"That torture chamber!" exclaimed Jasper; "how any one can hang over those things, I don't see; for my part, I'd rather have my time somewhere else."
"Oh, I like them," said Adela, in great satisfaction, "and I've got a picture of the 'Iron Virgin.'"
"That was a good idea, to put the old scold into that wooden tub concern," said Jasper; "there was some sense in that. I took a picture of it, and the old tower itself. I got a splendid photograph of it, if it will only develop well," he added. "Oh, but the buildings—was ever anything so fine as those old Nuremberg houses, with their high-peaked gables! I have quantities of them—thanks to my kodak."
"What's this station, I wonder?" asked Polly, as the train slowed up.
Two ladies on the platform made a sudden dash at their compartment."All full," said the guard, waving them off.
"That was Fanny Vanderburgh," gasped Polly.
"And her mother," added Jasper.
"Who was it?" demanded old Mr. King.
His consternation, when they told him, was so great, that Jasper racked his brains some way to avoid the meeting.
"If once we were at Bayreuth, it's possible that we might not come across them, father, for we could easily be lost in the crowd."
"No such good luck," groaned old Mr. King, which was proved true. For the first persons who walked into the hotel, as the manager was giving directions that the rooms reserved for their party should be shown them, were Mrs. Vanderburgh and her daughter.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Vanderburgh, as if her dearest friends were before her, "how glad I am to see you again, dear Mr. King, and you all." She swept Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Henderson lightly in her glance as if toleration only were to be observed toward them. "We have been perfectlydésoléewithout you, Polly, my dear," she went on, with a charming smile. "Fanny will be happy once more. She has been disconsolate ever since we parted, I assure you."
Polly made some sort of a reply, and greeted Fanny, as of old times, on the steamer; but Mrs. Vanderburgh went on, all smiles and eagerness—so rapidly in her friendly intentions, that it boded ill for the future peace of Mr. King's party. So Mr. King broke into the torrent of words at once, without any more scruple. "And now, Mrs. Vanderburgh, if you will excuse us, we are quite tired, and are going to our rooms." And he bowed himself off, and of course his family followed; the next moment Fanny and her mother were alone.
"If this is to be the way," said Mrs. Vanderburgh, with a savage little laugh, "we might much better have stayed in Paris, for I never should have thought, as you know, Fanny, of coming to this out-of-the-way place, seeing that I don't care for the music, if I hadn't heard them say on the steamer that this was their date here."
"Well, I wish that I was at home," declared Fanny, passionately, "and I never, never will come to Europe, Mamma, again as long as I live. You are always chasing after people who run away from you, and those who like me, you won't let me speak to."
"Well, I shall be thankful for the day when you are once in society," said her mother, every shred of self-control now gone; "and I shall sell my tickets for this old Wagner festival, and go back to Paris to-morrow morning."
At that, Fanny broke into a dismal fit of complaining, which continued all the time they were dressing for dinner, and getting settled in their room, and then at intervals through that meal.
Polly looked over at her gloomy face, three tables off, and her own fell.
"You are not eating anything, child," said Grandpapa, presently, with a keen glance at her. "Let me order something more."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa," and "yes, I will," she cried, incoherently, making a great effort to enjoy the nice things he piled on her plate.
Jasper followed her glance as it rested on the Vanderburgh table. "They will spoil everything," he thought. "And to think it should happen at Bayreuth."
"Yes, we are going," said Fanny Vanderburgh as they met after dinner in the corridor. Her eyes were swollen, and she twisted her handkerchief in her fingers. "And I did—did—did—" here she broke down and sobbed—"so want to hear the Wagner operas."
"Don't cry," begged Polly, quite shocked. "Oh, Fanny, why can't you stay? How very dreadful to lose the Wagner music!" Polly could think of no worse calamity that could befall one.
"Mamma doesn't know anybody here except your party," mumbled Fanny, "and she's upset, and declares that we must go back to Paris to-morrow. Oh, Polly Pepper, I hate Paris," she exploded. And then sobbed worse than ever.
"Wait here," said Polly, "till I come back." Then she ran on light feet to Grandpapa, just settling behind a newspaper in a corner of the general reading room.
"Grandpapa, dear, may I speak to you a minute?" asked Polly, with a woful feeling at her heart. It seemed as if he must hear it beating.
"Why, yes, child, to be sure," said Mr. King, quite surprised at her manner. "What is it?" and he laid aside his paper and smiled reassuringly.
