n ought to suffer for their
naughtiness; it's the only way they can learn to behave better."

"Well, any way," said Flaxie, rolling her eyes uneasily, "'twas Johnny
that put in the stove-pipe, and he ought to feel the worst. I'm going to
ask Preston about that, see 'f I don't."

Two days after this Flaxie went home, and her little frizzled head was
not seen at Hilltop any more till the next December. Then her dear
Grandma Gray had rheumatic fever, and though Flaxie pitied her all she
could, she made too much noise in the house, and had to be sent away.
But I will tell you about that in the next chapter.

CHAPTER VII.

HILLTOP AGAIN.

"Little red riding hood, where are you going?"

"Going to see my grandmother," replied Flaxie Frizzle, peeping out from
under her scarlet hood. "And here's a pat of butter for her in this wee,
wee basket."

"My dear Red Riding Hood, your grandmother is too sick to eat butter.
Shut the door, walk very softly, and bring me my writing-desk. I'm going
to write Aunt Charlotte, and ask her if she wants you at Hilltop."

"Oh, mamma, how elegant! Is it 'cause grandma's sick?" cried Flaxie,
dropping her wee, wee basket, butter and all. She ought to have been
ashamed to find she was so noisy that she had to be sent away from home;
but she never thought about that. She did try to keep still, but as she
had said to Julia that very morning, "there wasn't any still in her!"

"Oh, let me write it myself to Milly; please let me write it myself."

Flaxie was seven years old now, and had actually learned how to scribble
pretty fast. She was very proud of this, for Milly could do nothing but
print.

She seized a postal card, ruled it downhill with a pencil, and wrote on
it a few cramped-up words, huddled close together like dried apples on a
string:

"Dear Twin Little Cousin: My Mamma is going to let me go to your
House and go to school to your Dear teacher, becaus I make too
much noise, and Grammy is sick with Something in her back and Ime
glad but not unless your Mamma is willing. Wont you please to write
and say so. My lines are unstraight, and its real too bad Good by
FLAXIE FRIZZLE."

Mrs. Gray smiled when her little daughter asked how to spell
_unstraight_, and smiled again when she saw the card and read, "Dear
twin little cousin."

"Oh, I know better than that," explained Flaxie, blushing: "we're not
twins a bit, and couldn't be if we should try,