"
[Illustration: Five O'Clock Tea]
"Oh, I want Polly," broke out Phronsie, with such a wail, as she sat, a
frozen little heap, not daring to stir, that the girl screamed out:
"Well, I'm goin' to take you to her, when I've given you my five-o'clock
tea; that is, if you don't cry. An' I ain't goin' to be the beautiful lady
up at your house; I'll be Mrs. somebody else. No, I'll be a Dukess--the
Dukess of Marlbrer--I've seen her in the paper. Oh, you've got to have the
best chair," and she dragged up the sole article of furniture of that name,
minus its back, away from the door; then helping Phronsie up from the
floor, she wiped off the tears on her pinafore, no longer white, and soon
had her installed on it. "Now you're comp'ny." Thereupon she ran and
fetched the doll from the bed, and put her on a small, old barrel, from
which the articles were dumped out, and, with a box for her back, Clorinda
was soon in great state on one side of the feast. The Dukess then slipped
into her own seat, an inverted tub, somewhat low, to be sure, but still
allowing the view of the festive cup to be seen. "She's my child, now. Will
you have some choc'late?"--with a winning smile that ran all over her dirty
face and wrinkled it up alarmingly.
"Oh, no, she's my child," protested Phronsie, the tears beginning again.
"I mean till I get through my five-o'clock tea," cried the girl; "can't you
understand? Then she'll be yours, an' I'll take you home.
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