But Polly's heart sank worse than ever. "Grandpapa," she began desperately, "Fanny Vanderburgh is feeling dreadfully."
"And I should think she would with such a mother," exclaimed the old gentleman, but in a guarded tone. "Well, what of it, Polly?"
"Grandpapa," said Polly, "she says her mother is going to take her back to Paris tomorrow morning."
"How very fine!" exclaimed Mr. King, approvingly; "that is the best thing I have heard yet. Always bring me such good news, Polly, and I will lay down my newspapers willingly any time." And he gave a pleased little laugh.
"But, Grandpapa—" and Polly's face drooped, and there was such a sad little note in her voice, that the laugh dropped out of his. "Fanny wanted above all things to hear the Wagner operas—just think of losing those!" Polly clasped her hands, and every bit of colour flew from her cheek.
"Well, what can I do about it?" asked the old gentleman, in a great state of perturbation. "Speak out, child, and tell me what you want."
"Only if I can be pleasant to Fanny," said Polly, a wave of colour rushing over her face. "I mean if I may go with her? Can I, Grandpapa, this very evening, just as if—" she hesitated.
"As if what, Polly?"
"As if we all liked them," finished Polly, feeling as if the words must be said.
There was an awful pause in which Polly had all she could do to keep from rushing from the room. Then Grandpapa said, "If you can stand it, Polly, you may do as you like, but I warn you to keep them away from me." And he went back to his paper.
Jasper turned around to gaze at the vast audience filing into theWagner Opera House before he took his seat. "This makes me think ofOberammergau, Polly," he said.
"To think you've seen the Passion Play," she cried, with glowing cheeks.
"That was when I was such a little chap," said Jasper, "ages ago,—nine years, Polly Pepper,—just think; so it will be as good as new next year. Father is thinking a good deal of taking you there next summer."
"Jasper," cried Polly, her cheeks all in a glow, and regardless of next neighbours, "what can I ever do to repay your father for being so very good to me and to all of us?"
"Why, you can keep on making him comfortable, just as you are doing now, Polly," replied Jasper. "He said yesterday it made him grow younger every minute to look at you. And you know he's never sick now, and he was always having those bad attacks. Don't you remember when we first came to Hingham, Polly?" as they took their seats.
"O dear me, I guess I do, Jasper, and how you saved Phronsie from being carried off by the big organ man," and she shivered even now at this lapse of years. "And all the splendid times at Badgertown and the little brown—"
Just then a long hand came in between the people in the seat back of them. "I'm no end glad to see you!" exclaimed a voice. It was Tom Selwyn.
"I'm going over into that vacant seat." Tom forgot his fear of Polly and his hatred of girls generally, and rushed around the aisle to plunge awkwardly into the seat just back of Jasper. "I'll stay here till the person comes." His long arms came in contact with several obstacles, such as sundry backs and shoulders in his progress, but he had no time to consider such small things or to notice the black looks he got in consequence.
"Now, isn't this jolly!" he exclaimed. Jasper was guilty of staring at him; there seemed such a change in the boy, he could hardly believe it was really and truly Tom Selwyn.
"My grandfather is well now, and he would have sent some message to you if he knew I was to run across you," went on Tom, looking at Jasper, but meaning Polly; "did you get a little trifle he sent you some weeks ago? He's been in a funk about it because he didn't hear."
Wasn't Polly glad that her little note was on the way, and perhaps in the old gentleman's hands at this very time!
"Yes," she said, "and he was very kind and—" Tom fumbled his tickets all the while, and broke in abruptly.
"I didn't know as you'd like it, but it made him sick not to do it, and so the thing went. Glad it didn't make you mad," he ended suddenly.
"He meant it all right, I'm sure," said Jasper, seeing that Polly couldn't speak.
"Didn't he though!" exclaimed Tom.
"And it didn't come till the day we left Heidelberg," said Polly, finding her tongue, and speaking rapidly to explain the delay; "that was a week ago."
"Whew!" whistled Tom; "oh, beg pardon!" for several people turned around and stared; so he ducked his head, and was mostly lost to view for a breathing space. When he thought they had forgotten him, he bobbed it up. "Why, Grandfather picked it out—had a bushel of things sent up from London to choose from, you know, weeks and weeks ago, as soon as he got up to London. That's no end queer."
