“Oh, no, Pet,” said Polly, “you’ve seen them enough; come away, child.”
“But, I haven’t seen them enough, Polly,” contradicted Phronsie, “my dear Mamsie’s dishes, and I want to look at them some more, I do.”
“Don’t you want to hear Polly play on the piano?” asked Jasper. “Come, Phronsie, she’s going to.”
“Is Polly going to play on the piano?” asked Phronsie, her hand dropping down and taking off her gaze from the old cupboard shelves.
“Yes, she is, Phronsie,” said Jasper.
“Then, I want to hear her play very much indeed,” said Phronsie, turning away from the old cupboard, “and I can look at my Mamsie’s dishes to-morrow.”
Joel, who had been clamoring for Polly to hurry and come, now set up a dreadful racket on the old table as he drummed his impatience, “I’m a soldier!” he cried. “Come on, Dave, I’m captain!”
“Oh, hurry, Polly,” cried Jasper, bursting into a laugh, “he won’t stop until you play. Hold up, there, Joe,” he shouted, “Polly’s coming.”
“So I must,” laughed Polly, “or the house will come down.”
“Will the house come down, Polly?” asked little Phronsie, anxiously, as she hurried over clinging to Jasper’s hand.