Grandpapa dear, very hungry."

"Oh, to think of it! Yes, Pet"--soothing her. "Where is that Sarah? Can't
some one get this poor child a bit to eat?" he cried irascibly.

"Sarah will hurry just as fast as she can," said Mrs. Fisher, coming up
with a dainty white gown over her arm. "Phronsie must be a good girl and
wait patiently."

Phronsie wriggled her toes under the bedclothes.

"I wish you'd take me, Grandpapa dear," she said, holding up her arms.

"So I will--so I will, Pet!" cried old Mr. King, very much delighted; and
lifting her up to rest her head on his shoulder, he walked up and down the
room. "There, there, dear! Oh, why doesn't that Sarah hurry!"--when in
walked that individual with a big tray, and on it everything that a hungry
child could be supposed to desire. But Phronsie had no eyes for anything
but the glass of milk.

"Oh, Grandpapa," she piped out at sight of it, "Sarah's got me some milk,"
and she gave a happy little crow.

"So she has," he laughed as gayly, "Well, now, we'll sit right down here
and have some of these good things," and, Mrs. Fisher drawing up a big easy
chair in front of the table where Sarah deposited the tray, he sat down,
with Phronsie on his knee. "Now, child----"

"Oh, Grandpapa, may I have the milk?" she begged, holding out a trembling
hand.