"No," said Polly, "it didn't come till then. And I wrote to your grandfather the next morning and thanked him."
"Now you did!" exclaimed Tom, in huge delight, and slapping his knee with one long hand. "That's no end good of you." He couldn't conceal how glad he was, and grinned all over his face.
At this moment Mrs. Vanderburgh, who, seeing Fanny so happy again, concluded to stay on the strength of resurrected hopes of Polly Pepper's friendship, sailed into the opera house, with her daughter. And glancing across the aisle, for their seats were at the side, she caught sight of the party she was looking for, and there was a face she knew, but wasn't looking for.
"Fanny," she cried, clutching her arm, "there is Tom Selwyn! Well, now wearein luck!" And Tom saw her, and again he ducked, but for a different reason. When he raised his head, he glanced cautiously in the direction he dreaded. "There's that horrible person," he whispered in Jasper's ear.
"Who?" asked Jasper, in astonishment.
"That woman on the steamer—you knew her—and she was looking straight at us. Duck for your life, Jasper King!"
"Oh, that," said Jasper, coolly, following the bob of his head. "Yes,Mrs. Vanderburgh, I know; and she is at our hotel."
"The dickens! And you're alive!" Tom raised his head and regarded him as a curiosity.
"Very much so," answered Jasper, smothering a laugh; "well, we mustn't talk any more."
Polly was sitting straight, her hands folded in her lap, with no thought for audience, or anything but what she was to see and hear on that wonderful stage. Old Mr. King leaned past Parson Henderson, and gazed with the greatest satisfaction at her absorbed face.
"I pity anybody," he said to himself, "who hasn't some little Peppers to take about; I only wish I had the boys, too. But fancy Joel listening to 'Parsifal'!"
This idea completely overcame him, and he settled back into his seat with a grim smile.
Polly never knew that Mamsie, with a happy look in her black eyes, was regarding her intently, too, nor that many a glance was given to the young girl whose colour came and went in her cheek, nor that Jasper sometimes spoke a low word or two. She was lost in the entrancing world of mystery and legend borne upward by the grand music, and she scarcely moved.
"Well, Polly." Old Mr. King was smiling at her and holding out his hand. The curtains had closed for the intermission, and all the people were getting out of their chairs. Polly sat still and drew a long breath. "Oh, Grandpapa, must we go?"
"Yes, indeed, I hope so," answered Mr. King, with a little laugh. "We shall have none too much time for our supper, Polly, as it is."
Polly got out of her seat, very much wishing that supper was not one of the needful things of life.
"It almost seems wicked to think of eating, Jasper," she said, as they picked up their hats and capes, where he had tucked them under the seats.
"It would be more wicked not to eat," said Jasper, with a little laugh, "and I think you'll find some supper tastes good, when we get fairly at it, Polly."
"I suppose so," said Polly, feeling dreadfully stiff in her feet, and beginning to wish she could have a good run.
"And what we should do with you if we didn't stop for supper," observedJasper, snapping the case to the opera-glasses, "I'm sure I don't know,Polly. I spoke to you three times, and you didn't hear me once."
"Oh, Jasper!" exclaimed Polly, in horror, pausing as she was pinning on her big, flowered hat, with the roses all around the brim; "O dear me, there it goes!" as the hat spun over into the next row.
"I'll get it," cried Tom Selwyn, vaulting over the tops of the seats before Jasper had a chance to try for it.
Just then Mrs. Vanderburgh, who hadn't heard any more of the opera than could fit itself into her lively plans for the campaign she laid out to accomplish in siege of Tom Selwyn, pushed and elbowed herself along. "Of course the earl isn't here—and the boy is alone, and dreadfully taken with Jasper King, so I can manage him. And once getting him, I'll soon have the earl to recognise me as a relation." Then, oh! visions of the golden dream of bliss when she could visit such titled kin in Old England, and report it all when at home in New York, filled her head. And with her mind eaten up with it, she pushed rudely by a plain, somewhat dowdy-looking woman who obstructed her way.
The woman raised a quiet, yet protesting face; but Mrs. Vanderburgh, related to an earl, surveyed her haughtily, and pressed on.
"Excuse me," said the plain-looking woman, "but it is impossible for me to move; the people are coming out this way, Madam, and—"
"And I must get by," answered Mrs. Vanderburgh, interrupting, and wriggling past as well as she could. But the lace on her flowing sleeve catching on the umbrella handle of a stout German coming the other way, she tore it half across. A dark flush of anger rushed over her face, and she vented all her spite on the plain-looking person in her path. "If you had moved, this wouldn't have happened!" she exclaimed.
