SOPHIE MAY'S BOOKS.
_Any volume sold separately._
=DOTTY DIMPLE SERIES.= Six volumes. Illustrated.
Per vol., 75 cents.
Dotty Dimple at her Grandmother's.
Dotty Dimple at Home.
Dotty Dimple out West.
Dotty Dimple at Play.
Dotty Dimple at School.
Dotty Dimple's Flyaway.
=FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES.= Illust. Per vol., 75 cts.
Flaxie Frizzle.
Doctor Papa.
Little Pitchers.
The Twin Cousins.
Kittyleen.
(_Others in preparation._)
=LITTLE PRUDY STORIES.= Six vols. Handsomely
Illustrated. Per vol., 75 cts.
Little Prudy.
Little Prudy's Sister Susy.
Little Prudy's Captain Horace.
Little Prudy's Story Book.
Little Prudy's Cousin Grace.
Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple.
=LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES.= Six vols.
Illustrated. Per vol., 75 cts.
Little Folks Astray.
Prudy Keeping House.
Aunt Madge's Story.
Little Grandmother.
Little Grandfather.
Miss Thistledown.
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
[Illustration: "I'M A DOCTOR'S CHILLEN; THEY WON'T BITE ME," SAID
FLAXIE. Page 11.]
[Illustration: Flaxie Frizzle
SERIES
By
SOPHIE MAY
ILLUSTRATED
Doctor Papa.
LEE & SHEPARD BOSTON.]
_FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES._
DOCTOR PAPA.
BY
SOPHIE MAY
AUTHOR OF "LITTLE PRUDY STORIES," "DOTTY DIMPLE
STORIES," "LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY STORIES," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED._
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.
COPYRIGHT,
1877,
BY LEE AND SHEPARD.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE SCARECROW SISTER, 9
II. FLAXIE'S DOSE, 20
III. THE KNITTING-WORK PARTY, 36
IV. MAKING FLAXIE HAPPY, 54
V. BETTER THAN A KITTEN, 68
VI. THE STRANGE RIDE, 82
VII. MAKING CALLS, 96
VIII. TEASING MIDGE, 113
IX. THE WEE WHITE ROSE, 127
X. PRESTON'S GOLD DOLLAR, 137
XI. PRESTON KEEPING HOUSE, 158
XII. MRS. PRIM'S STRAWBERRIES, 174
FLAXIE FRIZZLE AND DR. PAPA.
CHAPTER I.
THE SCARECROW SISTER.
One morning little Miss Frizzle danced about her brother Preston, as he
was starting for school, saying,--
"If a little boy had one poggit full o' pinnuts, and one poggit full o'
canny, and one in his hands, how many would he be?"
This was a question in arithmetic; and, though Preston was a large boy,
he could not answer it.
"Answer it yourself," said he, laughing.
"He'd have fousands and fousands--as many as _four hundred_!" said
Flaxie, promptly.
"Shouldn't wonder! What's the need of my going to school, when I have a
little sister at home that knows so much?" cried Preston, kissing her
and hurrying away.
Flaxie wished he and her sister Julia--or Ninny, as she called
her--could stay with her all the time. She was lonesome when they were
both gone; and to-day her mamma said she must not go out of doors
because her throat was sore.
She stood for awhile by the kitchen window, looking at the meadow
behind the house. It was sprinkled all over with dandelions, so bright
and gay that Flaxie fancied they were laughing. _They_ didn't have
sore throats. O, no! they could stay out of doors all day long; and
so could the pretty brook; and so could the dog Rover; and the horses,
Whiz and Slowboy; and the two young colts.
By-and-by the colts came to the kitchen window, which was open, and put
in their noses to ask for something to eat. Flaxie gave them pieces of
bread, which Dora handed her; and they ate them, then ran out their
tongues and licked the window-sill, to be sure to get all the crumbs.
"What if they should bite you!" said Dora.
"O, they won't! I'm a doctor's chillen; they won't bite _me_," said
Flaxie, who was never afraid of any thing or anybody.
"Well, you mustn't keep that window open any longer. You'll get cold,
if you _are_ a doctor's children," said Dora. "Run into the parlor to
your mother. Why, you haven't seen her for an hour."
Flaxie was not at all anxious to see her mother, but ran into the
parlor and called for a slate and pencil. Mrs. Gray gave them to her;
and Flaxie drew pictures for ten minutes,--such pictures! Then the
squeaking stopped, and she began to cry.
"What is it, darling?" said mamma.
"I've losted my _pessle_," sobbed Flaxie.
"O, well, I'll get you another. Don't cry."
"I've losted it _up my nose_," screamed the child, running to her
mother in great distress.
