made you?"

"You all went off and left me," replied Flaxie, with a little tempest of
tears.

Then auntie understood it all,--how this child, who was old enough to
know better, had been rolling a little bit of a trouble over and over,
till it had grown into a mountain and almost crushed her. And the
mother-heart in Aunt Charlotte's bosom ached for poor foolish Flaxie.

"She has added to her cold, and is feverish," thought the good lady,
sending for Nancy to bring some hot water in the tin bath-tub that was
used for washing the children.

"I shall have you sleep with me to-night, in the down-stairs room," said
Aunt Charlotte; "and I'll put a flannel round your neck, dear, and some
poultices on your feet."

Flaxie smiled faintly as she saw the dried burdock-leaves soaking in
vinegar, for she liked to have a suitable parade made over her when she
was sick. Besides, she had often thought she should enjoy sleeping in
the "down-stairs room," and was glad now that Uncle Ben happened to be
gone; that is, as glad as she could be of anything. It was a miserable,
forlorn world all of a sudden to Flaxie, and she had never known such "a
mean old night," even if it was "the night before Christmas."

The lamp burning dimly in the corner of the room, on the floor, cast
shadows that frightened her; her head ached; she woke the baby in the
crib by crying, and then he woke everybody else.

It was a "mean old night" to the whole house; and when I say the _whole_
house, I mean both halves of it. About midnight, as Mrs. Hunter was
sleeping sweetly, her door-bell rang a furious peal. Nobody likes to hear
such a sound at dead of night, and Mrs. Hunter trembled a little, for
she was all alone with her children; but she rose and dressed as fast as
possible, and went down-stairs with a lamp.

"Who is it?" she asked, through the keyhole.

"It's ME!" said a childish voice that she thought sounded like one of
the Allen children.

She ventured to open the door, and there on the steps in the darkness
stood Flaxie Frizzle, bareheaded, shivering, and looking terribly
frightened.

"Oh, Mrs. Hunter, something _orful_ has happened at our house. Oh, come
quick, Mrs. Hunter!"

"Yes, yes, dear, I'll go this minute; but what is it?" said the lady,
hurrying to the entry closet for her shawl.

"Auntie is crazy! She is running round and round with the tea-kettle."

Mrs. Hunter stood still with amazement.

"Who sent _you_ here?" said she. "Why d