“And the doughnuts,” said Joel; “I liked them best.”
“Well, I didn’t,” said David decidedly; “I liked the pink-and-white sticks best.”
“So did I,” said Joel, “when I was eating them; but the doughnuts lasted longer, so I liked those best.”
“And of course we couldn’t get rights and lefts,” said Polly, “because, you know, Mamsie told us they wouldn’t wear as good; so it seemed as if we never could get Phronsie fitted in all this world.”
“And I couldn’t see any red-topped shoes in all that shop,” declared Ben to the group hanging on every word, “although I walked around and around, and stared at everything with all my eyes.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed all the auditors in great distress.
“No, I couldn’t; and I was just going to give it up, and make up my mind to go home without getting Phronsie any, when don’t you think old Mr. Beebe said—you tell them, Polly, what he said;” and Ben stopped quite tired out.
“No, you tell,” said Polly, delighted to get Ben to talking; and she leaned back and folded her hands restfully.
“Well, he said,” began Ben, seeing that Polly was not really to tell it, “‘I made a pair once for the squire’s little daughter down to the Point; but her ma didn’t take them, ’cause they were too small.’ Well, you can just think how we didn’t dare breathe, for fear they wouldn’t fit.”
“But they did,” cried Phronsie greatly excited; “my dear Mr. Beebe made them fit me, he did.”