PHRONSIE
Phronsie was toiling up and down the long, oak staircase the nextmorning; slowly going from one step to the other, drawing each littlefat foot into place laboriously, but with a pleased expression on herface that only gave some small idea of the rapture within. Up and downshe had been going for a long time, perfectly fascinated; seeming tocare for nothing else in the world but to work her way up to the top ofthe long flight, only to turn and come down again. She had been goingon so for some time, till at last, Polly, who was afraid she would tireherself all out, sat down at the foot and begged and implored the littlegirl, who had nearly reached the top, to stop and rest.
"You'll be tired to death, Phronsie!" she said, looking up at the smallfigure on its toilsome journey. "Why you must have gone up a milliontimes! Do sit down, pet; we're all going out riding, Phronsie, thisafternoon; and you can't go if you're all tired out."
"I won't be tired, Polly," said Phronsie, turning around and looking ather, "do let me go just once more!"
"Well," said Polly, who never could refuse her anything, "just once,Phronsie, and then you must stop."
So Phronsie kept on her way rejoicing, while Polly still sat on thelowest stair, and drummed impatiently on the stair above her, waitingfor her to get through.
Jappy came through the hall and found them thus. "Halloa, Polly!" hesaid, stopping suddenly; "what's the matter?"
"Oh, Phronsie's been going so," said Polly, looking up at the littlefigure above them, which had nearly reached the top in delight, "that Ican't stop her. She has really, Jappy, almost all the morning; you can'tthink how crazy she is over it."
"Is that so?" said Jasper, with a little laugh. "Hulloa, Phronsie, isit nice?" and he tossed a kiss to the little girl, and then sat down byPolly.
"Oh," said Phronsie, turning to come down, "it's the beyew-tiflest placeI ever saw, Jasper! the very be-yew-tiflest!"
"I wish she could have her picture painted," whispered Jasper,enthusiastically. "Look at her now, Polly, quick!"
"Yes," said Polly, "isn't she sweet!"
"Sweet!" said Jasper. "I should think she was!"
The sunlight through an oriel window fell on the childish face andfigure, glinting the yellow hair, and lighting up the radiant face, thatyet had a tender, loving glance for the two who waited for her below.One little foot was poised, just in the act of stepping down to the nextlower stair, and the fat hand grasped the polished railing, expressiveof just enough caution to make it truly childish. In after years Jaspernever thought of Phronsie without bringing up this picture on that Aprilmorning, when Polly and he sat at the foot of the stairs, and looked upand saw it.
"Where's Jap?" called one of the boys; and then there was a clatter outinto the hall.
"What are you doing?" and Van came to a full stop of amazement andstared at them.
"Resting," said Jappy, concisely, "what do you want, Van?"
"I want you," said Van, "we can't do anything without you, Jappy; youknow that."
"Very well," said Jasper, getting up. "Come on, Polly, we must go."
"And Phronsie," said Van, anxiously, looking up to Phronsie, who hadnearly reached them by this time, "we want her, too."
"Of course," said Polly, running up and meeting her to give her a hug;"I don't go unless she does."
"Where are we going, Polly?" asked Phronsie, looking back longingly toher beloved stairs as she was borne off.
"To the greenhouse, chick!" said Jasper, "to help Turner; and it'll begood fun, won't it, Polly?"
"What is a greenhouse?" asked the child, wonderingly. "All green,Jasper?"
"Oh, dear me," said Van, doubling up, "do you suppose she thinks it'spainted green?"
"It's green inside, Phronsie, dear," said Jasper, kindly, "and that'sthe best of all."
When Phronsie was really let loose in the greenhouse she thought itdecidedly best of all; and she went into nearly as much of a rapture asPolly did on her first visit to it.
In a few moments she was cooing and jumping among the plants, while oldTurner, staid and particular as he was, laughed to see her go.
"She's your sister, Miss Mary, ain't she?" at last he asked, as Phronsiebent lovingly over a little pot of heath, and just touched one littleleaf carefully with her finger.
"Yes," said Polly, "but she don't look like me."
"She is like you," said Turner, respectfully, "if she don't look likeyou; and the flowers know it, too," he added, "and they'll love to seeher coming, just as they do you."
For Polly had won the old gardener's heart completely by her passionatelove for flowers, and nearly every morning a little nosegay, fresh andbeautiful, came up to the house for "Miss Mary."
