Part 21 (1/2)

”No,” said Phronsie, swallowing the lump in her throat, ”I wouldn't, Grandpapa; I'd much rather know they are having a nice time. I don't want them in here, I truly don't.”

”That's a nice child,” said old Mr. King, approvingly. ”Well, now, we'll see how they make these wonderful Edam cheeses, Phronsie.”

”I shall call this place the Cheesery,” announced Polly, running about between the vats and the big press.

”Oh, Polly, that's a capital name,” said Jasper. ”So shall I call it the 'Cheesery' in my journal. Look at the rows and rows of them, Polly.”

”And how round and yellow they are,” said Polly; ”just like pumpkins, aren't they? Wouldn't it be fine if we could take some home, to send to Badgertown? Dear Mrs. Beebe is so fond of cheese, Jasper.”

”It is a pity; but we couldn't take cheeses very well. Fancy our trunks, Polly!” He wrinkled up his face; at sight of it Polly laughed merrily.

”No, of course not,” she said; ”but oh, how fine they look!”

”Grandpapa, I'd like to buy one,” said Phronsie, overhearing a bit of this, and opening her little bag that hung on her arm, to get her purse.

”What in the world can you do with a Dutch cheese, child?” exclaimed old Mr. King.

”But I would like to buy one,” persisted Phronsie. And after much diving Phronsie produced the little silk purse--”Polly wants one, Grandpapa,” she got up on her tiptoes to whisper confidentially.

”Oh, is that it?” said Mr. King. ”Well, now, Phronsie, I don't really believe Polly wants one. You would better ask her. If she wants one you shall buy it for her.”

So Phronsie ran off. ”Do you, Polly? Do you?” then she gently pulled Polly's sleeve to make her hear, for Polly and Jasper were hanging on the description that the man in attendance was pouring forth.

”Do I what?” cried Polly, only half understanding, and lost in the thought of how much fun it must be to make little yellow cheeses, and set them up in rows to be taken to market.

”--want one of those dear sweet little cheeses?” finished Phronsie.

”Yes, indeed,” answered Polly, bobbing her head, and listening to the man with all her might.

”Yes, she does, Grandpapa,” declared Phronsie, flying back, ”she told me so her very own self.”

”The goodness, she does!” exclaimed old Mr. King, ”Well then, she shall have one. But pick out a small one, Phronsie, the very smallest you can find.”

This was so much a work of time, Phronsie laying aside one selection after another, each yellow cheese looking so much better on comparison, that at last old Mr. King was almost in despair, and counselled the purchase of the last one that Phronsie set her eyes on. But meantime she had spied one on the upper shelf of all.

”There it is, Grandpapa,” she cried, clapping her hands in delight, ”the very littlest of all, and isn't it beautiful, Grandpapa, dear?”

”Indeed it is,” a.s.sented Grandpapa, and he had the man lift it down and do it up; a piece of a Dutch newspaper again doing duty, when Phronsie held out her arms to receive it. ”You can't carry it, child; give it to me. What in the world shall we do with the thing?” all this Grandpapa was uttering in one breath.

”Oh, Grandpapa, dear, I do so want to carry Polly's little yellow cheese,” said Phronsie, the tears beginning to come in her eyes.

Grandpapa, who had taken the round parcel from her arms, looked from it to her with increasing perplexity. ”Have the goodness to put a string around it, will you?” he said to the man who was regarding him stolidly, after satisfying himself that the coin Phronsie had drawn out of her purse and put in his hand was a good one.

”Yah, yah,” said the man, and he brought out of one of his pockets a long piece of thick twine. This with much hard breathing accompanying the work, he proceeded to twist and interlace around the paper containing the little yellow cheese in such a way that when it was completed, Phronsie was carrying what looked like a little net basket, for there was a good strong twine handle sticking up, into which she put her small hand in great satisfaction.

When they all gathered in the living room of the house that had open doors into the cow-house and dairy, all being under one roof, they found a huge pile of photographs displayed of various views of the premises indoors and out.

”But they aren't half as nice as ours will be,” whispered Jasper; ”how many did you take, Polly?”