"But, Grandpapa dear, she isn't glad about something."

"No more am I."

"Grandpapa," cried Phronsie, moving off a bit, though not deserting his
hand, and standing on her tiptoes, "I want her to stay, to see me.
Perhaps she hasn't any little girls."

"To see you?" cried Mr. King irately. "Say no more, child, say no more.
She's been abusing you right and left, like a pick-pocket."

"What is a pickpocket?" asked Phronsie, getting down from her tiptoes.

"Oh! a scoundrel who puts his hands into pockets; picks out what doesn't
belong to him, in fact."

Phronsie stood quite still, and shook her head gravely at the tall
figure. "That was not nice," she said soberly.

"Now do you want her to stay?" cried the old gentleman.

"Insufferable!" repeated Mrs. Chatterton between her teeth, "to mix me
up with that chit!"

"Yes, I do," said Phronsie decidedly, "I do, Grandpapa. Now I know she
hasn't any little girls--if she had little girls, she wouldn't say such
very unnice things; I want the poor lady to stay with me."

Mrs. Chatterton turned and went abruptly off to the door, hesitated, and