“I want immensely to hear it!” declared the old gentleman, pulling up an easy-chair to the fireside.  “There now,” sitting down, “I’m fixed.  Now proceed, my dear.”

Van softly clapped his hands.  “Phronsie,” Mr. King beckoned to her, and then suggestively touched his knee, “here, dear.”

Phronsie scurried across the room to his side.  “Yes, Grandpapa.”

“There, up she goes!” sang Mr. King, swinging her into position on his lap.  “Now then, Polly, my child, we are all ready for the wonderful tale.  Stay, where is Joel?”

“Joel went upstairs a little while ago,” said Jasper quickly.  “Well, now, Polly, do begin.”

“I’ll tell how we went to buy Phronsie’s shoes,” said Polly, drawing up an ottoman to Mr. King’s side.  “Now, boys, bring your chairs up.”

“Joel ought to know that you are going to tell a story, Polly,” said Mr. King.  “One of you boys run out and call him at the foot of the stairs.”

“He’s in Mamsie’s room,” said Ben.  “I suppose when she gets through with him, he’ll come down.”

“Oh! ah!” said the old gentleman.  “Well, Polly, then perhaps you would better proceed.”

So Polly began on the never tiresome recital, how Phronsie fell down the stairs leading from the kitchen to the “provision room” in the little brown house, with the bread-knife in her hand; and how, because she cut her thumb so that it bled dreadfully, mother decided that she could at last have a pair of shoes bought especially for her very own self; and how Deacon Brown’s old horse and wagon were procured, and they all set forth, except mother, and how they rode to town, and how the Beebes were just as good as gold, and how the red-topped shoes fitted as if they were made for Phronsie’s feet, and how they all went home, and how Phronsie danced around the kitchen till she was all tired out, and then went to bed carrying the new shoes with her, and how she fell asleep with—­

“Why, I declare,” exclaimed Polly, reaching this denouement in a delightfully roundabout way, “if she isn’t asleep now!”

And indeed she was.  So she had to be carried up to bed in the same old way; only this time it was Jasper instead of Polly who held her.

“Don’t you believe we’d better put it off till some other night?” whispered Percy to Van on the way upstairs to bed, the library party having broken up early.  “A fellow doesn’t want to see a burglar on top of the time Joel has had.”

“No, no,” said Van; “it’ll be good for him, and knock the other thing out of his head, don’t you see, Percy?  I should want something else to think of if I were Joel.  You can’t back out; you promised, you know.”

“Well, and I’ll do it,” said Percy testily.

“It’s no use trying to sleep,” declared Joel, in the middle of the night, and kicking the bedclothes for the dozenth time into a roll at the foot, “as long as I can see Mamsie’s eyes.  I’ll just get up and tackle that Latin grammar now.  Whew! haven’t I got to work, though!  Might as well begin at it,” and he jumped out of bed.