"I don't see it anywhere."
"What, child?" answered Grandpapa, looking down at her. "See here, wait
a minute," to the others who were ahead, "Phronsie has lost something."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa, I haven't," began Phronsie, in gentle protestation,
"all my things are in here." She patted her little bag that hung on her
arm, a gift of old Mr. King's for her to carry her very own things in,
that yielded her immense satisfaction every time she looked at it,
which was very often.
"Didn't you say you wanted to find something, dear?" he asked, quite
puzzled, while the others surrounded them wonderingly.
"No," said Phronsie, "only where is the hook, Grandpapa? I don't see
it." She lifted her little face and gazed up at him confident that he
knew everything.
"She has lost her button-hook!" exclaimed Polly, "the cunning little
silver one Auntie Whitney gave her Christmas. I'll run back and get it;
it must be in the state-room."
"Stay, Polly," commanded Mr. King. And, "Oh, no, I haven't," piped
Phronsie, as Polly was flying off. "It's here in my bag," patting
Grandpapa's gift hanging on her arm. "I couldn't lose that, Polly," she
cried in horror at the thought, as Polly hurried back.
"Well, what is it, then, you've lost?" demanded Polly, breathlessly.
"I haven't lost anything," reiterated Phronsie, pushing back the yellow
hair from her face. "Grandpapa, tell them, please, I haven't lost
anything," she kept repeating, appealing to him.
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