Oh, why hadn't she tried to keep cheerful instead of
giving way to the general gloom? And now here were Phronsie and dear
Grandpapa, who had ordered "just oceans of flowers" and everything else.
Oh, dear, how naughty she had been! She sprang away from the big, carved
table, over to take Phronsie's hand.
"The flowers are thirsty, Polly, I guess," said Phronsie, looking up at her
with a smile; "and when they drink all they want to, why, we'll have the
party, won't we, Polly?"
"Yes," said Polly, the flush not dying down.
"Then that'll be nice, I think," said Phronsie, smoothing down her gown in
satisfaction, "and I can finish my cushion-pin now"; for there was one
little corner still untraveled by the remarkable design observed by the
worker. But Mr. Hamilton Dyce had protested he didn't care for any such
trifling deficiency, for he could put more pins in that quarter, so he
should still be its purchaser.
"So you can," cried Polly, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and
winking furiously over at the boys.
"And we can write more letters," cried Jasper suddenly, springing over to
Phronsie's side.
"Phoo!" exclaimed Joel, "we've got bushels already."
"Well, it's nice to have more yet," retorted Jasper, "so you better keep
still, old fellow."
"I shall write some more," announced Van, with great pomposity, strutting
up and down the room.
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