"And you didn't see it," said Phronsie, a bit reproachfully, as she gently smoothed the front breadth of mull.
"Forgive me, dear," begged Polly. "Well, what is it, Pet? Do tell me; for I'm dying of curiosity, as the Salisbury girls say."
Phronsie stood up on tiptoe, and achieved Polly's ear.
"Who do you think is coming to-night?" she whispered impressively.
"To-night? Oh, dear me! I can't possibly guess," said Polly, beginning to think that this one evening of all the year held supreme moments for her. "Who is it, Phronsie? do tell me quickly."
"Well," said Phronsie, drawing off to see the surprised delight sure to come on Polly's face, "it's Jasper himself."
"Not Jasper?" exclaimed Polly, quite gone with joy. "Oh, Phronsie
Pepper, you can't mean that?"
"But I do," said Phronsie, forgetting her age, to hop up and down on the rug, "we've a letter while you were at the school, and I wasn't to tell you suddenly, so I put on one of my nice gowns, so you would know."
"But how could I possibly suppose that Jasper would come now," cried
Polly, seizing Phronsie's hands to execute one of the old-time dances.
"Now I almost know he is going to stay over Christmas."
"He is—he is!" cried Phronsie in a little scream; "you've guessed it, Polly. And Mamsie said—she's gone down town with Grandpapa; he's going to get tickets for the concert to-night, so that you can all go together, even if you can't sit together, and she said that"—