Phronsie laid down the note she was writing to Mrs. Fargo, a fortnight later, and said to herself, "I would better do it now, I think," and going out, she went deliberately to old Mr. King's room, and rapped at the door.
"Come in!" called the old gentleman, "come in! Oh, bless me, it's you,
Phronsie!" in pleased surprise.
"Yes, Grandpapa," said Phronsie, coming in and shutting the door carefully, "I came on purpose to see you all alone."
"So you did, dear," said Mr. King, highly gratified, and pushing away his writing table, he held out his hand. "Now, then, Phronsie, you are never going to be too big, you know, to sit on my knee, so hop up now."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa," cried Phronsie in a rapture, "I could never be too big for that," so she perched up as of old on his knee, then she folded her hands and looked gravely in his face.
"Well, my dear, what is it?" asked the old gentleman presently, "you've come to tell me something, I suppose."
"Yes, Grandpapa, I have," said Phronsie decidedly, "and it is most important too, Grandpapa, and oh, I do wish it so much," and she clasped her hands tighter and sighed.
"Well, then, Phronsie, if you want it, I suppose it must be," said Mr. King, quite as a matter of course. "But first, child, tell me what it is," and he stroked her yellow hair.
"Grandpapa," asked Phronsie suddenly, "how much money did Mrs. Chatterton say I was to have?"
"Oh, bless me!" exclaimed Mr. King, with a start. "Why, what makes you ask such a question? Oh, she left you everything she had, Phronsie; a couple of millions or so it is; why?"