When Phronsie went to bed that night she clasped Mr. King's new gift to her breast.
"Grandpapa, dear," she said confidingly as they went up the stairs together, "do you know I really think more of this doll, now that the others are gone? Really I do, Grandpapa, and I can take better care of her, because I shall have more time."
"So you will, dear," assented Mr. King. "Well, Phronsie, I think you and I, dear, haven't made a bad day's work."
"I think my children will be happy," said Phronsie with a small sigh, "because you see it's so nice to make good times for their new mothers. And, Grandpapa, I couldn't play with each one more than once a week. I used to try to, but I couldn't, Grandpapa."
"Why didn't you tell me, Phronsie," asked the old gentleman a bit reproachfully as they reached the top step, "how it was, dear? You should have given them away long ago."
"Ah, but," said Phronsie, slowly shaking her head, "I didn't want to give them away before; only just now, Grandpapa, and I think they will be happy. And now I'm going to take this newest one to bed, just as I used to take things to bed years ago, when I was a little girl."
And after all, there was an extension of time for the three boys' vacation, Dr. Marks not getting up from his sudden attack of fever as quickly as was expected. But there came a day at last, when Percy, Van and David bade Joel "good-by."
"It won't be for long," observed that individual cheerfully, "you'll be back in three weeks."
"O dear!" groaned Percy when safe within the coach, "we've ruined all his chances. He certainly will be plucked now—with those three weeks to make up."
Van gathered himself up and leaned forward in his corner.