stitches, "for Mr. King is very angry with Joanna; and you needn't be
afraid that Phronsie will ever be left again, until we do get just the
right person to be with her. Now you better go out and forget it all, and
busy yourself about something."

"I've got to practice," said Polly with a yawn, and stretching her arms. "I
haven't done a bit this whole afternoon, and Monsieur comes tomorrow."

"Best fly at it, then," said Mrs. Fisher, smiling at her. So Polly, with a
parting glance at the figure on the little bed, went downstairs and into
the big drawing-room, wishing that Phronsie was there, as usual, where she
dearly loved to stay, tucked up in a big damask-covered chair, one of her
dolls in her arms, waiting patiently till the practice hour should be over.

But when Phronsie at last turned over, and said without a bit of warning,
"I want something to eat, I do." with an extremely injured expression,
Mother Fisher was so thankful that she had no time to question her, if,
indeed, she had considered it wise to do so. And Sarah was called, and
laughed with delight at the summons, and ran off to get the tray ready,
Phronsie watching her with hungry eyes in which the dew of sleep still
lingered. But old Mr. King was not so patient.

When he saw, as he soon did, his visits to the side of the little bed being
as frequent as Polly's own, that Phronsie was really awake and sitting up,
he could keep still no longer, but putting his arms around her, fumed out:

"Oh, that careless Joanna! Poor lamb! There, there! Grandpapa will take
care of his little girl himself, after this."

"I'm hungry," announced Phronsie, looking up into his face. "Indeed I am,