And now nobody liked to think of the time, or to look back to it, whenPhronsie hadn't been in the house. When the little feet went patteringthrough halls and over stairs, it seemed to bring sunshine and happinessinto every one's heart just to hear the sounds. Polly and the boys inthe schoolroom would look up from their books and nod away brightly toeach other, and then fall to faster than ever on their lessons, to getthrough the quicker to be with her again.
One thing Phronsie always insisted on, and kept to itpertinaciously--and that was to go into the drawing-room with Pollywhen she went to practice, and there, with one of her numerous family ofdolls, to sit down quietly in some corner and wait till she got through.
Day after day she did it, until Polly, who was worried to think howtedious it must be for her, would look around and say, "Oh, childie, dorun out and play."
"I want to stay," Phronsie would beg in an injured tone; "please let me,Polly."
So Polly would jump and give her a kiss, and then, delighted to knowthat she was there, would go at her practicing with twice the vigor andenthusiasm.
But Phronsie's chief occupation, at least when she wasn't with Polly,was the entertainment and amusement of Mr. King. And never was she verylong absent from his side, which so pleased the old gentleman thathe could scarcely contain himself, as with a gravity befitting theimportance of her office, she would follow him around in a happycontented way, that took with him immensely. And now-a-days, no one eversaw the old gentleman going out of a morning, when Jasper was busy withhis lessons, without Phronsie by his side, and many people turned to seethe portly figure with the handsome head bent to catch the prattle ofa little sunny-haired child, who trotted along, clasping his handconfidingly. And nearly all of them stopped to gaze the second timebefore they could convince themselves that it was really that queer,stiff old Mr. King of whom they had heard so much.
And now the accumulation of dolls in the house became somethingalarming, for Mr. King, observing Phronsie's devotion to her family,thought there couldn't possibly be too many of them; so he scarcelyever went out without bringing home one at least to add to them, untilPhronsie had such a remarkable collection as would have driven almostany other child nearly crazy with delight. She, however, regarded themsomething in the light of a grave responsibility, to be taken care oftenderly, to be watched over carefully as to just the right kind ofbringing up; and to have small morals and manners taught in just theright way.
Phronsie was playing in the corner of Mrs. Whitney's little boudoir,engaged in sending out invitations for an elaborate tea-party to begiven by one of the dolls, when Polly rushed in with consternation inher tones, and dismay written all over her face.
"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Whitney, looking up from her embroidery.
"Why," said Polly, "how could I! I don't see--but I've forgotten towrite to mamsie to-day; it's Wednesday, you know, and there's Monsieurcoming." And poor Polly looked out in despair to see the lively littlemusic teacher advancing towards the house at an alarming rate of speed.
"That is because you were helping Van so long last evening over hislessons," said Mrs. Whitney; "I am so sorry."
"Oh, no," cried Polly honestly, "I had plenty of time--but I forgot'twas mamsie's day. What will she do!"
"You will have to let it go now till the afternoon
, dear; there's noother way; it can go in the early morning mail."
"Oh, dear," sighed Polly, "I suppose I must." And she went down to meetMonsieur with a very distressed little heart.
Phronsie laid down the note of invitation she was scribbling, andstopped to think; and a moment or two after, at a summons from a caller,Mrs. Whitney left the room.
"I know I ought to," said Phronsie to herself and the dolls, "yes, Iknow I had; mamsie will feel, oh! so bad, when she don't get Polly'sletter; and I know the way, I do, truly."
She got up and went to the window, where she thought a minute; and then,coming back, she took up her little stubby pencil, and bending over asmall bit of paper, she commenced to trace with laborious efforts andmuch hard breathing, some very queer hieroglyphics that to her seemed tobe admirable, as at last she held them up with great satisfaction.
"Good-bye," she said then, getting up and bowing to the dolls who satamong the interrupted invitations, "I won't be gone but a little bit ofone minute," and she went out determinedly and shut the door.
Nobody saw the little figure going down the carriage drive, so of coursenobody could stop her. When Phronsie got to the gateway she looked upand down the street carefully, either way.
"Yes," she said, at last, "it was down here, I'm very sure, I went withgrandpa," and immediately turned down the wrong way, and went on andon, grasping carefully her small, and by this time rather soiled bit ofpaper.