It was true. The pencil was a very short one; and, in poking it into
her nose, just for fun, she had pushed it too far, and it would not
come out. Mrs. Gray tried her very best; but the harder she tried
the further up went the pencil, and the more Flaxie's nose bled and
swelled. It was growing worse every minute; and Mrs. Gray, not knowing
what else to do, called Dora from the kitchen and sent her for "Dr.
Papa."
When Flaxie knew her father was sent for, she cried louder than ever;
for she thought she must be dreadfully hurt.
"Is I a-goin' to die?" said she. "I wouldn't die for fi-ive dollars!"
"No, indeed, pet, you won't die. Dr. Papa will make you all well in two
minutes."
"Will he? O, dear, my nose is _so_ sick! Kiss it, mamma!"
Mamma kissed the poor purple little nose, which helped Flaxie very
much; but she burst out afresh, next moment. "How bad Dr. Papa'll feel
when he comes home!"
Her mother soothed her; but soon she fell to crying again.
"How _Ninny_'ll feel when _she_ comes home!"
Mrs. Gray comforted her for this with more kisses; but presently Flaxie
sobbed out once more,--
"How _Pesson_ will feel when _he_ comes home!"
For the child truly believed her friends would grieve more about it
than she did.
Dr. Papa hurried to his darling as fast as he could; but, by the time
he got home, her nose was badly swelled, and he had to hurt her very
much in order to get out the "pessle." When it was all over, he took
her on his knee, and tried to make her forget her troubles by showing
her some pictures.
"The man in this picture is a school-teacher," said he; "and the little
boy who stands by his desk must have been naughty, for the teacher is
going to whip him with that stick."
"Goin' to w'ip him? Well, I'll wait and _see_ if he w'ips him," said
Flaxie, folding her hands and staring at the picture with all her might.
Dr. Papa laughed. He often laughed at what Flaxie said; and Mrs. Prim,
a lady who lived in town, thought he "spoiled her." Perhaps he did.
"O, see the pretty chickies," said the child, as her father turned to
another picture. "Does God make chickies?"
"Certainly."
"Well," said she, thoughtfully, "how they must have _hollered_ when he
stuck the fedders in!"
I must confess Dr. Papa laughed again. Then he put Flaxie down, and
said he must go, though she held him by the vest-buttons, and declared
the next picture would be "awful funny."
"How do you know?"
"O, I _guess_ it will!"
"Well, dear, if it's ever so funny, Dr. Papa will have to go, for a
sick lady wants to see him."
"Did the lady get a pessle up _her_ nose?"
"No, she didn't; but she is very sick for all that. Good-by, pet."
As Dr. Gray went out of the yard, he said to his stable-boy,--
"Crawford, I think the crows are getting too much of that corn we
planted. Can't you put up a scarecrow?"
Crawford thought he could, and went into the house to ask Dora for some
old clothes.
"I'll tell you what you'd better do, Crawford," said Dora. "Make a
_little_ scarecrow, and dress it up like Flaxie Frizzle. I'll get you
some of her old clothes."
"That's just the thing," replied Crawford. "Give me her red hood and
waterproof, and I'll stuff 'em out with hay. O, my, won't the crows be
scared?"
Crawford chuckled to himself all the while he was making this little
image; and, when it was done, he carried it out to the corn-field, and
fastened it upon a stump.
"Well, it does look exactly like her, and the crows won't know the
difference," said he: "only she couldn't keep still to save her life.
Guess I'll pin on a veil or something to blow in the wind, as if she
was moving."
Dora gave him an old red scarf; and it certainly did make the image
look very much as if it were alive. People who rode by turned to gaze
at it, and said,--
"There's the doctor's baby. I'm glad her mother has wrapped her up so
well: it's pretty cold weather for this time of year."
But you must know Flaxie Frizzle was surprised when _she_ saw the
scarecrow! She had climbed the sofa, and was looking out of the window.
What did she see, standing there in the corn-field? It was her own
self! She rubbed her eyes, and looked again.
"O mamma, mamma," called she. "Come here _just_ as kick! You s'pose,
mamma, who's playing _coop_ out there? It's ME! And _here's_ ME, right
here! Have I got a little sister?"
It was some time before she could be made to understand that the
scarecrow was not herself, was not alive, and was only a rag-baby made
of sticks and straw and old clothes. The next day it rained from
morning till night; and everybody who went by the house thought it too
bad that poor Flaxie Frizzle should be in the corn-field, getting so
wet.
At least a dozen times the door-bell rang; and a dozen people told Dora
to be sure and let Mrs. Gray know her baby was out in the rain!
Dora laughed, and assured the kind people that "_that_ baby in the
field was neither sugar nor salt, and water wouldn't hurt her a grain."
But she told Crawford "it did her good to see how much the neighbors
thought of Flaxie Frizzle, for all she was such a curious-acting child."
"And, Crawford, you'll have to take down that 'scarecrow sister,' and
put up something else; for I can't spend my time running to the door to
explain to folks that it isn't Flaxie Frizzle."