held back into its cup. She had a soft little bit of cloth in her hand,
with which she first wiped each piece.
"I'm almost through; I haven't but one, two, 'leven more to do."
"Oh, I'll help you," cried Dick, "wash up the dishes," and he turned his
back on the cupboard. "Where's another towel?"
"You mustn't break them," said Phronsie gravely, handing him another small
portion of cloth, "because you see they're _very_ nice dishes"--and
she went back to her own polishing.
"I won't break them," promised little Dick, beginning on an acorn saucer.
"Chil--dren"--it was Polly's voice--"oh, where are you?" They could hear
her as she sped over the terrace.
Down went the little dish-towels, and over went all the cups and saucers,
for Dickie's foot knocked off what Phronsie spared, as both the small
housekeepers rushed tumultuously out.
"Oh, here we are, Polly," they cried.
"Well, you must come at once if you want to go down to Candace's," she
announced, standing on the terrace-top, her cheeks quite rosy for her run
after them. "Auntie is going to take Jasper and me down to get some things
for Rachel. Do you want to go too?"
Didn't they! Polly laughed to see them clamber along the green bank, and
she put out her hands and drew them up.
"I shall buy Rachel something," announced Phronsie, smoothing down her pink
frock with great decision, as they reached the top.
"And so shall I," cried little Dick, bobbing his head; "I shall get her the
very nicest thing that Candace has."
"Well, now, children, we must hurry," said Polly, as they all ran along,
"because you know we ought not to keep Auntie waiting. Now, then, one, two,
three, and away!"
She seized a small hand in each of her own, and away they sped. None too
soon, for Jasper was just skipping down to meet them with the announcement
that sister Marion was getting into the carriage; and there on the steps
was Mrs. Fisher, with Phronsie's hat in her hand.
"Get in, young man," said Jasper, cramming Dick's cap on his head, and he
bundled him in unceremoniously, then hopped after himself.
"I'm going to buy my little girl something," announced Phronsie, looking
back where Mamsie still stood upon the step.
"Yes, yes," she said smilingly, as Thomas started up the horses.
"Wait, wait," cried Phronsie, in a tone of great distress, and she leaned
out toward Mamsie.
"What is it, child?" said Mrs. Fisher.
And, "Wait a bit, Thomas," called Jasper.
"What's the matter, Phronsie?" asked Polly, leaning over from the opposite
seat, where she was ensconced with Mrs. Whitney.
"I want my little purse," said Phronsie, looking down at her empty hands,
then up at her in grave reproach.
"Oh, Phronsie, you can take some of my money," began Polly. "We needn't
wait for that, need we, Mamsie?" she cried, wrinkling up her forehead
impatiently.
"I want my own little purse," said Phronsie decidedly.
"Yes, Mamsie will get it," said Mrs. Fisher; "that is, if Mrs. Whitney can
wait." 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.
"Let us do the cups and saucers first," said Phronsie, with gentle
determination, setting down Clorinda on a stone seat next to Rachel's doll,
and carefully smoothing out her dress.
"No, I want to do the cupboard," persisted little Dick, with strange
obstinacy, for he was generally quite willing to give up to Phronsie.
"I tell you, Phronsie," broke in Rachel suddenly: "let's all set up the
cupboard first, and then it will be ready to put the clean dishes into.
That's the best way."
"Oh, let us," said Phronsie, easily pleased, and giving a last pat to
Rachel's doll. So she ran over to join the others, and, getting down on her
knees, she began to fumble within the little cupboard. Dick had already
opened the door, which was accomplished by taking away the stone.
"Now you take out one thing, Phronsie, and I'll take out the next," said
little Dick, crowding up as close as he could get.
"And then I'll take the things," said Rachel, sitting down a little
distance off, between the two, "as you hand 'em out; so we'll all clean out
the cupboard. Hullo! what's this?"--as Phronsie handed out the first
article.
"That's a top," said little Dick, looking back at her.
"A top!" cried Rachel in derision. "Why, it won't spin; not a bit in this
world."
"It would before it was broken," said Phronsie, for Dick had his face
pressed close to the door of the cupboard, while his brown fingers were
prowling about its interior.
"Dear me! why don't you throw it away?" cried Rachel. "An old broken thing
like that is no good."
"Oh, we wouldn't ever throw it away, Rachel," said Phronsie, in alarm.
"That's our dear top, and it used to spin beautifully," and she took it
affectionately out of Rachel's hand.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel. "Well, what's the next thing?"--as little
Dick backed away from the cupboard. "What is it?"--as he placed some
article in her hand.
"They're a pair of her doll's eyes," said little Dick.
"Oh, misery me!" cried Rachel, tumbling backward, the pair of eyes in her
hand. "Why don't you have 'em put back in your doll, Phronsie?"
"Because these are broken," said Phronsie, hanging on to the top with one
hand, while she reached out the other, "and Grandpapa took my child down
and got her new eyes."
"Well, what makes you save these?" said Rachel, sitting straight again;
"they're no use, Phronsie, now they're broken. Throw them away, do."
"No, no," protested Phronsie, holding the pair of eyes very closely in her
warm little palm, "they were my child's; I'm going to keep them always."
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel faintly, "you'll never set up your cupboard
if you're going to put everything back again the same as it was. Well, pull
out the next thing, Phronsie; it's your turn."
So Phronsie set her two treasures down in a niche in the big boulder, and
leaned over the door of the cupboard.
"I'm going clear back," she announced, running her fat little arm as far as
it would go, to bring it out with something round in the middle of her
palm.
"What is it?" asked Rachel curiously. "Whatever in all this world,
Phronsie?"--at the queer little wad in Phronsie's hand.
"Oh, that?" said little Dick, before Phronsie could answer; "that's what
the squirrel gave us, a lo--ong time ago, Rachel."
"The squirrel gave you?" she cried. "I suppose it's a nut," she added
carelessly.
"No, 'tisn't a nut," said Phronsie, still keeping it in her hand, and
shaking her head decidedly, "and he was a naughty squirrel; he was in a
bird's nest."
"In a bird's nest? What do you mean, and how could you see him?" demanded
Rachel, all three questions in one breath.
"We looked up," said little Dick, throwing his head back to illustrate his
speech, "and he was right there "--pointing up to the highest branches of
the apple tree--"way up on top."
"And the poor bird was screaming," said Phronsie, snuggling up to Rachel's
side, but still not offering to give up the little green wad. "Poor little
bird!--she made a new house, she added sorrowfully.
"And the naughty squirrel was pulling out all the things in her house,"
said little Dick, breaking in with gusto, "and flinging them down; and he
threw us this. Show her, Phronsie."
So Phronsie opened her hand and held it up, the little green wad in the
center.
"Oh, isn't it funny!" Rachel was going to say. Instead, she seized it,
twitched it apart, and hopped up to her feet; then, deserting the two
children, ran like lightning up the green bank, two torn bits of paper
fluttering in her hand. And not observing where she went, she ran directly
into old Mr. King taking a constitutional on the lawn.
"Bless me! what is it?" he gasped, putting out a strong hand to save her
from a fall.
"It's the _ten-dollar bill!_" panted Rachel. "Don't you see?"--waving
it at him.
THE END