Margaret Sidney

“ Mr. King pushed into the house with his burden. “Don't anybody know,” he burst out, puffing up the stairs, and scolding furiously at every step, “enough to take better care of this child, than to have such goings on!”
“What is the matter, father?” asked Mrs. Whitney, coming up the stairs, after him. “What has happened out of the way?”
“'TWAS A NAUGHTY HORSE!'”
“Out of the way!” roared the old gentleman, irascibly, “well, if you want Phronsie racing off to the Post Office by herself, and nearly getting killed, poor child! yes, Marian, I say nearly killed!” he continued. ”

“ In after years Jasper never thought of Phronsie without bringing up this picture on that April morning, when Polly and he sat at the foot of the stairs, and looked up and saw it.
“Where's Jap?” called one of the boys; and then there was a clatter out into the hall.
“What are you doing?” and Van came to a full stop of amazement and stared at them.
“Resting,” said Jappy, concisely, “what do you want, Van?”
“I want you,” said Van, “we can't do anything without you, Jappy; you know that.”
“Very well,” said Jasper, getting up. “Come on, Polly, we must go.” ”

“ At last she reached the business streets; and although she didn't come to the Post Office, she comforted herself by the thought—“it must be coming soon. I guess it's round this corner.”
She kept turning corner after corner, until, at last, a little anxious feeling began to tug at her heart; and she began to think—“I wish I could see Polly”——
And now, she had all she could do to get out of the way of the crowds of people who were pouring up and down the thoroughfare. Everybody jostled against her, and gave her a push. “Oh dear!” thought Phronsie, “there's such a many big people!” ”

“ And Phronsie gazed up anxiously into the old gentleman's face.
“She went to the Post Office!” turning around on the others fiercely, as if they had contradicted him—“Why, my child, what were you going to do?”
“Mamsie's letter,” said Phronsie, holding up for inspection the precious bit, which by this time, was decidedly forlorn, “Polly couldn't write; and Mamsie'd feel so bad not to get one—she would really” said the child, shaking her head very soberly, “for Polly said so.” ”

“ And now the accumulation of dolls in the house became something alarming, for Mr. King, observing Phronsie's devotion to her family, thought there couldn't possibly be too many of them; so he scarcely ever went out without bringing home one at least to add to them, until Phronsie had such a remarkable collection as would have driven almost any other child nearly crazy with delight. ”

“ The sunlight through an oriel window fell on the childish face and figure, glinting the yellow hair, and lighting up the radiant face, that yet had a tender, loving glance for the two who waited for her below. One little foot was poised, just in the act of stepping down to the next lower stair, and the fat hand grasped the polished railing, expressive of just enough caution to make it truly childish. ”

“ And he put out his hand to catch the child.
“Bless me!” cried a third, whirling around suddenly, “Bless me! you don't say so! why”——
With a small cry, but gladsome and distinct in its utterance, Phronsie gave one look—“Oh, grandpa!” was all she could say.
“Oh! where—” Mr. King couldn't possibly have uttered another word, for then his breath gave out entirely, as he caught the small figure.
“I went to the Post Office,” said the child, clinging to him in delight, her tangled hair waving over the little white face, into which a faint pink color was quickly coming back. “Only it wouldn't come ”