"Candace, come into my 'den' and get a pattern for some new pins I want you to make for me," cried Jasper, desperately dragging her off.
"It's no use to lecture me," said Alexia, sitting straight as Candace's feet shuffled down the hall, and wiping her face exhaustedly. "I know it was dreadful—O dear me! Don't anybody speak to me, or I shall disgrace myself again!"
"Now, Phronsie, what do you suppose we are to do next?"
Phronsie looked up into old Mr. King's face.
"I don't know, Grandpapa," she said wonderingly.
"Well, now, my dear, you've had Punch and Judy, and these nice children," waving his hand to indicate the delegation from the orphan asylum, "have sung beautifully for you. Now what comes next, Phronsie?"
"I don't know, Grandpapa," repeated Phronsie.
"When gifts become burdensome they no longer are kindnesses," said Mr. King. "Now, Phronsie, I have found out—never mind how; little birds, you now, sometimes fly around telling people things they ought to know. Well, I have discovered in some way that my little girl has too many children to care for."
Here Phronsie's brown eyes became very wide.
"And when there are too many children in the nest, Phronsie, why, they have to go out into the world to try their fortunes and make other homes. Now there are so many poor little girls who haven't any children, Phronsie. Think of that, dear; and you have so many."