and I called him a fellow, and he was a gentleman, Phronsie; you must
remember that."

"Yes, I will, Grandpapa," she replied obediently, while her eyes never
wandered from his face.

"And I told him to get out of the way and he did," said Mr. King,
forcing himself to a repetition of the unpleasant truth. "O dear me,
nothing could be worse," he groaned.

"And you are sorry, Grandpapa dear?" Phronsie leaned over and laid her
cheek softly against his.

"Yes, I am, Phronsie, awfully sorry," confessed the old gentleman; "but
what good will that do now? My temper has made a terrible mess of it
all."

"But you can tell the gentleman you are sorry," said Phronsie. "Oh,
Grandpapa dear, do go and tell him now, this very minute." She broke
away from him again, and sat straight on his knee, while a glad little
smile ran all over her face.

"I can't--you don't understand--O dear me!" Mr. King set her abruptly
on the floor, and took a few turns up and down the room. Phronsie's
eyes followed him with a grieved expression. When she saw the distress
on his face, she ran up to him and seized his hand, but didn't speak.

"You see, child,"--he grasped her fingers and held them closely,--"it's
just this way: the gentleman wants to do me a favour; that is, to help
Polly with her music."