“So you must,” cried Jasper, enchanted at his success in amusing; “and I'll go with you.”
“Oh, no,” cried Phronsie, shaking her yellow head. “Oh no, Jasper; I must go by my very own self.”
“There Jap, you've caught it,” laughed Percy; while the others screamed at the sight of Jasper's face.
“Oh Phronsie!” cried Polly, turning around at the last words; “how could you!”
“Don't mind it, Polly,” whispered Jasper; “twasn't her fault.”
“Phronsie,” said Mrs. Whitney, smilingly, stooping over the child, “would you like to see a little pussy I have for you?”
But the chubby face didn't look up brightly, as usual: and the next moment, without a bit of warning, Phronsie sprang past them all, even Polly, and flung herself into Mr. King's arms, in a perfect torrent of sobs. “Oh! let's go back!” was all they heard!
“Dear me!” ejaculated the old gentleman, in the utmost amazement; “and such a time as I've had to get her here too!” he added, staring around on the astonished group, none of whom had a word to say.
But Polly stood like a statue! All Jasper's frantic efforts at comfort, utterly failed. To think that Phronsie had left her for any one!—even good Mr. King! The room seemed to buzz, and everything to turn upside down—and just then, she heard another cry—“Oh, I want Polly, I do!”
With a bound, Polly was at Mr. King's side, with her face on his coat, close to the little tear-stained one. The fat, little arms unclasped their hold, and transferred themselves willingly to Polly's neck; and Phronsie hugged up comfortingly to Polly's heart, who poured into her ear all the loving words she had so longed to say.