"I don't want any observations from you," said the old gentleman,
depositing himself in the chair. "There, you can go back to your work,
Mrs. Tucker, and you too, Pete. Now I'll see that this pie is to your
liking, Phronsie."

But Phronsie still sat back in her chair, thoughtfully surveying
Jefferson.

"Grandpapa," she said at last slowly, "I think I'd rather have the first
pie, I really would, Grandpapa, may I?" She brought her yellow head
forward by a sudden movement, and looked deep into his keen eyes.

"Bless my soul! Rather have the first pie?" repeated the old gentleman
in astonishment, "why, I thought you wanted to make one all yourself."

"I think I'd rather do part of it," said Phronsie with great
deliberateness, "then Polly'll like it, and eat it, and I'll do yours,
Grandpapa dear, just as Jefferson fixed mine, all alone. Please let me."
She held him fast with her eyes, and waited for his answer.

"So you shall!" cried Mr. King in great satisfaction, "make mine all
alone. This one would better go as it is. Put away the flour and things,
Jefferson; Miss Phronsie doesn't want them."

Phronsie gave a relieved little sigh. "And, Jefferson, if you hadn't
showed me how, I couldn't ever in all this world make Grandpapa's. Now
give me the little plate, do."

"Here 'tis, Miss," said the cook, all his tremor over the blunder he had