FLAXIE'S DOSE.
That summer Grandpa Pressy came to Dr. Gray's, visiting. Flaxie Frizzle
had five grandfathers, but she loved Grandpa Pressy best of all; and he
loved her, too, and called her his "little boy."
Now, the dear old gentleman had a poor memory; and, if he laid down his
newspaper or spectacles, he hardly ever knew where to find them.
"I guess I left my silk handkerchief up stairs," said he, one morning.
"Won't my little boy run up, and get it off the bureau?"
Flaxie went in a moment, but the handkerchief was not there. There
was a silver box on the bureau, though, a very pretty one; and
Flaxie thought she would open it and see what was in it. It was an
old-fashioned snuff-box. Grandpa Pressy did not use snuff, but he
carried his medicines in this box when he went away from home. There
were three kinds of medicine,--cough lozenges, sugar-coated pills, and
a tiny bottle wrapped in cotton-wool, and marked "wine of antimony."
First, Flaxie took out a cough lozenge, and put it on her tongue; but
it was rather fiery, and she said,--
"O, it quackles me."
She would not touch the "candy pills," for she had seen the same sort
before, and knew they were bitter inside; but she picked the vial out
of the cotton-wool, held it up to the light, and thought it looked
"very nice."
"Mayn't I have some, grandpa?" whispered she.
She knew her gampa was not there to hear her: it was a way she had of
talking to herself.
"Mayn't I have some, gampa?" Then she smiled very sweetly, and replied
aloud,--
"Yes, little boy, you _may_ have some."
Ah, Flaxie, Flaxie! To think you should know no better than to meddle
with such dreadful things! The antimony was as poisonous as it could
be; but, if anybody had told you so, you would have swallowed it all
the same, I suppose, you silly little creature!
How much antimony Flaxie took, I'm sure I don't know, but it was a
great deal; and it frightens me now to think of it, for this is a true
story.
"I'm a doctor's chillen; I _mus'_ take mederson," said she, making a
wry face as she found it did not taste at all "nice."
Suddenly a voice called out,--
"Where's that try-patience?"
It was Dora; she was close by the door. Flaxie threw the vial and the
box behind the looking-glass, and answered, in an innocent tone,--
"Here I is!"
Of course she knew Dora meant _her_; for Dora never, never called
anybody else a "try-patience."
"What are you up in this chair for, rummaging round in folks' bureaux?"
said Dora, hugging and scolding and shaking her, all in a breath.
"I wasn't doin' nuffin," said guilty little Flaxie, pouting. "If you
scold to me, Dodo, I'll _make_ me a naughty little goorl!"
"You're always naughty, without _making_. There, now, come away: this
room is no place for you."
"O, now I know what I camed for," said Flaxie; "it was gampa's
hang-ger-fiss."
"O, lor', I found his hang-ger-fiss long ago in the dining-room. Away
with you. I want to make the bed."
As Dora spoke, she kissed Flaxie; and I wonder she didn't perceive that
the child's breath smelt of medicine.
"There, there, you're an old darling," said Dodo, "whatever you do."
That was the way Dora's scoldings usually ended; and Flaxie did not
mind them in the least. She danced down stairs in a great hurry; for,
in the front yard under the trees, her brother Preston and two other
boys were swapping jack-knives, and Miss Frizzle always liked to be on
the spot when any thing was going on.
The boys all smiled when they saw her coming; and Preston drew her
close to his side, and straightened the lace frill in the neck of her
dress. He was only eight years old; but he had always felt a great deal
of care of his little sister.
"Come here, Miss Frizzle, and I'll put you in my pocket," said Bert
Abbott.
"Got some canny in your poggit? If you have, I'll go," responded
Flaxie, with a roguish smile.
This was considered such a bright speech that the boys, all three,
turned their pockets inside out to see if they had any sweetmeats to
offer. Bert Abbott found a broken tart, and Jack Snow a few peanuts.
Flaxie took the "pinnuts" with a cool little nod, but the tart was not
to her fancy.
"'Cause I don't like pie-grust, and _that's_ because," said she,
curling her lip as she looked at the crumbs.
"Guess you don't like 'pinnuts' either," said Jack Snow; for she was
dropping the shells down Preston's back and the kernels into the grass.
"Yes, I like 'em; pinnuts is _le-licious_," replied Flaxie, faintly;
but she was beginning to grow rather pale round the mouth.
"Come, boys," said Preston, who had not the slightest idea that any
thing ailed his precious sister, "let's go and have our sail. I'll run
and get Flaxie's hat."
They called it "sailing;" but it was merely rocking about in the pretty
boat, called the "Trout-fly," which was moored on the bank of the
brook. As the boys did not know how to swim, Dr. Gray never allowed
them to unfasten the boat.
It was a lovely day. The hills were as blue as the sky, and the sky
was as soft as a dream. What harm was there in having a little "sail"
in that black and green "Trout-fly?" Preston thought they were doing a
proper thing, and so they were; but the young passenger they took with
them was soon to give them a world of trouble.
The boys had a pretty good time; but they could not make Flaxie talk:
she said her "teef were tired." There was an anxious look on her face,
and she never once smiled.
"What under the sun ails you?" said Preston, as she threw herself down
in the bottom of the boat, with her head on his feet.
"I don' know," replied Flaxie; for she had no more remembrance of her
dose of poison than a kitten has of its last saucer of cream.
"Are you sleepy?"
"No; but my _eyes_ are."
