“I declare,” said Jasper, next day, when they had been laughing and planning till they were all as merry as grigs, “if this old dungeon don't begin to seem a little like 'the little brown house,' Polly.”
“Twon't,” answered Polly, hopping around on one toe, followed by Phronsie, “till mamsie and the boys get here, Jasper King!”
“Well, they'll be here soon,” said Jappy, pleased at Polly's exultation over it, “for we're going to-morrow to do the inviting.”
“And Polly's to write a note to slip into Marian's,” said Mr. King, putting his head in at the door. “And if you want your mother to come, child, why, you'd better mention it as strong as you can.”
“I'm going to write,” said Phronsie, pulling up after a prolonged skip, all out of breath. “I'm going to write, and beg mamsie dear. Then she'll come, I guess.”
“I guess she will,” said Mr. King, looking at her. “You go on, Phronsie, and write; and that letter shall go straight in my coat pocket alone by itself.”
“Shall it?” asked Phronsie, coming up to him, “and nobody will take it out till you give it to mamsie?”
“No, nobody shall touch it,” said the old gentleman, stooping to kiss the upturned face, “till I put it into her own hand.”
“Then,” said Phronsie, in the greatest satisfaction, “I'm going to write this very one minute!” and she marched away to carry her resolve into immediate execution.
Before they got through they had quite a bundle of invitations and pleadings; for each of the three boys insisted on doing his part, so that when they were finally done up in an enormous envelope and put into Mr. King's hands, he told them with a laugh that there was no use for Jappy and himself to go, as those were strong enough to win almost anybody's consent.