"Now, then, I have ever so much shopping to do," announced old Mr.
King, briskly, "and I shall want you to help me, Phronsie."
"I'll help you, Grandpapa," promised Phronsie, well pleased, and gravely set herself to the task.
So they wandered away by themselves, having the most blissful of times, and coming home to the hotel, they would gaily relate their adventures; and Phronsie would often carry a little parcel or two, which it was her greatest delight to do; and then the trail of big boxes would follow them as they were sent home to the hotel to tell of their experiences in the shops.
"And Grandpapa is going to get me a new doll," announced Phronsie, on one of these days.
"Do you mean a peasant doll to add to the collection?" asked Polly; for old Mr. King had bought a doll in the national costume in every country in which they had travelled, and they had been packed away, together with the other things as fast as purchased, and sent off home across the sea.
"Yes," said Phronsie. "I do, Polly, and it's to be a most beautiful
French doll—oh!"
And sure enough, Mr. King, who knew exactly what kind of a doll he meant to purchase, and had kept his eyes open for it, stumbled upon it by a piece of rare good luck in a shop where he least expected to find it.
"Oh, may I carry her home, Grandpapa?" begged Phronsie, hanging over the doll in a transport. "Please don't have her shut up in a box—but do let me carry her in my arms."
"Oh, Phronsie, she's too big," objected Mr. King, "and very heavy."
"Oh, Grandpapa, she's not heavy," cried Phronsie, not meaning to contradict, but so anxious not to have her child sent home shut up in a box, that she forgot herself.