Five Little Peppers and their Friends | Page 8

Poor lamb! There, there! Grandpapa will take care of his little girl himself, after this."
"I'm hungry," announced Phronsie, looking up into his face. "Indeed I am, 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.
"Bless you, yes, child." He put the glass into her hand. "Take care, Phronsie, don't drink so fast."
"Honey will choke herself," cried Sarah, in alarm, holding up warning black fingers. "Oh, my! she's done drunk it mos' all up a'ready."
"There, there, Phronsie!" Grandpapa took hold of the glass.
"Phronsie," said Mother Fisher, and it was her hand that took the glass away from the eager lips. "You must eat a roll now, or a little bit of toast."
"But I want some more milk," said Phronsie, and her lips quivered.
"Not yet, Phronsie." Mother Fisher was cutting up the toast, and now held up a morsel on the spoon. "See how very nice it is."
"We'll play it is five-o'clock tea," said old Mr. King, at his wit's end to bring the smiles into her face. Phronsie turned and gave him one look, then buried her face in his waistcoat and cried as hard as she could.
"There, there!" The old gentleman got up to his feet and began to pace the floor again, his white hair bent over her face, his hand patting her back gently. "Don't cry, poor little lamb." And as a sudden thought struck him, "Just look at your mother, Phronsie; you are making her sick."
Up popped Phronsie's yellow head, the tears trailing off from the round cheeks till they fell on the floor. There stood Mother Fisher, quite still.
"I'm sorry, Mamsie," said Phronsie, and she put out a little hand, "I'll eat the toast." So down old Mr. King sat again, with her on his lap, and Mother Fisher cut up more toast, and Phronsie opened her mouth obediently, and after the first mouthful she smiled: "I like it, I do." And Mother Fisher smiled too, and said, "I knew you would, Phronsie." And Grandpapa laughed, he was so happy, and Sarah kept crying, "Bress de Lawd! yer maw knew best." And pretty soon Mrs. Fisher nodded to old Mr. King, and he said, "Now for the rest of the milk, Phronsie," and the glass was put into her happy hand.
And then more toast, and more laughing, for Grandpapa by that time told a funny story, and everything got so very merry that the gayety brought all the rest of the houseful of children up to see if Phronsie were really awake.
"Why didn't you tell us before?" cried Joel, in a dudgeon, revolving around the table. "She's been eating ever so long, and we thought she was asleep."
"That's the reason she's had a little peace," retorted the old gentleman.
"Catch them telling you, Joe!" said Percy Whitney, glad to pitch in with a word.
"Well, you didn't know it, either," said Joel, in great satisfaction. "Say, Phronsie, where were you all this morning?"
"Ugh!" cried Van, with a warning dig in his ribs.
"Let me alone," cried Joel, squaring around on him savagely.
"Look at Phronsie's face," said Percy, with a superior manner, as if no one needed to tell him when to speak.
Polly was on her knees cuddling up Phronsie's toes, and begging to feed her, when she felt her give a shiver, and try to hide her face on her neck.
"Don't, Joey," begged Polly. But Joel, not hearing her, and hating to be dictated to by Percy, cried out persistently:
"Say, Phron, what were you doing all the