"Let her go to sleep; don't bother her," said Jack Snow.
"Yes, I shall bother her too. She's real white; and I can't stand it,"
said Preston, stroking her cold cheeks in alarm.
At that Flaxie began to cry. She was not in pain, as she had been when
she got the slate-pencil up her nose; but somehow she felt very unhappy.
"Guess I's goin' to die," sobbed she.
"Why, Flaxie Frizzle Gray, what do you mean by such talk as that? What
do YOU know about dying?"
"O, I know 'bout it; we'll all die some day, mamma said so; guess it's
_some day_ now," gasped Flaxie, mournfully.
"That's not a pretty way to talk," said Bert Abbott. "Here, eat a
raisin, Flaxie, that's a good baby."
Flaxie shut her eyes firmly, and would not touch the raisin. Preston
began to feel uneasy: he had never seen his sister's rosy little face
look like this before. "See here, boys," said he, "let's get out of
this, and I'll carry Flaxie home to mother."
If he could only have done it! But, somehow, before he had fairly got
the child in his arms, she drew away from him and leaned over the stern
of the boat. I suppose she was blind and dizzy; but, at any rate, she
lost her balance and fell head-first into the brook, which was deep
enough, even by the shore, to drown a man. It was done so quickly that
nobody had time to stop her. Jack Snow reached out as far as he could
and clutched the hem of her cambric dress; but it slipped through his
fingers, and the child sank down, down to the very bottom.
"Hullo there!" screamed the boy, as if that could do the least good!
Preston plunged into the water. He did not know how to swim much; but
he never stopped to think of himself, he must save his darling sister.
O, _where_ was she? Why didn't she rise to the surface? He had heard
his father say that people did not drown till they had risen at least
once. Perhaps you, who know of Flaxie's taking poison, can guess why
she did not rise. She had fainted away!
Preston dived, but came up without her. She had gone out of his reach.
When he rose, he said to himself,--
"I'll never go home without my darling sister! If she drowns, I'll
drown!"
"Jump into the boat," screamed the boys. "It's no use; you can't get
her!"
"Yes, I _will_," said Preston, and dived again. That time, without
knowing it, he _almost_ touched Flaxie, lying still as a log, ten feet
below.
When he came up, the boys reached after him and pulled him into the
boat. He struggled with all his might; but it was two against one, and
he could not help himself.
"Oogle, oogle, goggle!" screamed he; for his mouth was so full of water
that he could not speak.
"Pat him on the back," said Jack Snow, always ready with advice.
"Oogle, oogle, oggle, goggle!" cried Preston, striking out both arms,
and determined to dive again; but the boys held him fast. If they had
not held him, he would certainly have drowned, but he could not have
saved Flaxie. He had courage enough, and will enough for a grown man;
but, alas, his strength was only that of a little boy.
And what could be done? Bert Abbott ran up the bank, screaming for
help. Was all the world deaf? If those boys had never prayed before,
they prayed now. "Help us, help us, O God, _won't_ you help us? Send
somebody to save Flaxie!"
It was quite five minutes--so I am told--that the child lay in that
brook before any help came. At last a man, who was going by, heard the
outcry, and thought it sounded like something more than boys' play. He
ran to the spot; and, as he could swim, he soon had Flaxie out of the
water; but, whether dead or alive, that was the question.
There she lay in his arms, as still as a stone. The water dripped from
her beautiful flaxen hair, from the tips of her white fingers, from
her dimpled chin; but not an eyelash stirred, and her little heart had
ceased to beat.
"The poor thing is clean gone, no mistake about that," thought the man,
putting his lips to Flaxie's cold mouth.
"Rub her! Roll her! Run for father!" shouted Preston, flinging himself
upon his lifeless sister, and kissing her wildly.
"Here, boys, you run ahead and get the doctor, and I'll carry her to
the house as quick as I can," said Mr. Bond.
"Don't take on so," added he, soothingly to Preston. "Folks do come to,
sometimes, and live, when they look as far gone as she does."
He said this from the kindness of his heart; but in reality he had
very little hope of Flaxie. Dr. Gray had scarcely any hope either: he
thought she had been in the water too long.
Ever so many men and women worked over the child for hours and hours:
Dr. Papa and mamma among the rest, of course; and even Grandpa Pressy
helped a little, though his hands trembled, and he was very pale. It
did not seem to be of the least use; still, they kept trying.
"O, you dear, beautiful baby," said Mrs. Gray, the tears falling over
her cheeks, "it is so hard to give you up!"
Dr. Papa held his cold little darling, his "Pinky Pearly," to his
heart; but he could not speak a word.
But, just as they were all giving her up, she was seen to breathe,
very, very softly.
"Saved!" whispered Dr. Papa.
"Saved!" echoed mamma.
"Thank God!" said Grandpa Pressy.
How did Preston feel when his dear sister slowly opened her blue eyes?
He would have given his life for her,--was he glad she was saved? Ah,
_was_ he glad, the noble boy?
In a few minutes Dr. Papa knew the whole story: he found out that
Flaxie had been taking poison.
"Now I understand it all," said he. "She fainted away before she fell
into the brook. If she had not fainted she could not have lived so long
under the water."
"Was that what made her lie so still?" asked Preston. "If she had moved
a little I might have pulled her out; but she wouldn't move, and I
couldn't reach her."
"You tried your best, my son," said the doctor, laying his hand on
Preston's head. "It makes me happy to think my little girl has such a
brother!"