"Dear Grandpapa," proceeded Phronsie, turning her yellow head to look at
him, her hand yet among the bonnet strings, "is going to take us all,
every single one, to see the little brown house, and just touch it once,
and be sure it's there, and peek in the doors and windows and"--

"No, no," roared Joel, "we're going to stay, and a week too," hopping
confidently up and down.

"Oh, Joe! not a week," corrected Polly with glowing cheeks, "perhaps two
days; we don't know yet."

"Three--three," begged Van, pushing his head further into the center of
the group. "Mrs. Pepper, do say you want to stay three days," he begged.

"I haven't said I wanted to go yet," she answered with a smile.

"Now, every one of you keep quiet," commanded Mr. King, raising his
hand, "or you'll spoil the whole thing. Phronsie shall tell her story as
she likes."

Thereupon the rest, with the shadow of his warning that the whole might
be spoiled, fell back to a vigorous restraint once more.

"Perhaps," cried Phronsie with shining eyes, and grasping the strings
tighter she leaned forward and pressed her red lips on the mother's
mouth, "we'll go in and stay. Oh, Mamsie!"

That "Oh, Mamsie!" carried the day, and every one hanging on the
conversation knew as soon as they heard it that a victory had been won.