“Yes,” said Polly, “isn't she sweet!”
“Sweet!” said Jasper. “I should think she was!”
The sunlight through an oriel window fell on the childish face and figure, glinting the yellow hair, and lighting up the radiant face, that yet had a tender, loving glance for the two who waited for her below. One little foot was poised, just in the act of stepping down to the next lower stair, and the fat hand grasped the polished railing, expressive of just enough caution to make it truly childish. In after years Jasper never thought of Phronsie without bringing up this picture on that April morning, when Polly and he sat at the foot of the stairs, and looked up and saw it.
“Where's Jap?” called one of the boys; and then there was a clatter out into the hall.
“What are you doing?” and Van came to a full stop of amazement and stared at them.
“Resting,” said Jappy, concisely, “what do you want, Van?”
“I want you,” said Van, “we can't do anything without you, Jappy; you know that.”
“Very well,” said Jasper, getting up. “Come on, Polly, we must go.”
“And Phronsie,” said Van, anxiously, looking up to Phronsie, who had nearly reached them by this time, “we want her, too.”
“Of course,” said Polly, running up and meeting her to give her a hug; “I don't go unless she does.”