"If Grandpapa should come in and find her so 'twould be very dreadful!"
exclaimed Polly, looking over at the five boys, who in this sudden
emergency were knocked speechless. "Do let us all play some game. Can't
some one think of one?"
"Let us play 'Twenty Questions,'" proposed Jasper brightly. "I'll begin
it, I've thought of something."
"That's horrid," cried Van, finding his tongue, "none of us want to
play that, I'm sure."
"I do," said David. "I think 'Twenty Questions' is always nice. Is it
animal, vegetable or mineral, Jasper?"
"I'm sick of it. Do play something not quite as old as the hills, I
beg."
"Well, you think of something yourself, old man," said Jasper, nodding
furiously at him. "Hurry up."
"I'd rather have Polly tell a story than any game you could possibly
think of," said Van, going over to her, where she sat on the rug at
Phronsie's feet. "Polly, will you?" he asked wheedlingly.
"Don't ask her to-night," interposed Jasper.
"Yes, I shall. It's the only time we shall have," said Van, "before we
go back to school. Do, Polly, will you?" he begged again.
"I can't think of the first thing," declared Polly, pushing back little
rings of brown hair from her forehead.
"Don't try to think; just spin it off," said Van. "Now begin."
"You're a regular nuisance, Van!" exclaimed Jasper indignantly. "Polly,
I wouldn't indulge him."
"I know Phronsie wants a story; don't you, Phronsie?" asked Van
artfully, and running over to peer into her face.
But to his astonishment, Phronsie stood perfectly still. "No," she said
again, "I don't want a story; Joey must be sick."
"Jasper," cried Polly in despair, and springing up, "something must be
done. Grandpapa's coming; I hear him."
"Phronsie," said Jasper, bending to speak into her ear, "do you know
you are making Polly feel very unhappy? Just think; the next thing I
don't know but what she'll cry."
Phronsie unfolded her hands. "Give me your handkerchief, Polly," she
said, winking back the rest of the tears.
"Now, there's a dear," cried Polly, pulling out her handkerchief and
wiping the wet, little face. None too soon; the door opened and Mr.
King came in.
"Well--well--well!" he exclaimed, looking over his spectacles at them
all. "Playing games, hey?"
"We're going to," said Ben and Jasper together.
"No, Polly is going to tell a story," said Van loudly, "that is, if you
want to hear it, Grandpapa. Do say you do," he begged, going over to
whisper in his ear.
"I want immensely to hear it!" declared the old gentleman, pulling up
an easy-chair to the fireside. "There now," sitting down, "I'm fixed.
Now proceed, my dear."
Van softly clapped his hands. "Phronsie," Mr. King beckoned to her, and
then suggestively touched his knee, "here, dear."