"Don't say such
things. You are never naughty, Grandpapa dear; you can't be," she
gasped.
"There, there, there," ejaculated old Mr. King, frightened at the
effect of his words and patting her yellow hair, at his wits' end what
to say. So he broke out, "Well, now, Phronsie, you must tell me what to
do."
Thereupon Phronsie, seeing there was something she could really do to
help Grandpapa, came out of her distress enough to sit up quite
straight and attentive in his lap. "You see I spoke rudely to a man,
and I called him a fellow, and he was a gentleman, Phronsie; you must
remember that."
"Yes, I will, Grandpapa," she replied obediently, while her eyes never
wandered from his face.
"And I told him to get out of the way and he did," said Mr. King,
forcing himself to a repetition of the unpleasant truth. "O dear me,
nothing could be worse," he groaned.
"And you are sorry, Grandpapa dear?" Phronsie leaned over and laid her
cheek softly against his.
"Yes, I am, Phronsie, awfully sorry," confessed the old gentleman; "but
what good will that do now? My temper has made a terrible mess of it
all."
"But you can tell the gentleman you are sorry," said Phronsie. "Oh,
Grandpapa dear, do go and tell him now, this very minute." She broke
away from him again, and sat straight on his knee, while a glad little
smile ran all over her face.
"I can't--you don't understand--O dear me!" Mr.
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