“Now that's a good boy,” said Polly encouragingly. “Mamsie will be very glad.” And she ran over to get a towel, dip it in the water basin, and bring it back.
“Oh, that feels so good!” said Joel, with a wintry smile, as she sopped his red eyelids and poor, swollen nose.
“So it must,” said Polly pitifully, “and I'm going to bring the basin here, and do it some more.” Which she did; so that by the time Phronsie was brought downstairs to sleep in Mrs. Fisher's room, Joel was quite presentable.
“Here they come!” announced Polly radiantly, hearing the noise on the stairs, and running back to set the basin and towel in their places. “Now, Joey, you can see for yourself that Phronsie is all right.”
And there she was, perched on Dr. Pennell's shoulder, to be sure, and Mamsie hurrying in to her boy, and everything was just as beautiful as it could be!
“See, Joel, I'm all fixed up nice,” laughed Phronsie from her perch.
SEE, JOEL, I'M ALL FIXED UP NICE, LAUGHED PHRONSIE FROM HER PERCH.
Joel's mouth worked dreadfully, but he saw Mamsie's eyes, so he piped up bravely, “I'm so glad, Phronsie.” It sounded very funnily, for it died away in his throat, and he couldn't have said another word possibly; but Phronsie was sleepy, and didn't notice. And then the doctor said they must go out; so with a last glance at Phronsie, to be sure that she was all right, Joel went off, Polly holding his hand.
The next evening they were all drawn up before the library fire; Polly on the big rug with Joel's head in her lap, his eyes fixed on Phronsie, who was ensconced in an easy-chair, close to which Grandpapa was sitting.