"I know," said Polly, "so it is." Sure enough, a little strip of gold touched up the leaden sky, and spread slowly.
"See, it's turning pink." Mrs. Selwyn's plain, quiet face glowed. "See,
Polly, look at that peak bathed in colour."
Just then a little voice said, "Oh, isn't that beautiful!" And whirling around on her rock, Polly saw little Dr. Fisher staggering along with a big bundle in his arms, out of which was peering Phronsie's face.
Mother Fisher had turned too. "Oh, Adoniram!" was all she said, as
Polly sprang off to meet them.
"Give her to me," cried Tom Selwyn, of course reaching there first, before either Polly or Jasper; and before Dr. Fisher quite knew how, Phronsie was perched on the broad shoulder, and Tom was prancing up the rocky path as easily as if a bird had lighted on his arm.
"She woke up, luckily," said little Dr. Fisher, "and she's bundled up so there isn't a chance of her taking cold. Wife, this is grand!" He gained her side, and drew her hand under the big shawl.
"You've come just in time," cried Polly, skipping around on her rock to the imminent danger of falling on her nose, and varying the exercises by cuddling Phronsie's toes, done up in a big bundle.
"I declare if Papa Fisher hasn't tied them up in one of the blankets," she announced merrily.
"A blanket is just as good as anything when the sunrise is waiting for you," said the little doctor, coolly.
"Isn't it!" cried Polly, back at him, happily. "Oh—oh!"