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' canny¹, 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, promptly².
 
"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 brook³; 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 crumbs⁴.
 
"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 parlor⁵ 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 slate⁶ and pencil. Mrs. Gray gave them to her; and Flaxie drew pictures for ten minutes,—such pictures! Then the squeaking⁷ stopped, and she began to cry.
 
"What is it, darling?" said mamma.
 
"I've losted my pessle," sobbed⁸ 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 distress⁹.
 
It was true. The pencil was a very short one; and, in poking¹⁰ 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 swelled¹¹. 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 soothed¹² 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 c............