Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 15, 2025
"O dear me, how could I say anything?" cried Polly, overcome with remorse and patting Phronsie's yellow hair; "but it is so very dreadful. O dear me! Phronsie, there, there, don't cry. O dear me!" Tom's mouth trembled. "It's all right. Granddaddy'll like it," he said. "Oh, Tom Selwyn," gasped Polly, looking up over Phronsie's head, "you don't suppose we'd let that letter go."
"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly; "now we shall wake him up," as they tiptoed around, peering in every cosey corner and behind all the tables for a glimpse of Phronsie's little brown gown. "No danger," said Jasper, with a glance over at the old gentleman; "he's just as fast asleep as can be. Here, Polly, I think she's probably tucked up in here."
None too soon, for Jasper was just skipping down to meet them with the announcement that sister Marion was getting into the carriage; and there on the steps was Mrs. Fisher, with Phronsie's hat in her hand. "Get in, young man," said Jasper, cramming Dick's cap on his head, and he bundled him in unceremoniously, then hopped after himself.
"I said a good many silly things in those days," said Polly meditatively, and smoothing Phronsie's yellow hair that was lying across her lap. "Some silly ones, and a good many wise ones," observed Mother Pepper, over in her little old rocker in the west window, where she used to sit sewing up coats and sacks for the village storekeeper.
Mother Fisher seemed to forget herself, as she bowed her head over Phronsie's yellow hair. "What is the matter, Mamsie?" asked Phronsie. "I wish I could see your face," and she wriggled violently. "Nothing is the matter now," said Mamsie. "There, child, now I'll tell you. If the little girl stays here, she " "She's my little girl," interrupted Phronsie.
Yes, dear, God has taken her home to Heaven." "And left Mrs. Fargo without any little girl?" asked Phronsie, in the same tone. "My dear yes He knows what is best," said poor Mrs. Fisher. The startled look on Phronsie's little face gave way to a grieved expression, that slowly settled on each feature. "Let me get down, Mamsie," she said, quietly, and gently struggling to free herself.
"We didn't ever have new shoes that I can remember," said Joel quickly, "except Phronsie's, and once Ben had a new pair. He had to, because he was the oldest, you know." "Oh!" said Mr. King. "You see," said Phronsie, shaking her head gravely, while she laid one hand on his knee, "we were very poor, Grandpapa dear. Don't you understand?" "Yes, yes, child," said old Mr.
King, starting around to do battle; but the man was just disappearing around the clump of shrubbery. "Which way?" Tom Selwyn dashed up. It didn't seem as if Phronsie's cry had died on her lips. Old Mr. King pointed without a word. And Polly and Jasper were close at hand. Polly flew to Phronsie, who was clinging to Grandpapa's hand, and wailing bitterly. "What is it? Oh! what is it?" cried Polly.
And oh, such a set! Why, it would sell for a lot of money. And I'll ask Jasper to draw you the same kind of bunch of violets on your glove case, and we'll go right down-town, now. I can make Phronsie's bag when I get home. Come on!"
"My sister's gone off with a monkey," explained Joel, bobbing over to the other side, as he thought he caught sight of something pink that he felt sure must be Phronsie's apron. "Stop! stop! there she is!" he roared, and the driver, who had his instructions and was fully in sympathy, pulled up so suddenly that the old gentleman flew over into the opposite seat. "Where?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking