Just then a loud and quick rap on the table made all the children skip, and stopped everybody's tongue. It came from Mr. King.
“Phronsie,” said he, “come here, child. I can't do anything without you,” and held out his hand. Phronsie immediately left Ben, who was hanging over Polly as if he never meant to let her go out of his sight again, and went directly over to the old gentleman's side.
“Now, then!” He swung her upon his shoulder, where she perched like a little bird, gravely surveying the whole group. One little hand stole around the old gentleman's neck, and patted his cheek softly, which so pleased him that for a minute or two he stood perfectly still so that everybody might see it.
“Now, Phronsie, you must tell all these children so that they'll understand—say everything just as I tell you, mind!”
“I will,” said Phronsie, shaking her small head wisely, “every single thing.”
“Well, then, now begin—”
“Well, then, now begin,” said Phronsie, looking down on the faces with an air as much like Mr. King's as was possible, and finishing up with two or three little nods.
“Oh, no, dear, that isn't it,” cried the old gentleman, “I'll tell you. Say, Phronsie, 'you are all cousins—every one.'”
“You are all cousins—every one,” repeated little Phronsie, simply, shaking her yellow head into the very middle of the group.
“Does she mean it, grandpapa? Does she mean it?” cried Percy, in the greatest excitement.