At last she reached the business streets; and although she didn't cometo the Post Office, she comforted herself by the thought--"it must becoming soon. I guess it's round this corner."
She kept turning corner after corner, until, at last, a little anxiousfeeling began to tug at her heart; and she began to think--"I wish Icould see Polly--" And now, she had all she could do to get out ofthe way of the crowds of people who were pouring up and down thethoroughfare. Everybody jostled against her, and gave her a push. "Ohdear!" thought Phronsie, "there's such a many big people!" and thenthere was no time for anything else but to stumble in and out, tokeep from being crushed completely beneath their feet. At last, an oldhuckster woman, in passing along, knocked off her bonnet with the endof her big basket, which flew around and struck Phronsie's head. Notstopping to look into the piteous brown eyes, she strode on without aword. Phronsie turned in perfect despair to go down a street that lookedas if there might be room enough for her in it. Thoroughly frightened,she plunged over the crossing, to reach it!
"Look out!" cried a ringing voice. "Stop!"
"The little girl'll be killed!" said others with bated breath, as apowerful pair of horses whose driver could not pull them up in time,dashed along just in front of her! With one cry, Phronsie sprang betweentheir feet, and reached the opposite curbstone in safety!
The plunge brought her up against a knot of gentlemen who were standingtalking on the corner.
"What's this!" asked one, whose back being next to the street, hadn'tseen the commotion, as the small object dashed into their midst, andfell up against him.
"Didn't you see that narrow escape?" asked a second, whose face hadpaled in witnessing it. "This little girl was nearly killed a momentago--careless driving enough!" And he put out his hand to catch thechild.
"Bless me!" cried a third, whirling around suddenly, "Bless me! youdon't say so! why--" With a small cry, but gladsome and distinct in itsutterance, Phronsie gave one look--"Oh, grandpa!" was all she could say.
"Oh! where--" Mr. King couldn't possibly have uttered another word, forthen his breath gave out entirely, as he caught the small figure.
"I went to the Post Office," said the child, clinging to him in delight,her tangled hair waving over the little white face, into which a faintpink color was quickly coming back. "Only it wouldn't come; and I walkedand walked--where is it, grandpa?" And Phronsie gazed up anxiously intothe old gentleman's face.
"She went to the Post Office!" turning around on the others fiercely,as if they had contradicted him--"Why, my child, what were you going todo?"
"Mamsie's letter," said Phronsie, holding up for inspection the preciousbit, which by this time, was decidedly forlorn, "Polly couldn't write;and Mamsie'd feel so bad not to get one--she would really" said thechild, shaking her head very soberly, "for Polly said so."
"And you've been--oh! I can't think of it," said Mr. King, tenderlytaking her up on his shoulder, "well, we must get home now, or I don'tknow what Polly will do!" And without stopping to say a word to hisfriends, he hailed a passing carriage, and putting Phronsie in, hecommanded the driver to get them as quickly as possible to theirdestination.
In a few moments they were home. Mr. King pushed into the house with hisburden. "Don't anybody know," he burst out, puffing up the stairs, andscolding furiously at every step, "enough to take better care of thischild, than to have such goings on!"
"What is the matter, father?" asked Mrs. Whitney, coming up the stairs,after him. "What has happened out of the way?"
"Out of the way!" roared the old gentleman, irascibly, "well, if youwant Phronsie racing off to the Post Office by herself, and nearlygetting killed, poor child! yes, Marian, I say nearly killed!" hecontinued.
"What do you mean?" gasped Mrs. Whitney.
"Why, where have you been?" asked the old gentleman, who wouldn't letPhronsie get down out of his arms, under any circumstances; so there shelay, poking up her head like a little bird, and trying to say she wasn'tin the least hurt, "where's everybody been not to know she'd gone?" heexclaimed, "where's Polly--and Jasper--and all of 'em?"
"Polly's taking her music lesson," said Mrs. Whitney. "Oh, Phronsiedarling!" and she bent over the child in her father's arms, and nearlysmothered her with kisses.
"Twas a naughty horse," said Phronsie, sitting up straight and lookingat her, "or I should have found the Post Office; and I lost off mybonnet, too," she added, for the first time realizing her loss, puttingher hand to her head; "a bad old woman knocked it off with a basket--andnow mamsie won't get her letter!" and she waved the bit, which she stillgrasped firmly between her thumb and finger, sadly towards Mrs. Whitney.
