Polly drew a relieved breath, and gathering the baby up in her arms, she hurried over to the old gentleman's chair with a "Now when do you want to have the Tree, Phronsie?"
"Must we have it Christmas Day?" asked Phronsie, looking at her anxiously.
"Christmas Day? Dear me, no! Why, what would the Dunraven children do, Phronsie, if you took that day away from them?" cried old Mr. King in astonishment.
Phronsie turned slowly back to him. "I thought perhaps we ought to let
Baby have the Tree Christmas Day," she said.
"No, indeed," again said Mr. King. "Come here, you little scamp," catching the baby out of Polly's hand, to set him on his other knee; "there now, speak up like a man, and tell your sister that you are not particular about the time you have your Tree."
"Ar—goo!" said the Fisher baby.
"That's it," said the old gentleman with approval, while the others shouted. "So now, as long as your brother says so, Phronsie, why, I should have your Tree the day before Christmas."
"Oh, Polly wants to go"—began Jasper.
"Ugh!" cried Polly warningly to him. "Yes, Phronsie; you much better have it the day before, as Grandpapa says."
"And you don't suppose Baby will feel badly afterwards when he gets bigger, and cry because we didn't give him Christmas Day," said Phronsie, "do you, Grandpapa?"