“Then I’ll tell Phronsie to come over tomorrow,” said Polly.  “Shall I, Candace?”

“Yes,” said Candace, “you tell her I got somefin’ fer her; don’t you tell her what, an’ send her along.”

“All right,” said Jasper.  “Just imagine Phronsie’s eyes when she sees that production.  Candace, you’ve surpassed yourself,”

“You go ’long!” exclaimed Candace, in delight, and bestowing a gentle pat of deprecation on his shoulder, “’tain’t like what I could do; but la! well, you send de bressed chile along, and mabbe she’ll like it.”

“Jasper, we’ll stop at Helen’s now,” said Polly as the two hurried by the tall iron fence, that, lined with its thick hedge, shut out the Fargo estate from vulgar eyes, “and get Phronsie; she’ll be ready to come home now; it’s nearly luncheon time.”

“All right,” said Jasper; so the two ran over the carriage drive to a side door by which the King family always had entree.

“Is Phronsie ready to come home?” asked Polly of the maid.  “Tell her to hurry and get her things on; we’ll wait here.  Oh, Jasper!” turning to him, “why couldn’t we have the club next week, Wednesday night?”

“Miss Mary,” said the maid, interrupting, “what do you mean?  I haven’t seen Miss Phronsie to-day.”

Polly whirled around on the step and looked at her.

“Oh! she’s upstairs in the nursery, playing with Helen, I suppose.  Please ask her to hurry, Hannah.”

“No, she isn’t, Miss Mary,” said Hannah.  “I’ve been sweeping the nursery this morning; just got through.”  She pointed to her broom and dustpan that she had set in a convenient corner, as proof of her statement.

“Well, she’s with Helen somewhere,” said Polly, a little impatiently.

“Yes; find Helen, and you have the two,” broke in Jasper.  “Just have the goodness, Hannah, to produce Helen.”

“Miss Helen isn’t home,” said Hannah.  “She went to Greenpoint yesterday with Mrs. Fargo to spend Sunday.”

“Why,” exclaimed Polly in bewilderment, “Mamsie said she told Phronsie right after breakfast that she could come over here.”

“She hasn’t been here,” said the maid positively.  “I know for certain sure, Miss Mary.  Has she, Jane?” appealing to another maid coming down the hall.

“No,” said Jane.  “She hasn’t been here for ever so many days.”

“Phronsie played around outside probably,” said Jasper quickly; “anyway, she’s home now.  Come on, Polly.  She’ll run out to meet us.”

“Oh, Jasper! do you suppose she will?” cried Polly, unable to stifle an undefinable dread.  She was running now on frightened feet, Jasper having hard work to keep up with her, and the two dashed through the little gate in the hedge where Phronsie was accustomed to let herself through on the only walk she was ever allowed to take alone, and into the house where Polly cried to the first person she met, “Where’s Phronsie?” to be met with what she dreaded, “Gone over to Helen Fargo’s.”