"Phronsie, I must buy that cushion-pin at the fair," he announced. "I want
such an one very much indeed."
Phronsie got off from the little cricket where he had placed her, and went
straight over to him, to lay her hand with the "cushion-pin" in it on his
knee. "Then I will sell it to you," she said gravely, "and the poor
children can go into the country." Then she went back to her seat and took
up her work once more.
Some of the girls laughed, but Alexia frowned furiously at them; and Mr.
Dyce and Miss Mary apparently seeing no amusement in it, they all began to
beg for the story again, till the clamor bade fair to stop the needles from
doing their work.
"I guess you'll have to," Miss Mary smiled over at him from the center of
the circle, while the color deepened on her cheek.
"I want a story told to me first," he said coolly, leaning back in his
chair. "What is all this bee for, and this fair? I know just a hint about
that, but let me have the whole story from beginning to end. Now then, some
one tell me. I am very anxious to hear."
"You tell, Polly," cried Alexia, and "Let Polly Pepper tell, can't she,
Miss Mary?" begged all the girls, every one saying the same thing. So Miss
Mary said yes, and Polly laid down her violet handkerchief case in her lap,
although she hated to stop working, and began:
"You see, Miss Mary said one day in Sunday-school----"
"Oh, Polly, not that!" said Miss Taylor, in dismay.
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