"No, indeed," cried old Mr. King, in his most emphatic way, and bringing his hand heavily down on the table; "not a single person shall hear about it. This is your and my secret, Percy, my boy."
And outside, in a slope of the terrace where it ran down to a tangle of greenery, were Phronsie and little Dick. And they were making great preparations, too, for Rachel's visit on the following day. The great task before them was nothing more nor less than to set up their little stone house in the boulders under the big apple tree.
"I'm going to set up the cupboard," announced little Dick.
"Wait for me, do," begged Phronsie, who was busy in putting the little acorn cups and saucers in fine array on the big, flat stone that served them as a table.
"Well, do hurry, then," said Dick, his fingers twitching to be at their work, "for it's just full of everything." He had pulled out the stone from a hole between the boulders, which, running in quite deeply, had served as a convenient receptacle for certain treasures and accumulations, and was therefore called the cupboard. "We haven't cleaned it out in ever 'n' ever so long, Phronsie."
"Yes, I will hurry," said Phronsie, gently putting the little acorn she held back into its cup. She had a soft little bit of cloth in her hand, with which she first wiped each piece.
"I'm almost through; I haven't but one, two, 'leven more to do."
"Oh, I'll help you," cried Dick, "wash up the dishes," and he turned his back on the cupboard. "Where's another towel?"
"You mustn't break them," said Phronsie gravely, handing him another small portion of cloth, "because you see they're very nice dishes"—and she went back to her own polishing.
"I won't break them," promised little Dick, beginning on an acorn saucer.