"It was impossible for me to do so," replied the woman, just as quietly as ever. Just then Tom Selwyn rushed up: "Mother!" to the plain-looking woman; "well, wedidget separated! Oh!" and seeing her companion he plunged back.
Fanny Vanderburgh, well in the rear, a party of young German girls impeding the way, felt her mother's grasp, and looked around.
"Oh, you've torn your lace sleeve!" she exclaimed, supposing the black looks referred to that accident.
"Torn my sleeve!" echoed her mother, irately, "that's a trifle," while Fanny stared in surprise, knowing, by past experience, that much lesser accidents had made black days for her; "I'm the unluckiest person alive. And think of all the money your father has given me to spend, and it won't do any good. Fanny, I'm going straight back to Paris, as quickly as possible."
"Why, I'm having a good time now," said Fanny, just beginning to enjoy herself. "Polly Pepper is real nice to me. I don't want to go home a bit." All this as they slowly filed out in the throng.
"Well, you're going; and, oh, those Peppers and those Kings, I'm sick to death of their names," muttered her mother, frowning on her.
"Why can't we wait for Polly?" asked Fanny, not catching the last words, and pausing to look back.
"Because you can't, that's why. And never say a word about that Polly Pepper or any of the rest of that crowd," commanded her mother, trying to hurry on.
"Polly Pepper is the sweetest girl—the very dearest," declared Fanny, in a passion, over her mother's shoulder, "and you know it, Mamma."
"Well, I won't have you going with her, anyway, nor with any of them," answered her mother, shortly.
"Because you can't," echoed Fanny, in her turn, and with a malicious little laugh. "Don't I know? it's the same old story—those you chase after, run away from you. You've been chasing, Mamma; you needn't tell me."
"Oh, Jasper," Polly was saying, "did you really speak to me?"
"Three times," said Jasper, with a laugh, "but you couldn't answer, for you didn't hear me."
"No," said Polly, "I didn't, Jasper."
"And I shouldn't have spoken, for it isn't, of course, allowed. But I couldn't help it, Polly, it was so splendid," and his eyes kindled. "And you didn't seem to breathe or to move."
"I don't feel as if I had done much of either," said Polly, laughing. "Isn't it good to take a long stretch? And oh, don't you wish we could run, Jasper?"
He burst into another gay little laugh, as he picked up the rest of the things. "I thought so, Polly, and you'll want some supper yet. Well, here is Tom coming back again."
"Indeed I shall, and a big one, Jasper," said Polly, laughing, "for I am dreadfully hungry."
"Come to supper with us," Jasper said socially over the backs of several people, in response to Tom Selwyn's furious telegraphing.
"Can't," said Tom, bobbing his head; "must stay with my mother. Thought you never would turn around." Jasper looked his surprise, and involuntarily glanced by Tom. "Yes, my mother's here; we've got separated, she's gone ahead," said Tom, jerking his head toward the nearest exit. "She says we'll go and see you. Where?"
"Hotel Sonne," said Jasper.
Tom disappeared—rushed off to his mother to jerk himself away to a convenient waiting-place till the disagreeable woman on the steamer had melted into space. Then he flew back, and in incoherent sentences made Mrs. Selwyn comprehend who she was, and the whole situation.
The earl's daughter was a true British matron, and preserved a quiet, immovable countenance; only a grim smile passed over it now and then. At last she remarked coolly, as if commenting on the weather, "I don't believe she will trouble you, my son." Never a word about the lace episode or the crowding process.
Tom sniffed uneasily. "You haven't crossed on a steamer with her, mother."
"Never you mind." Mrs. Selwyn gave him a pat on the back. "Tom, let us talk about those nice people," as they filed slowly out with the crowd.
Not a word did Tom lisp about the invitation to supper, but tucked his mother's arm loyally within his own. "Sorry I forgot to engage a table!" he exclaimed, as they entered the restaurant.
"Why, there is Tom!" exclaimed Jasper, craning his neck as his party were about to sit down. "Father, Tom Selwyn is here with his mother, and they can't find places, I almost know, and we might have two more chairs easily at our table," he hurried it all out.
