Phronsie, but her broad hat had drooped, the brown eyes seeking the
platform floor. "See here, Phronsie."

Phronsie didn't speak for a breathing-space. "What is it, Joey?" then
she said, not looking up.

"I'll go back after it; don't you worry, child."

"Oh, but you can't," cried Phronsie, throwing her head back quickly,
"the train will come, and then you won't be here."

"I'll take the next train; of course I can't get back for this," said
Joel, swallowing hard. "I'll bring the box all right," and he dashed
off.

"Joel--oh, Joel!" cried Phronsie, running after him, "don't go!" she
implored.

"Here! here! what's the matter?" cried old Mr. King, forgetting his
indignation to hurry after her. "Phronsie, wait; what is it, dear?"

"Joel's gone," panted Phronsie, flying back, her broad hat falling off
to her shoulders, "oh, do stop him, Grandpapa dear! I'd rather not take
the dolls than to have Joel left."

"Stop him? I can't. Bless me, here--somebody!" turning off to the little
knots of his party scattered over the platform, "where are you all?"

Polly came running up at this, with a pale face. "Oh, Grandpapa!" she
began at sight of him.