dren, and I don't think they
like to be called anything else."

"Well, they sha'n't hear it, then," declared Alexia decidedly, "so get
some of them, and brush their hair, just as you were doing when I came
in, and I'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books,
Phronsie."

"Oh--oh!" Phronsie clapped her hands in glee. Next to Polly's stories,
which of course she couldn't have now as Polly was at school, Phronsie
dearly loved to be read to. But she suddenly grew very sober again.

"Are you sure you will like it, Alexia?" she asked, coming up to peer
into Alexia's face.

"Yes, yes, Pet, to be sure I will," cried Alexia, seizing her to half
smother her with kisses. "Why, Phronsie, it will make me very happy
indeed."

"Well, if it will really make you happy, Alexia," said Phronsie,
smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, "I will get my
children." And she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful.

"Now what book?" asked Alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not,
and flying to her feet. "I'm going down to your bookshelf to get it."

"Oh Alexia," cried Phronsie in great excitement, "will you--could you
get 'The Little Yellow Duck'?"

As this was the book Phronsie invariably chose when asked what she
wanted read, Alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find
that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. And when she came
back two steps at a time up the stairs, Phronsie was smiling away, and
humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on.

"She had a blue ribbon on yesterday--Almira did," said Phronsie,
reflecting. "Now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, Alexia?"

"I surely should," decided Alexia--"that pretty pale pink one that Polly
gave you last, Phronsie."

"I am so very glad you said that one," said Phronsie, running over on
happy feet for her ribbon-basket, "because I do love that ribbon very
much, Alexia."

"Well, now then," said Alexia, as Phronsie began to tie up the pink bow
laboriously, "we must hurry and begin, or we never shall see what
happened to this 'Little Yellow Duck.'"

"Oh, do hurry, Alexia," begged Phronsie, as if she hadn't heard the
story on an average of half a dozen times a week. So Alexia propped
herself up against the wall, and began, and presently it was so still
that all any one could hear was the turning of the leaves and the
ticking of the little French clock on the mantel.

"Well, dear me, how funny!"