"I know, child; you think your old Grandpapa does just about right," said Mr. King soothingly, and highly gratified.
"He's ever and always right," said Phronsie, still not moving.
"Bless you, child," cried the old gentleman, much moved, "I wish I could say I believed what you say. But many things in my life might have been bettered."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa," protested Phronsie in a tone of horror, "they couldn't have been better. Don't, Grandpapa, don't!" she caught him around the neck imploringly.
"Well, I won't, child," promised Mr. King, holding her close. "And now, Phronsie, I'll tell you; I'll think of all this that you and I have talked over, and I'll let you know by and by what you ought to do about it, and you mustn't say anything about it to anybody, not to a single soul, child. It shall be just a secret between you and me."
"I won't, Grandpapa," said Phronsie obediently, and patting his broad back with her soft hand.
"And, meantime," said Mr. King, quite satisfied, "why, Charlotte is having pretty good times, I think. Polly is looking out for that."
"Polly is making her have beautiful times," said Phronsie happily, "oh, very beautiful times indeed, Grandpapa."
"I expect she's an awful nuisance," the old gentleman broke out suddenly.
"Oh, Grandpapa!" exclaimed Phronsie, breaking away from him to look into his face.