“Mamsie,” cried Polly, bounding up from the ring, nearly upsetting Phronsie, who was sitting beside her in a brown study, “can it be—­do you suppose it is nice, dear Mr. and Mrs. Henderson?”

“Well, Polly,” said Mr. King, beaming at her, “you’ve done what the others couldn’t.  Yes, it is Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, and they are going with us to stay until the autumn.”

“Good, good!” cried every one till the big room seemed full of joy.

“Oh, father!” exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, “I’m so glad you’ve done this.  They were so kind to Dicky and to me when he was hurt.”

“They were kind to Dicky and to you,” said her father; “and besides, Marian, Mr. Henderson is a man who doesn’t preach at you only once a week, and Mrs. Henderson is a fine woman.  So it’s a pity not to ease up things for them now and then.  Well, how do you like the plan?” He spoke to Dr. Fisher, but his gaze took them all in.

“Immensely,” said the little doctor; which being again echoed heartily by all the rest, old Mr. King began to feel very much elated at his part in the proceedings, and in a quarter of an hour it seemed as if the expedition had been especially planned for the benefit of the Hendersons, so naturally had it all come about.

And on the morrow, the whole family, Kings, Whitneys, Fishers and Peppers, turned their backs on the gray stone mansion and went down to the city.

And Alexia Rhys persuaded her aunt to do her semi-annual shopping at this time, and to take her too; and Mr. Alstyne also had business that necessitated his going, and Mr. Cabot and Mary Taylor, and her father found they must go along too; and Hamilton Dyce was there, and Pickering Dodge, of course, went to be company for Ben on the way back.  And at the last moment who should jump on the train but Livingston Bayley.

“Had a telegram,” he explained; “must be there at noon.  So glad of the unexpected pleasure of meeting you all.”

And Cousin Eunice Chatterton went; for, at the last minute, she had suddenly discovered that she had visited at the gray stone mansion as long as she cared to, and notified the family accordingly.  And Mr. King had so far made up for his part in the late unpleasantness as to ask her to go with the party, on her way to her nephew’s in the city.  So there she was with the others, bidding them good-by on the steamer.

“Phronsie,” she said slowly, under cover of the babel of tongues, “you are a good child, and I’ve done well by you.  This little bit of paper,” putting it into her hands, “contains a message to Mr. King, which you are to give him after you have started.”

“I will go and give it to him now,” said Phronsie, her fingers closing over the bit.

“No, no,” said Mrs. Chatterton sharply, “do as I say.  Remember, on no account to let any one see it till after you have started.  You are a good child, Phronsie.  Now, remember to do as you are bidden.  And now, will you kiss me, child?”