"So you shall, Phronsie," declared old Mr. King, drawing her off beyond Polly's reach. "There, now you and I will get into this quiet corner," and he sat down and drew Phronsie to his knee. "Now, Pet, so you are glad to get your old Grandpapa home, eh?"
Polly, in an agony at being misunderstood, followed, and without stopping to think, she threw her arms around Phronsie and cried, "O, Phronsie! do trust me, dear, and let Grandpapa go. I must see him now!"
Mr. King gave Polly's burning cheeks a keen glance, then he set Phronsie on the floor abruptly. "Phronsie, see, dear, Polly really needs me. Come, child," and he gathered up Polly's hand into his own, and marched out of the room with her.
"Suppose we go in here," said the old gentleman, "and have our talk," unceremoniously opening the door of Mrs. Higby's best room as he spoke; "nobody is likely to disturb us here."
Polly, not caring where she went, but with the words she must speak weighing heavily on her mind, followed him unsteadily into the parlor, and while he threw open a blind or two to light up the gloom that usually hung over Mrs. Higby's best room, she busied herself trying to think how she should begin.
"There, now, my dear," said Mr. King, coming up to her, and drawing her off to a big haircloth sofa, standing stiffly against the wall, "we will sit down here, and then we can go over it comfortably together and settle what is on your mind," he added, feeling immensely gratified at the impending confidence.
"Grandpapa," cried Polly in desperation, and springing from the sofa, where he had placed her by his side, to stand in front of him, "I don't know where to begin. Oh! do help me." She clasped her hands, and stood the picture of distress, unable to say another word.
"Why, how can I help you to tell me, child," cried old Mr. King in astonishment, "when I don't know in the least what it is you want to say?"
"Oh! I know it," cried Polly, twisting her hands, unable to hold them quite still. "O, dear! what shall I do? Grandpapa, it's just"—
"Well, what, my dear?" asked the old gentleman, and taking one of her hands encouragingly. "Are you afraid of me? Why, Polly!"