"
"You'd much better have stayed with me," laughed Mr. Hamilton Dyce, "since
there'll be one long fight over you. Better come back."
But Miss Mary, protesting that the girls needed her, finally settled it by
getting her chair into the middle of the group, which she made into a
circle.
"There, now, we're all comfy together," she announced. "Now, Mr. Dyce, you
must read us something."
"Oh, tell us a story," put in Alexia, who didn't relish listening to
reading.
"Oh, yes, a story, a story," they one and all took it up. Even Phronsie
laid down her big needle which she was patiently dragging back and forth,
with a very long piece of red worsted following its trail across the face
of her "cushion-pin" in a way to suit her own design, to beg for the story.
"Oh, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, for the first time catching sight of this,
"you can't work with such a long thread. Let me cut off some of it, do."
"Oh, no, no," protested Phronsie, edging off in alarm.
"Why, it'll get all knotted up," said Polly, in concern; "you better let me
take off a little--just a little, teenty bit, Phronsie."
"No, no," declared Phronsie decidedly, "I must hurry and get my cushion-pin
done."
"She thinks she'll get it done faster with a great, long thread," giggled
one of the girls over in the corner. Mr. Dyce turning to fix her with a
stare, she subsided, ducking behind her neighbor's back.
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