make that old button fly into its hole."

"So he shall, old button fly into his hole," laughed Phronsie through
her tears. And presently she declared it was done. And with a final
pat, this time from Mother Fisher's fingers, Polly was released, and
the rest of the dressing was soon done.

And there, waiting at the end of their corridor, was Jasper, in every
conceivable way trying to get the better of his impatience. When he did
finally see Polly, he dashed up to her. "Well, are you really here?"

"Yes," cried Polly, scampering on, with Phronsie clinging to her hand,
"I really believe I am, Jasper. But don't let's go faster than Mamsie,"
looking back for her.

"You all run on," said Mother Fisher, laughing, "I shall get there
soon; and really, Mr. King has waited long enough," she added to
herself.

And, indeed, Mr. King thought so too, and he couldn't control his
delight when the three danced into the little private parlour, opening
out from his bedroom, and came up to his side.

"I slept over," said Polly, in a shamefaced little way; "I'm sorry,
Grandpapa dear."

"You needn't be; not a bit of it," declared Grandpapa, holding her off
at arm's length to scan her rosy face; "the best thing you could
possibly do"--Mamsie's very words. So Polly felt relieved at once. "And
now we will wait for Mrs. Fisher," he added, with a glance at the door.