“Yes, I think she is quite good,” said Grace, snuggling up to the kind hand; “she didn’t scold me a bit, but she looked so sorry for me, Mrs. King.”
“And Johnny’s just the dearest dear,” said Polly, who always believed him but little short of a cherub; and then she told how he was thrown from the donkey just the week before, but “it didn’t hurt him a bit, and”—
“If you please, Mrs. King, the children are ready to go to bed,” said Katrina, putting her white cap in the door.
“And now I must go to my chicks,” said Polly, getting off the bed. Then she bent over, and set a kiss on the pale cheek. “Don’t you worry about anything,” she said. “I shall ask my sister Phronsie to stay with you.”
“Mrs. King,” cried Grace, nervously clutching the brocade dress, “there is one thing,—if you could keep Aunt Fay from writing this to my mother. Oh, please do, dear Mrs. King!”
“She won’t do it,” said Mrs. King quietly; “don’t be afraid, Grace.”
Grace gave her one look, and relaxed her hold.
“I shall get my Mamsie,” cried a small, determined voice; and Elyot rushed in in his nightgown, followed by Barby in hers, hugging a dilapidated black doll. “Mamsie,” cried Barby, stumbling over to her arms.
“Don’t you go in there,” commanded King, coming last, in his nightgown. “Sister Polly, I couldn’t help it, I came to keep them out.”
“Oh, dear me,” cried Katrina, who had gone back after delivering her message, now hurrying in. “Children, how can you!”