“Why, where—” she said, in the softest little tones, only half awake, “why, Polly, where is it?” and she began to feel all around her pillow to see if it had fallen down there.
But Polly's brown head with its crowd of anticipations and busy plans was away off in dreamland, and she breathed on and on perfectly motionless.
“I guess I better,” said Phronsie to herself, now thoroughly awake, and sitting up in bed, “not wake her up. Poor Polly's tired; I can find it myself, I know I can.”
So she slipped out of bed, and prowling around on the floor, felt all about for the little cushion.
“'Tisn't here, oh, no, it isn't,” she sighed at last, and getting up, she stood still a moment, lost in thought. “Maybe Jane's put it out in the hall,” she said, as a bright thought struck her. “I can get it there,” and out she pattered over the soft carpet to the table at the end of the long hall, where Jane often placed the children's playthings over night. As she was coming back after her fruitless search, she stopped to peep over the balustrade down the fascinating flight of stairs, now so long and dark. Just then a little faint ray of light shot up from below, and met her eyes.
“Why!” she said in gentle surprise, “they're all down-stairs! I guess they're making something for mamsie—I'm going to see.”
So, carefully picking her way over the stairs with her little bare feet, and holding on to the balustrade at every step, she went slowly down, guided by the light, which, as she neared the bottom of the flight, she saw came from the library door.
“Oh, isn't it funny!” and she gave a little happy laugh. “They won't know I'm comin'!” and now the soft little feet went pattering over the thick carpet, until she stood just within the door. There she stopped perfectly still.
Two dark figures, big and powerful, were bending over something that Phronsie couldn't see, between the two big windows. A lantern on the floor flung its rays over them as they were busily occupied; and the firelight from the dying coals made the whole stand out distinctly to the gaze of the motionless little figure.
“Why! what are you doing with my grandpa's things?”