"What is all this about?" demanded old Mr. King; "whom are you talking about, pray tell, Jasper?"
So Jasper ran around to his father's chair and explained. The end of it all was, that he soon hurried off, being introduced to Tom's mother, to whom he presented his father's compliments, and would she do him the favour to join their party? And in ten minutes, every one felt well acquainted with the English matron, and entirely forgot that she was an earl's daughter. And Tom acquitted himself well, and got on famously with old Mr. King.
But he didn't dare talk to Polly, but edged away whenever there was the least chance of matters falling out so that he would have to.
And then it came out that the Selwyns thought of going to Munich and down to Lucerne.
"And the Bernese Alps," put in Jasper, across the table. "How is that, Tom, for an outing? Can't you do it?" For it transpired that Mrs. Selwyn had left the other children, two girls and two smaller boys, with their grandfather, on the English estate. They all called this place home since the father was in a business in Australia that required many long visits, and Tom's mother had decided that he should have a bit of a vacation with her, so they had packed up and off, taking in the Wagner festival first, and here they were. "Yes," after she considered a bit, "we can do that. Join the party and then over to Lucerne, and perhaps take in the Bernese Alps."
Only supposing that Polly's letter hadn't gone to the little old earl, Jasper kept saying over and over to himself. Just for one minute, suppose it!
And in the midst of it all, the horn sounded; the intermission was over, chairs were pushed back hastily, and all flocked off. No one must be late, and there must be no noisy or bustling entrances into the opera house.
And if Polly Pepper sat entranced through the rest of the matchless performance, Tom Selwyn—three seats back and off to the left—was just as quietly happy. But he wasn't thinking so much of "Parsifal" as might have been possible. "It's no end fine of the little mother to say 'yes,'" he kept running over and over to himself, with a satisfied glance at the quiet face under the plain, English bonnet.
"It's funny we don't see Fanny Vanderburgh anywhere," said Polly, as they went through the corridor and up the hotel stairs that night.
"She and her mother probably came home earlier," said Mrs. Fisher; "you know we were delayed, waiting for our carriages. You will see her in the morning, Polly."
But in the morning, it was ten o'clock before Mr. King's party gathered for breakfast, for Grandpapa always counselled sleeping late when out the night before. And when Polly did slip into her chair, there was a little note lying on her plate.
"Fanny Vanderburgh has gone," she said, and turned quite pale.
It was too true. Mrs. Vanderburgh had sold her two tickets to the"Flying Dutchman," to be presented that evening, and departed fromBayreuth.
"It's no use, Polly," Fanny's note ran, "trying to make me have a good time. Mamma says we are to go back to Paris; and go we must. You've been lovely, and I thank you ever so much, and good-by."
Mother Fisher found Polly, a half-hour later, curled up in a corner of the old sofa in her room, her face pressed into the cushion.
"Why, Polly," exclaimed her mother, seeing the shaking shoulders, and, bending over her, she smoothed the brown hair gently, "this isn't right, child—"
Polly sprang up suddenly and threw her arms around her mother's neck. Her face was wet with tears, and she sobbed out, "Oh, if I'd done more for her, Mamsie, or been pleasant to Mrs. Vanderburgh, she might have stayed."
"You haven't any call to worry, Polly, child," said Mother Fisher, firmly. "You did all that could be done—and remember one thing, it's very wrong to trouble others as you certainly will if you give way to your feelings in this manner."
"Mamsie," exclaimed Polly, suddenly wiping away the trail of tears from her cheek, "I won't cry a single bit more. You can trust me, Mamsie, I truly won't."
"Trust you," said Mother Fisher, with a proud look in her black eyes, "I can trust you ever and always, Polly; and now run to Mr. King and let him see a bright face, for he's worrying about you, Polly."
"Oh Jasper," exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands, "do you suppose we'll ever get to a piano where it's all alone, and nobody wants to play on it—"
"But just you and I," finished Jasper. "I declare I don't know. You see we don't stay still long enough in any one place to hire a decent one; and besides, father said, when we started, that it was better for us to rest and travel about without any practising this summer. You know he did, Polly."
"I know it," said Polly; "but oh, if we could just play once in a while," she added mournfully.
"Well, we can't," said Jasper, savagely; "you know we tried that at Brussels, when we thought everybody had gone off. And those half a dozen idiots came and stared at us through the glass door."
