Charlotte brought her head up suddenly. Both cheeks were very red, and her lips were pressed tightly together.
“Charlotte!” exclaimed Phronsie with a sudden fear; “are you sick?”
“No,” said Charlotte explosively; “but I am afraid I shall say something I ought not. O Phronsie, if I only could help you!”
“You can,” said Phronsie quietly. “And O Charlotte! I am so glad you are not sick;” and she gave a relieved sigh.
“I can’t be any help to anybody,” declared Charlotte, “except to work. I can work, if there’s anything to do, Phronsie; but as for influencing any one, or helping them to believe anything, I’m good for nothing.”
“Charlotte,” said Phronsie affectionately, “you help me ever and ever so much. And so you do help every one of us. And I will tell you what you can do for me now. Will you sing to me, Charlotte, just those soft little things you used to, and hold my hand; and I shall go to sleep.”
So Charlotte grasped the edge of the sofa tightly with one hand while Phronsie held the other; and sitting there on the floor, she sang over and over the things that she knew Phronsie wanted.
“Charlotte is singing to Phronsie,” cried David, rushing into Grandpapa’s room, where Polly and Jasper sat with old Mr. King. “Mamsie said I was to tell you, Polly, so you needn’t worry, for now she will go to sleep.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
DESTRUCTION THREATENS THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE.
“NOW,” said Mr. Tisbett, “see here, young man, ef you’re a-goin’ to ride along with me, you’ve jest got to set still. My senses, that ma of yourn would give me fits ef anythin’ was to happen to you; though why she should, I don’t see.”