and Joel, and David." And all Polly could do, she would still say, "I
like it, Polly, and I want Grandpapa to send it."

At last Polly turned in despair to Jasper. "Oh, what can we do?" she
cried; "she is just as determined as she was when she would send the
gingerbread boy to Grandpapa."

"Well, I think we would better not try to get her away from the idea,"
said Jasper, with a look at the rapt little face. Phronsie was now
kneeling on a Flemish oak chair, and studying the Delft plate with
absorbed attention.

"No," said Polly, with a sigh, "I suppose it isn't any use to try when
she looks like that." Just then old Mr. King, who had been busy in a
farther corner with the proprietor of the shop, picking out some small
articles that struck his fancy, turned and called Phronsie. She didn't
hear him, being too absorbed. And so he laid down the little silver
paper-cutter he was looking at, and came over to see what was the
matter.

"Well, child," he said, looking over her shoulder. "And so you like
that, hey?"

Phronsie drew a long breath. "I do, Grandpapa, like it very much
indeed," she said.

"Well, then, I don't see but what you must have it. And it shall hang
in your own little room at home, Phronsie."

"But I don't want it for my very own, Grandpapa," said Phronsie; "it