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"But it isn't nice," repeated Phronsie deliberately, and quite firmly, "to take Helen now. Why doesn't He make another little girl then for Mrs. Fargo?" and she held Polly with her troubled eyes. "Phronsie" cried Polly; then she stopped abruptly. "Oh, what can I say? I don't know, dearie; it's just this way; we don't know why God does things. But we love him, and we feel it's right.
"Why, Jasper's," said Polly and Ben together; Joel and David coming in as echoes. "You see," said Phronsie distinctly, "that Jasper and dear Grandpapa sent the beautiful things to us." "Mrs. Pepper and Polly and Ben had gotten the Tree ready before," said Jasper hastily. "Oh! didn't I want to be there!" he added. "Yes; Polly almost cried because you couldn't be," said Joel in among the branches.
"Oh-oh!" cried Phronsie, coming to an abrupt pause in the middle of the floor, her cheek paling in excitement. And then she could say no more. "But you must do exactly as I tell you." Mrs. Chatterton leaned forward suddenly, and seized the little hands, now so still in their delight.
Beebe," and she untied Phronsie's sun-bonnet and took off the shawl, David putting his cap down on the counter, keeping a sharp, disapproving eye on Ab'm every minute. "When are you coming for a new pair of shoes?" whispered Mr. Beebe, getting hold of Phronsie and lifting her to his knee. Phronsie thrust out her little foot.
Pepper, remembering how, the day before, Joel, had run down to the brook, and been gone for hours, following along its course, never coming home till dinner-time. "Get Phronsie ready, and Davie and yourself. But I'm sorry for Joey to lose the treat," she said sadly. "So'm I," said Abram's mother, "an' Mis' Beebe'll feel dreadful bad.
And a great dish of pink and white sticks and cunning little biscuits with real butter on them, and a cake, with little round candies sprinkled all over the top. Was there ever such a beautiful birthday party! Phronsie, clinging to good Mr.
"What is a predicament?" asked Phronsie, wrenching her gaze from the lovely vine-clad hills, which she had been viewing with great satisfaction, to look at once into his face. "Oh, a mix-up; a mess generally," answered Grandpapa, not pausing to choose words. "Well, what's to be done, now, that is the question?"
"I didn't bring macaroons," said Cathie, "as I really think that they wouldn't be good for Phronsie. Besides, I've forgotten how to make them, and our cook was cross and said I shouldn't come into her kitchen. But I bought a doll for Phronsie; my mother said it would be a great deal more sensible present," and she hugged the long box under her arm with great satisfaction.
And then Phronsie came running up, and after her came Grandpapa to see that she got there all right. "Oh, Polly, do you see the windmills?" she cried, clapping her small hands. "Yes, Pet," said Polly, looking all along the soft curves of the shore, "there are hundreds of them, aren't there?"
"Now I'm going to make mincemeat of you." "We all know the Muffin Man that lives in Crumpet Lane," sang Polly and Phronsie merrily, out on the grass-plot, as they danced away. "Where is Joel?" cried Polly, as they stopped to take breath. "Just once more," begged Phronsie, pulling her hand; "please, Polly." So down to see the Muffin Man again they danced.
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