"I'm going to buy my little girl something," announced Phronsie, looking back where Mamsie still stood upon the step.
"Yes, yes," she said smilingly, as Thomas started up the horses.
"Wait, wait," cried Phronsie, in a tone of great distress, and she leaned out toward Mamsie.
"What is it, child?" said Mrs. Fisher.
And, "Wait a bit, Thomas," called Jasper.
"What's the matter, Phronsie?" asked Polly, leaning over from the opposite seat, where she was ensconced with Mrs. Whitney.
"I want my little purse," said Phronsie, looking down at her empty hands, then up at her in grave reproach.
"Oh, Phronsie, you can take some of my money," began Polly. "We needn't wait for that, need we, Mamsie?" she cried, wrinkling up her forehead impatiently.
"I want my own little purse," said Phronsie decidedly.
"Yes, Mamsie will get it," said Mrs. Fisher; "that is, if Mrs. Whitney can wait." She cast a glance over Polly into the pleasant face above.