"Phronsie, how perfectly elegant those roses are
going to be!"--pointing off to the old-fashioned varieties blooming
riotously.
"Oh, Polly!" Phronsie stood still a moment in silent bliss, then hopped up
and down the narrow path. "I'm so glad she can go! Oh, Polly, I'm so
_very_ glad!"
"Who?" cried Polly, in perplexity.
"My little girl, my poor little girl," said Phronsie, hopping away.
"Oh, of course." Polly gave a little laugh. "Well, there are lots of poor
little girls who will go, Phronsie," she said, in great satisfaction,
"because, you know, we're going to make a great deal of money, I expect.
Why, Grandpapa has told Thomas to buy ever so many flowers. Just think,
child, and the oceans we have here!" She waved her hands over to take in
not only the old-fashioned garden where they stood, but the smart
flower-beds beyond, the pride and joy of the gardeners. "Oh, yes, there
will be ever so many children who will be happy in the country in the
summer."
"And my poor little girl," persisted Phronsie gleefully, "she will be
happy, Polly. Oh, let's go down to the big gate--p'raps she's there now
--and tell her. Please, Polly." She seized Polly's hand m great excitement.
Polly sank to her knees in delight over a little bed of daisies.
"I do think these are the very sweetest things, Phronsie Pepper," she said.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67