"Oh, dear," groaned that lady, "how could we talk before her! But whowould have thought it! Darling," and she took the little girl from herfather's arms, who at last let her go, "don't think of your mamma'sletter; we'll tell her how it was," and she sat down in the first chairthat she could reach; while Phronsie put her tumbled little head down onthe kind shoulder and gave a weary little sigh.
"It was so long," she said, "and my shoes hurt," and she thrust out thedusty little boots, that spoke pathetically of the long and unaccustomedtramp.
"Poor little lamb!" said Mr. King, getting down to unbutton them. "Whata shame!" he mumbled pulling off half of the buttons in his franticendeavors to get them off quickly.
But Phronsie never heard the last of his observations, for in a minuteshe was fast asleep. The tangled hair fell off from the tired littleface; the breathing came peaceful and regular, and with her little handfast clasped in Mrs. Whitney's she slept on and on.
Polly came flying up-stairs, two or three at a time, and humming a scrapof her last piece that she had just conquered.
"Phronsie," she called, with a merry little laugh, "where--"
"Hush!" said Mr. King, warningly, and then just because he couldn'texplain there without waking Phronsie up, he took hold of Polly's twoshoulders and marched her into the next room, where he carefully closedthe door, and told her the whole thing, using his own discretion aboutthe very narrow escape she had passed through. He told enough, however,for Polly to see what had been so near them; and she stood there soquietly, alternately paling and flushing as he proceeded, till at last,when he finished, Mr. King was frightened almost to death at the sightof her face.
"Oh, goodness me, Polly!" he said, striding up to her, and then fumblingaround on the table to find a glass of water, "you are not going tofaint, are you? Phronsie's all well now, she isn't hurt in the least, Iassure you; I assure you--where is a glass of water! Marian ought to
seethat there's some here--that stupid Jane!" and in utter bewildermenthe was fussing here and there, knocking down so many things in general,that the noise soon brought Polly to, with a little gasp.
"Oh, don't mind me, dear Mr. King--I'm--all well."
"So you are," said the old gentleman, setting up a toilet bottle that hehad knocked over, "so you are; I didn't think you'd go and tumble over,Polly, I really didn't," and he beamed admiringly down on her.
And then Polly crept away to Mrs. Whitney's side where she threw herselfdown on the floor, to watch the little sleeping figure. Her hand wasgathered up, into the kind one that held Phronsie's; and there theywatched and watched and waited.
"Oh, dear," said Phronsie, suddenly, turning over with a little sigh,and bobbing up her head to look at Polly; "I'm so hungry! I haven't hadanything to eat in ever an' ever so long, Polly!" and she gazed at herwith a very injured countenance.
"So you must be," said Mrs. Whitney, kissing the flushed little face."Polly must ring the bell for Jane to bring this little bird somecrumbs.
"Can I have a great many?" asked Phronsie, lifting her eyes, with thedewy look of sleep still lingering in them, "as many as two birdies?"
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Whitney, laughing; "I think as many as threelittle birdies could eat, Phronsie."
"Oh," said Phronsie, and leaned back satisfied, while Polly gave theorder, which was presently followed by Jane with a well-filled tray.
"Now," said Jappy, when he heard the account of the adventure, "I saythat letter ought to go to your mother, Polly."
"Oh," said Polly, "it would scare mamsie most to death, Jappy!"
"Don't tell her the whole," said Jasper, quickly, "I didn't meanthat--about the horses and all that--but only enough to let her see howPhronsie tried to get it to her."
"And I'm going to write to your brother Joel," said Van, drawing up tothe library table; "I'll scare him, Polly, I guess; he won't tell yourmother."
"Your crow-tracks'll scare him enough without anything else," saidPercy, pleasantly, who really could write very nicely, while Polly brokeout in an agony:
"Oh, no, Van, you mustn't! you mustn't!"
"If Van does," said Jasper, decidedly, "it'll be the last time he'llwrite to the 'brown house,' I can tell him; and besides, he'll go toCoventry." This had the desired effect.
"Let's all write," said Polly.
So a space on the table was cleared, and the children gathered aroundit, when there was great scratching of pens, and clearing of ideas;which presently resulted in a respectable budget of letters, into whichPhronsie's was lovingly tucked in the centre; and then they all filedout to put it into the letterbox in the hall, for Thomas to mail withthe rest in the morning.