But Polly couldn't speak; and if Jasper hadn't caught her just in time, she would have tumbled over backward from the stool, Phronsie and all!
“Aren't you glad I've come, Polly?” asked Phronsie, with her little face close to Polly's own.
That brought Polly to. “Oh, Phronsie!” she cried, and strained her to her heart; while the boys crowded around, and plied her with sudden questions.
“Now you'll stay,” cried Van; “say, Polly, won't you.”
“Weren't you awfully surprised?” cried Percy; “say, Polly, awfully?”
“Is her name Phronsie,” put in Dick, unwilling to be left out, and not thinking of anything else to ask.
“Boys,” whispered their mother, warningly, “she can't answer you; just look at her face.”
And to be sure, our Polly's face was a study to behold. All its old sunniness was as nothing to the joy that now transfigured it.
“Oh!” she cried, coming out of her rapture a little, and springing over to Mr. King with Phronsie still in her arms. “Oh, you are the dearest and best Mr. King I ever saw! but how did you make mammy let her come?”
“Isn't he splendid!” cried Jasper in intense pride, swelling up. “Father knew how to do it.”