“Well, and then you'll want 'em on again tomorrow,” said her mother.
“Oh, no, I won't!” cried Phronsie; “never, no more to-morrow, if I can have 'em to-day; please, mammy dear!”
Mrs. Pepper went to the lowest drawer in the high bureau, and took therefrom a small parcel done up in white tissue paper. Slowly unrolling this before the delighted eyes of the child, who stood patiently waiting, she disclosed the precious red-topped shoes which Phronsie immediately clasped to her bosom.
“My own, very own shoes! whole mine!” she cried, and trudged out into the kitchen to put them on herself.
“Hulloa!” cried Dr. Fisher, coming in about a quarter of an hour later to find her tugging laboriously at the buttons—“new shoes! I declare!”
“My own!” cried Phronsie, sticking out one foot for inspection, where every button was in the wrong button-hole, “and they've got red tops, too!”
“So they have,” said the doctor, getting down on the floor beside her; “beautiful red tops, aren't they?”
“Be-yew-ti-ful,” sang the child delightedly.
“Does Polly have new shoes every day?” asked the doctor in a low voice, pretending to examine the other foot.
Phronsie opened her eyes very wide at this.