“Of course not,” said Polly, “Ben wouldn't leave you out, Joey.”
Phronsie sat quite still all this time, on the corner of the table, her feet tucked up under her, and her hands clasped in her lap, and never said a word. But Ben looking up, saw the most grieved expression settling on her face, as the large eyes were fixed in wonder on the faces before her.
“And there's my pet,” he cried in enthusiasm, and reaching over the table, he caught hold of one of the little fat hands. “Why we couldn't think of getting along without her! She shall learn to draw—she shall!”
“Really, Bensie?” said Phronsie, the sunlight breaking all over the gloomy little visage, and setting the brown eyes to dancing. “Real, true, splendid pictures?”
“Yes, the splendidest,” said Ben, “the very splendidest pictures, Phronsie Pepper, you ever saw!”
“Oh!” cried Phronsie; and before any one knew what she was about, she tripped right into the middle of the table, over the papers and everything, and gave a happy little whirl!
“Dear me, Phronsie!” cried Polly catching her up and hugging her; “you mustn't dance on the table.”
“I'm going to learn,” said Phronsie, coming out of Polly's embrace, “to draw whole pictures, all alone by myself—Ben said so!”
“I know it,” said Polly, “and then you shall draw one for mamsie—you shall!”
“I will,” said Phronsie, dreadfully excited; “I'll draw her a cow, and two chickens, Polly, just like Grandma Bascom's!”