“Go on,” said Jasper, “how did they look?”
“All black,” said the child, pushing back her wavy hair and looking at him, “very all black, Jasper.”
“And their faces, Phronsie?” said Mr. King, getting down on his old knees on the floor beside her. “Bless me! somebody else ask her, I can't talk!”
“How did their faces look, Phronsie, dear?” asked Jasper, taking one of the cold hands in his. “Can't you think?”
“Oh!” said Phronsie—and then she gave a funny little laugh, “two big holes, Jasper, that's all they had!”
“She means they were masked,” whispered Jasper.
“What did you get up for?” Mrs. Whitney asked. “Dear child, what made you get out of bed?”
“Why, my cushion-pin,” said Phronsie looking worried at once. “I couldn't find it, and—”
But just at this, without a bit of warning, Polly tumbled over in a dead faint.
And then it was all confusion again.