"She's run home," said David, "I guess. She isn't here."

"And that's where I must be too," cried Ben, bounding off.

When Van was next seen he was with old Mr. King, and wearing all signs
of having received his full share of comfort. Phronsie, just tying on
her little hood, to go down to the parsonage to ask after Dicky, looked
out of the window to exclaim in pleased surprise, "Why, here comes dear
Grandpapa," and then she rushed out to meet him.

"Here's my little girl," cried the old gentleman, opening his arms, when
she immediately ran into them. "Now we're all right."

"Is Dicky all right?" asked Phronsie anxiously, as she fell into step by
his side.

"Yes, indeed; as well as a youngster can be, who's broken his leg."

Phronsie shivered. "But then, that's nothing," Mr. King hastened to add;
"I broke my own when I was a small shaver no bigger than Dick, and I was
none the worse for it. Boys always have some such trifling mishaps,
Phronsie."

"Ben never broke his leg, nor Joel, nor Davie," said Phronsie. "Must
they yet, Grandpapa?"

"O dear, no," declared Mr. King hastily; "that isn't necessary. I only
meant they must have something. Now you see, Ben had the measles, you
know."