Part 10 (1/2)

”Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Alstyne in a flash, ”nothing easier;” and he disappeared as suddenly as he came.

”Now, boys,” said Polly, turning back to them and whispering busily, ”I know you won't ever say such perfectly dreadful things to each other again. And so I'm going to ask you both to get me something to eat, will you?”

”How do you know we won't?” cried Percy slowly. He was sorry enough for the episode in the coach, yet couldn't resist the temptation to show he was not to be driven.

”Because I shall then have nothing whatever to eat,” said Polly merrily, ”for of course I can't take a bit from anybody else after refusing Mr. Alstyne's kindness. Don't you see? Oh, Percy! you wouldn't quite do that?”

Van laughed. ”She's got us, Percy,” he said, ”quite fast. You know you won't fight, and I won't again; we both said so a little while back; so what's the good of holding out now?”

Percy drew himself up very slowly and decidedly. ”I won't trouble you so again, Polly,” holding out his hand. ”Now would you like oysters?”

all in the same breath.

”And here's mine,” cried Van, extending his brown one. ”Can't I bring you some salad?”

”Yes, yes,” cried Polly gaily, and she released their hands after a cordial grasp. ”You may bring me everything straight through, boys,” as they rushed off, heads erect, to the crowded supper-table.

”You've had a good time?” asked Mrs. Pepper slowly, with a keen glance into the flushed face and sparkling eyes, as they turned up the gas in Polly's bedroom. ”Dear me! it is half-past eleven.”

”Splendid,” said Polly, shaking herself free from the white gown and beginning to braid her hair for the night. ”Percy and Van were perfectly lovely, and Mr. Alstyne was so good to me. And oh! Mamsie, isn't dear Mr. King just the dearest dear, to give all this to the boys? We haven't thanked him half enough.”

”He is indeed,” said Mrs. Pepper heartily. ”Why, where is Phronsie?”

looking around the room.

”She was right back of you,” said Polly. ”She wanted to take off her things herself. Did you ever see such a sweet”--she began, but Mrs.

Pepper did not stop to hear, hurrying out to the adjoining room, shared by the mother and her baby.

”She isn't here,” Polly heard her say in bewildered tones. So Polly, her long hair blown about her face, ran in, brush in hand.

”Why, where”--she began laughingly.

”She wouldn't go downstairs, I don't think,” said Mrs. Pepper, peering in all the corners, and even meditating a look under the bed.

”No, no,” cried Polly, ”the lights are all turned out,” investigating all possible and impossible nooks that a mouse could creep into. ”Where can she be? Phronsie--Phronsie!”

”Well, of course she is downstairs,” declared Mrs. Pepper at last, hurrying out of the room.

”Take a candle, Mamsie, you'll fall,” cried Polly, and throwing on her bath wrapper, she seized the light from the mantel and hurried after her.

Half-way down she could hear Phronsie's gay little laugh, and catch the words ”Good-night, my dear Grandpapa,” and then she came slowly out from Mr. King's sitting-room, and softly closed the door.

”Phronsie!” exclaimed Polly, sitting down on the middle of the stairs, the candle shaking ominously, ”how could”--

”Hus.h.!.+” said Mrs. Pepper, who had fumbled her way along the hall.

”Don't say anything. Oh, Phronsie dear, so you went down to bid Grandpapa good-night, did you?”

Phronsie turned a glance of gentle surprise on her mother, and then looked up at Polly.