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Updated: June 15, 2025
And before anybody quite knew how it was done, there was the new child sitting on her cricket, and huddled up against the soft folds of Phronsie's white gown, while Phronsie, standing close to the platform edge, began again, "Dear children, you know this is Christmas Day your very own Christmas Day.
Up came Phronsie's yellow head. "Oh, Grandpapa!" she wailed, putting out an unsteady little hand, "I didn't mean to, dear Grandpapa, only only Mamsie will be gone now." "Bless your heart, you'll have Mamsie more than ever," cried Mr. King heartily. "Here, you children, tell her. Polly, we don't want the water now, she's come to," as Polly came rushing in with a glassful.
Polly cleared off the deserted table for once Joel had all the bread and butter he wanted. Ben took some of Phronsie's medicine, and crawled up into the loft, to bed; and quiet settled down on the little household. "Polly," whispered Ben, as she tucked him in, "it'll be hard buckling-to now, for you, but I guess you'll do it."
It was always either 'Polly's mother, or 'Phronsie's mother. Just like a woman," he added, with a mischievous glance at his wife, "not to be explicit." "And just like a man," she retorted, with a happy little laugh, "not to ask for explanations."
The picture that this brought up, of Dunraven without a Christmas, threw such a shadow over Phronsie's face, that Polly hastened to say reassuringly: "Oh, Grandpapa! we wouldn't ever think of not carrying a Christmas to Dunraven, would we, Pet?" and she threw her arms around Phronsie. "Of course not," chimed in Jasper and Joel, in a way to bring back the smiles to the little downcast face.
Polly was on her knees cuddling up Phronsie's toes, and begging to feed her, when she felt her give a shiver, and try to hide her face on her neck. "Don't, Joey," begged Polly. But Joel, not hearing her, and hating to be dictated to by Percy, cried out persistently: "Say, Phron, what were you doing all the morning?" Phronsie at this gave a loud sob. "Take me, Polly," was all she said.
"It surely does look bad," said the old gentleman to himself as he stepped into the cab with Phronsie; "that man's children are a myth. And I wanted to do something for them, for he saved Phronsie's life!"
Polly, running along the upper hall, peered over the railing. "What are you doing, Phronsie, sitting down in the middle of the stairs?" "I'm thinking," said Phronsie, looking up. "Well, I should say!" cried Polly, running down to sit beside her. "Oh, Pet, I've an invite for you." She seized Phronsie's hand and cuddled it in both of her own. "It's perfectly splendid."
"No use to say anything to father when he looks like that," groaned Jasper, when Polly besought him to try his influence, "his blood is up now; he's borne a good deal, you know, Polly." "O dear, dear!" whispered Polly, back again, "just look at Mrs. Chatterton's face, and at poor Phronsie's; can't you do something, Jasper?" "I'm afraid not," said Jasper gloomily.
And just after luncheon, for they must start early in order to have a good long afternoon at Miss Mary's, Polly and Phronsie set forth, the new little bag hanging from Phronsie's arm. Jasper went with them as far as the corner, where he turned off to go to Jack Rutherford's, for the boys were to meet there to write letters for the post office. They had promised to be there bright and early.
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