Part 11 (2/2)
”Well, is the conference over?” he asked.
”Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper. Her lips had a little white line around them, too, like that on Polly's mouth, and the black eyes had a strange expression.
Phronsie popped her head up like a bird out of its nest, and piped out:
”Oh, please, Mamsie, may she stay?”
”Yes,” said Mother Fisher, ”she is going to stay, Phronsie.”
”Oh, my goodness me!” breathed old Mr. King.
Phronsie slipped out of his arms and began to dance, clapping her hands.
”I'm going to play with her now, but I must get Clorinda first,” she cried excitedly.
”See here, Phronsie,” Mother Fisher called, as she was flying off, ”you must not play with the little girl yet.”
Phronsie stood quite still.
”Come here to mother.” Mrs. Fisher opened her arms and Phronsie scuttled into them like a little rabbit. Mrs. Pepper held her so closely that Phronsie looked up quickly.
”Why, you are hurting me like Grandpapa, Mamsie.”
”Oh, my child!” Mother Fisher seemed to forget herself, as she bowed her head over Phronsie's yellow hair.
”What is the matter, Mamsie?” asked Phronsie. ”I wish I could see your face,” and she wriggled violently.
”Nothing is the matter now,” said Mamsie. ”There, child, now I'll tell you.
If the little girl stays here, she----”
”She's my little girl,” interrupted Phronsie.
”Well, if she stays here, she must be washed and have on clean clothes. So Sarah has taken her, and is going to fix her all up nice.”
”Oh--oh!” cried Phronsie, in a transport, ”and can she have some of Polly's clothes, Mamsie?”
”Yes, I guess so. Anyway, we will fix her up all nicely.”
”And may she stay here for ever and ever,” cried Phronsie, ”and not go back to that un-nice old lady? Please, Mamsie, don't let her go back,” she pleaded.
Over the yellow hair the old gentleman had found out and communicated several things back and forth. One was, ”I don't think she is the child's own grandmother.” ”Mr. Cabot can investigate,” and so on.
”What are you whispering about?” at last asked Phronsie.
”Nothing that you should know, dear. Now I'm going to put you in Grandpapa's lap, Phronsie. You must be a good girl,” and Mother Pepper went off.
”You must take care of me, Phronsie,” said the old gentleman, ”for I really think I need it now. And I guess my hair does want to be smoothed, after all.”
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