, and didn't like to be disturbed. She was a very good woman, but she _never_ liked to be disturbed.

"Party?" said she, gazing sternly at Flaxie Frizzle and her little cousin Milly. "Sat.u.r.day morning, and your mother gone, too! I should think this was a queer time for a party!"

Flaxie rolled her ap.r.o.n over at the corners and chewed it.

"Well, 'cause it's my birthday, and my mamma said--"

"Yes, and her grammy said--" Little Milly got as far as this and then stopped. Flaxie was her darling "twin cousin," and she wanted to help her; but that tall lady with the rolling-pin was just dreadful.

"Oh, now I remember," said Mrs. Prim, paring off the dough around the edge of a pie. "Your mother did say, if you were a good girl all the week, you might have a few children here to tea. But _have_ you been a good girl, Mary Gray?" added she, with a look through her spectacles that pierced her little niece to the soul.

"Yes um," replied Flaxie, gazing down at her boots. "Only once, you know, you had to set me on the shelf behind the stove."

"Very true. So you see you _were_ naughty. What did you do?"

"Meddled," said Flaxie in a low voice, with another nibble at her ap.r.o.n.

Mrs. Prim smiled a very small smile, but it was behind her lips, where the children could not see it.

"Well, Mary, perhaps you have been as good as could reasonably be expected under the circ.u.mstances."

Poor little Milly couldn't help feeling as if _she_ were the "circ.u.mstances," or why did those spectacles s.h.i.+ne straight upon her?

"And I suppose you must have the party."

Flaxie gave a scream of delight, and caught Mrs. Prim round the waist.

"O you darling, darling auntie!"

"There, there; don't smother me, or I can't cook your supper. What do you want?"

"Oh, _may_ I have what I want? _Pinnuts_ and peaches, and candy and preserves, and jelly and choclids, and oranges and _everything_?"

"No, you absurd child, not everything; but whatever is most suitable and proper,--if you will only run away out of my sight, you and Milly. But go first and tell your grandmother to send Dora to me."

"Grammy's quilting a quilt, and Dodo's quilting a quilt; but I'll tell 'em to come."

"No, no; I only want Dora."

"That child can't be trusted to do the smallest errand correctly,"

thought Auntie Prim, taking down the cook-book, with a sigh, and looking at the recipes for cake. Her husband was in Canada, and she had kindly offered to spend a month or so at Dr. Gray's while his wife went away for her health. This would have been very pleasant, only Julia went with her mother, and little Flaxie was always troublesome without Julia.

Mrs. Prim had said that morning to Dora that she would go into the pantry and make three apple-pies, for she knew how to make them better than Dora; and then she must finish writing her lecture on Ancient History. And now Flaxie Frizzle had come and asked for a party! Mrs.

Prim was called a "superior woman," and knew more than almost anybody else in town except the minister; but she did think children very trying, and their parties "perfectly absurd." Besides, Flaxie wasn't her own niece.

"O auntie, auntie!" cried the little tease, coming back again, with Milly at her heels, "we've got to go and invite 'em!"

"Certainly; and why don't you go, then?"

"Don' know how; please tell us how," said Flaxie, clutching Mrs. Prim by the skirt, and wis.h.i.+ng there was a hinge in that lady somewhere, so she could bend.

"Don't know how? Just go to the houses, child, and ask the little girls'

mothers."

"O auntie, we don't want the little girls' mothers!"

"No, no; ask the mothers to let their little daughters come here to tea; that's what I mean."

Then Auntie Prim made out a list of ten little girls, for the table would seat twelve, and she wanted the party large enough to please Flaxie. She thought she would make some of her own delicious tarts and a nice sponge roll, and Dora might mix White Mountain cake and boil a tongue. Mrs. Prim meant to be very kind, though she was sure, if she had had any little girls of her own, they would never have had any parties!

"Now, be sure to say I want the children to come early--at half-past two."

"Yes um!" And the little messengers danced out of the house.

"Flaxie," said Mrs. Prim, rapping on the pantry window with the egg-beater, "are you sure you heard what I said?"

"Yes um."

"What time did I set?"

"Ha' pas' two."

"Very well.--And I shall be thankful when it is over," sighed the poor lady, taking down the spice-box.

But wasn't it gay times for the twin cousins, who had all the fun and none of the worry! I wish I were a little girl, just going to have a party, don't you? They didn't stop to look at the beautiful trees, with their bright October leaves, or at the sky, with its soft white clouds; they hopped along, their arms around each other's waist, keeping time to the happy thoughts in their hearts.

"Oh, Milly, aren't you glad you came to my house visiting?"

Milly was very glad to-day; she had not been glad yesterday, when they had the trouble about their dolls.

The first house was General Townsend's; and when Mrs. Townsend came to the door, Milly hid behind a lilac-bush; but Flaxie, who was never afraid of anybody, looked up with her laughing blue eyes, and said, without stopping for 'How d'ye do?'--

"Oh, Mrs. Townsend, I'm goin' to have a party six years old, and mayn't f.a.n.n.y come? Auntie Prim says for the children to come early,--at ha'

pas' two,--and she'll be _thankful_ when it's over."

Mrs. Townsend could not possibly help smiling at this remarkable speech, but she replied that f.a.n.n.y might go.