" She cast a glance over Polly into the pleasant face above.
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Whitney, with a cheery smile; "I think Phronsie
had much better have her own little purse."
"And I want my own purse, too," declared little Dick, struggling to get
down from the seat where he was wedged in with Jasper and Phronsie, "Mine
is big like a man's," he added, with great importance.
"Dear me!" Mrs. Whitney burst into a merry laugh. "Mrs, Fisher, do you
think you could be troubled enough to get Dicky boy's purse, too?" she
asked.
"I don't find it any trouble," said Mrs. Fisher, with another laugh, "to
get them both." So Phronsie's little purse, with a chain to hang on her
arm, and Dick's bigger one, that folded like a pocketbook, were both handed
into the carriage, Thomas cracked the whip, and off they went to see
Candace in her little shop on Temple Place.
The next day but one, Rachel was visiting in the little stone house among
the boulders. Phronsie had carefully explained how the reason that the cups
and saucers were all on the ground and the dish-towels thrown carelessly
aside, was that they had gone away with Auntie, who couldn't be kept
waiting.
"Well, let's wash 'em up now," said Rachel, flying for one of the
diminutive dish-towels.
"I'm going to clean out the cupboard," declared little Dick, going back to
his original purpose.
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