Part 1 (2/2)

”Then,” said Phronsie, as Polly put her down, and stood breathless after her last glorious spin, ”I do so wish we might, Polly; oh, just this very one minute!”

And Phronsie clasped her fat little hands in rapture at the thought.

”Well,” said Polly, giving a look up at the old clock in the corner; ”deary me! it's half-past five; and most time for Ben to come home!”

Away she flew to get supper. So for the next few moments nothing was heard but the pulling out of the old table into the middle of the floor, the laying the cloth, and all the other bustle attendant upon the being ready for Ben. Polly went skipping around, cutting the bread, and bringing dishes; only stopping long enough to fling some sc.r.a.ps of rea.s.suring nonsense to the two boys, who were thoroughly dismayed at being obliged to remove their traps into a corner.

Phronsie still stood just where Polly left her. Two hundred candles! oh!

what could it mean! She gazed up to the old beams overhead, and around the dingy walls, and to the old black stove, with the fire nearly out, and then over everything the kitchen contained, trying to think how it would seem. To have it bright and winsome and warm! to suit Polly--”oh!”

she screamed.

”Goodness!” said Polly, taking her head out of the old cupboard in the corner, ”how you scared me, Phronsie!”

”Would they ever go out?” asked the child gravely, still standing where Polly left her.

”What?” asked Polly, stopping with a dish of cold potatoes in her hand.

”What, Phronsie?”

”Why, the candles,” said the child, ”the ever-an'-ever so many pretty lights!”

”Oh, my senses!” cried Polly, with a little laugh, ”haven't you forgotten that! Yes--no, that is, Phronsie, if we could have 'em at all, we wouldn't ever let 'em go out!”

”Not once?” asked Phronsie, coming up to Polly with a little skip, and nearly upsetting her, potatoes and all--”not once, Polly, truly?”

”No, not forever-an'-ever,” said Polly; ”take care, Phronsie! there goes a potato; no, we'd keep 'em always!”

”No, you don't want to,” said Mrs. Pepper, coming out of the bedroom in time to catch the last words; ”they won't be good to-morrow; better have them to-night, Polly.”

”Ma'am!” said Polly, setting down her potato-dish on the table, and staring at her mother with all her might--”have what, mother?”

”Why, the potatoes, to be sure,” replied Mrs. Pepper; ”didn't you say you better keep them, child?”

”Twasn't potatoes--at all,” said Polly, with a little gasp; ”twas--dear me! here's Ben!” For the door opened, and Phronsie, with a scream of delight, bounded into Ben's arms.

”It's just jolly,” said Ben, coming in, his chubby face all aglow, and his big blue eyes s.h.i.+ning so honest and true; ”it's just jolly to get home! supper ready, Polly?”

”Yes,” said Polly; ”that is--all but--” and she dashed off for Phronsie's eating ap.r.o.n.

”Sometime,” said Phronsie, with her mouth half full, when the meal was nearly over, ”we're going to be awful rich; we are, Ben, truly!”

”No?” said Ben, affecting the most hearty astonishment; ”you don't say so, Chick!”

”Yes,” said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head very wisely at him, and diving down into her cup of very weak milk and water to see if Polly had put any sugar in by mistake--a proceeding always expectantly observed.

”Yes, we are really, Bensie, very dreadful rich!”

”I wish we could be rich now, then,” said Ben, taking another generous slice of the brown bread; ”in time for mamsie's birthday,” and he cast a sorrowful glance at Polly.

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