Phronsie gave a sharp and sudden cry of distress. "But Mamsie, my Mamsie will be gone!" and then she hid her face in the old gentleman's breast.
"O dear, dear! get a glass of water, Polly," cried Mr. King. "One of you run and open the window. Phronsie, Phronsie—there, child, look up and let me tell you." But Phronsie burrowed yet deeper in the protecting nest, regardless of his spotless linen.
"Polly, speak to her," he cried in despair; "where is she? gone for the water? O dear! Here, Ben, you try. Dear, dear, what a blunderer I am."
"Phronsie," said Ben, leaning over the shaking figure, "you are making
Grandpapa sick."
Up came Phronsie's yellow head. "Oh, Grandpapa!" she wailed, putting out an unsteady little hand, "I didn't mean to, dear Grandpapa, only—only Mamsie will be gone now."
"Bless your heart, you'll have Mamsie more than ever," cried Mr. King heartily. "Here, you children, tell her. Polly, we don't want the water now, she's come to," as Polly came rushing in with a glassful. "Make her understand; I can't."
So Polly, setting down her glass, the others crowding around, took up the task of making the piece of news as delightful as possible, and presently Phronsie came out of her despair, to ask questions.
"Are you really and truly very glad, Polly?" she asked.
"Really and truly I am so glad I don't know what to do," said Polly, kneeling down by the chair-side. "Don't you see we are so much the richer, Phronsie? We have lost nothing, and we gain Dr. Fisher. Dear splendid Dr. Fisher!"
"You've always wanted to repay Dr. Fisher for his kindness," said Mr.
King, "and now's your chance, Polly."