Part 20 (1/2)

Polly put her hand in his, and received a hearty shake; and then she sprang over the big stove, dish-cloth and all, and just flung her arms around the dog's neck.

”Oh, you splendid fellow, you!” said she. ”Don't you know we all think you're as good as gold?”

The dog submitted to the astonis.h.i.+ng proceeding as if he liked it, while Jasper, delighted with Polly's appreciation, beamed down on them, and struck up friends.h.i.+p with her on the instant.

”Now, I must call Phronsie,” said Polly, getting up, her face as red as a rose.

”Is her name Phronsie?” asked the boy with interest.

”No, it's Sophronia,” said Polly, ”but we call her Phronsie.”

”What a very funny name,” said Jasper, ”Sophronia is, for such a little thing--and yours is Polly, is it not?” he asked, turning around suddenly on her.

”Yes,” said Polly; ”no, not truly Polly; it's Mary, my real name is--but I've always been Polly.”

”I like Polly best, too,” declared Jasper, ”it sounds so nice.”

”And his name is Ben,” said Polly.

”Ebenezer, you mean,” said Ben, correcting her.

”Well, we call him Ben,” said Polly; ”it don't ever seem as if there was any Ebenezer about it.”

”I should think not,” laughed Jasper.

”Well, I must get Phronsie,” again said Polly, running back into the bedroom, where that small damsel was busily engaged in was.h.i.+ng ”Baby”

in the basin of water that she had with extreme difficulty succeeded in getting down on the floor. She had then, by means of a handful of soft soap, taken from Polly's soap-bowl during the dish-was.h.i.+ng, and a bit of old cotton, plastered both herself and ”Baby” to a comfortable degree of stickiness.

”Phronsie,” said Polly--”dear me! what you doing? the big dog's out there, you know, that scared the naughty organ-man; and the boy--” but before the words were half out, Phronsie had slipped from under her hands, and to Polly's extreme dismay, clattered out into the kitchen.

”Here she is!” cried Jasper, meeting her at the door. The little soapy hands were grasped, and kissing her--”Ugh!” he said, as the soft soap plentifully spread on her face met his mouth.

”Oh, Phronsie! you shouldn't,” cried Polly, and then they all burst out into a peal of laughter at Jasper's funny grimaces.

”She's been was.h.i.+ng 'Baby,” explained Polly, wiping her eyes, and looking at Phronsie who was hanging over Prince in extreme affection.

Evidently Prince still regarded her as his especial property.

”Have you got a baby?” asked Jasper. ”I thought she was the baby,”

pointing to Phronsie.

”Oh, I mean her littlest dolly; she always calls her 'Baby,” said Polly.

”Come, Phronsie, and have your face washed, and a clean ap.r.o.n on.”

When Phronsie could be fairly persuaded that Prince would not run away during her absence, she allowed herself to be taken off; and soon re-appeared, her own, dainty little self. Ben, in the meantime, had been initiating Jasper into the mysteries of cutting the wood, the tool-house, and all the surroundings of the ”little brown house.” They had received a re-inforcement in the advent of Joel and David, who stared delightedly at Phronsie's protector, made friends with the dog, and altogether had had such a thoroughly good time, that Phronsie, coming back, clapped her hands in glee to hear them.

”I wish mammy was home,” said Polly, polis.h.i.+ng up the last cup carefully.

”Let me put it up,” said Jasper, taking it from her, ”it goes up here, don't it, with the rest?” reaching up to the upper-shelf of the old cupboard.

”Yes,” said Polly.