"Maybe she'll come again some day, if I watch by the big gate."
"My goodness me!" Polly, running along the upper hall, peered over the
railing. "What are you doing, Phronsie, sitting down in the middle of the
stairs?"
"I'm thinking," said Phronsie, looking up.
"Well, I should say!" cried Polly, running down to sit beside her. "Oh,
Pet, I've an invite for you." She seized Phronsie's hand and cuddled it in
both of her own. "It's perfectly splendid."
"What's an 'invite'?" asked Phronsie, coming slowly out of her thoughts, to
peer into Polly's face.
"Oh, I forgot, Mamsie didn't want me to say that," said Polly, with a
little blush. "Well, it's an invitation, Pet, and to Miss Mary Taylor's, to
go with us girls this afternoon to work on our fancy things for the fair.
Only think of that, Phronsie Pepper!" And Polly threw her arms around the
small figure, and hugged her, to the imminent danger of both falling down
the rest of the flight.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Polly, "we almost went over."
"Can I really go, Polly?" cried Phronsie, as soon as she could get her
breath, "when you all take your bags and work on things?" She set Clorinda
carefully down on the stair above, and stood up to look into Polly's face.
"Yes, child. Take care, you'll tumble over backward," warned Polly, with a
restraining hand. "And oh, Phronsie! I'm going to make you a little silk
bag, and you can take your pin-cushion to work on.
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