“Off there.” Phronsie pointed a small finger off into space.
“I see,” said Mrs. Brown, nodding her sunbonnet again. The puckers were beginning to come in her face. Mr. Brown, taking his gaze off from the clouds, looked at her and grinned.
“Well, now let’s see,” said Mrs. Brown reflectively, and with a cold shoulder for the farmer; “Mamsie—”
“Yes.” Phronsie gave another little laugh and wriggled her feet. It was so lovely that they understood her; and she was really on the way to her Mamsie.
“Let’s see—now what road did you say you want to go to git to this—Mamsie?” began the farmer’s wife, smiling encouragingly at her.
“Why, don’t you know?” Phronsie lifted her head suddenly to gaze into Mrs. Brown’s face. “Off there.” Again she pointed to space.
“You keep still.” Mrs. Brown thrust her elbow into the farmer’s side, as she saw his mouth open. “You’re more care than th’ child. I’ll find out—you keep still!”
“Hem!” said Mr. Brown loudly.
“And please have us get to Mamsie soon,” begged Phronsie, beginning to look worried.
“Yes—yes,” Mrs. Brown promised quickly. “Well, now let’s see—how does Mamsie look?” she began.