"And then they came in," added Polly, with a little shiver at the recollection. "But that big fat man with the black beard was the worst, Jasper." She glanced around as if she expected to see him coming down the long parlour.
"Well, he didn't hear much; there didn't any of them," said Jasper; "that's some small satisfaction, because you hopped off the piano stool and ran away."
"You ran just as fast, I'm sure, Jasper," said Polly, with a little laugh.
"Well, perhaps I did," confessed Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "Who wouldn't run with a lot of staring idiots flying at one?" he brought up in disgust.
"And we forgot the music," went on Polly, deep in the reminiscence, "and we wouldn't go back—don't you remember?—until the big fat man with the dreadful black beard had gone, for he'd picked it up and been looking at it."
"Yes, I remember all about it," said Jasper; "dear me, what a time we had! It's enough to make one wish that the summer was all over, and that we were fairly settled in Dresden," he added gloomily, as he saw her face.
"Oh, no," exclaimed Polly, quickly, and quite shocked to see the mischief that she had done.
"We wouldn't have the beautiful summer go a bit faster, Jasper. Why, that would be too dreadful to think of."
"But you want to get at your music, Polly."
"I'll fly at it when the time comes," cried Polly, with a wise little nod, "never you fear, Jasper. Now come on; let's get Phronsie and go out and see the shops."
Old Mr. King in a nook behind the curtain, dropped the newspaper in his lap and thought a bit. "Best to wait till we get to Lucerne," he said to himself, nodding his white head; "then, says I, Polly, my child, you shall have your piano."
And when their party were settling down in the hotel at Lucerne, ending the beautiful days of travel after leaving Munich, Jasper's father called him abruptly. "See here, my boy."
"What is it, father?" asked Jasper, wonderingly; "the luggage is all right; it's gone up to the rooms—all except the portmanteau, and Francis will go down to the station and straighten that out."
"I'm not in the least troubled in regard to the luggage, Jasper," replied his father, testily; "it's something much more important than the luggage question about which I wish to speak to you."
Jasper stared, well knowing his father's views in regard to the luggage question. "The first thing that you must unpack—the very first," old Mr. King was saying, "is your music. Don't wait a minute, Jasper, but go and get it. And then call Polly, and—"
"Why, father," exclaimed Jasper, "there isn't a single place to play in. You don't know how people stare if we touch the piano. We can't here, father; there's such a crowd in this hotel."
"You do just as I say, Jasper," commanded his father. "And tell Polly to get her music; and then do you two go to the little room out of the big parlour, and play to your hearts' content." And he burst into a hearty laugh at Jasper's face, as he dangled a key at the end of a string, before him.
"Now I do believe, father, that you've got Polly a piano and a little room to play in," cried Jasper, joyfully, and pouncing on the key.
"You go along and do as I tell you," said Mr. King, mightily pleased at the success of his little plan. "And don't you tell Polly Pepper one word until she has taken her music down in the little room," as Jasper bounded off on the wings of the wind.
And in that very hotel was the big fat man with the dreadful black beard, resting after a long season of hard work.
But Polly and Jasper wouldn't have cared had they known it, as long as they had their own delightful little music room to themselves—as they played over and over all the dear old pieces, and Polly revelled in everything that she was so afraid she had forgotten.
"I really haven't lost it, Jasper!" she would exclaim radiantly, after finishing a concerto, and dropping her hands idly on the keys. "And I wassoafraid I'd forgotten it entirely. Just think, I haven't played that for three months, Jasper King."
"Well, you haven't forgotten a bit of it," declared Jasper, just as glad as she was. "You didn't make any mistakes, hardly, Polly."
"Oh, yes, I made some," said Polly, honestly, whirling around on the piano stool to look at him.
"Oh, well, only little bits of ones," said Jasper; "those don't signify. I wish father could have heard that concerto. What a pity he went out just before you began it."
But somebody else, on the other side of the partition between the little music room and the big parlour, had heard, and he pulled his black beard thoughtfully with his long fingers, then pricked up his ears to hear more. And it was funny how, almost every day, whenever the first notes on the piano struck up in Mr. King's little music room, the big fat man, who was so tired with his season of hard work, never seemed to think that he could rest as well as in that particular corner up against that partition. And no matter what book or paper he had in his hand, he always dropped it and fell to pulling his black beard with his long fingers, before the music was finished.
And then, "Oh, Polly, come child, you have played long enough," from Mother Fisher on the other side of the partition; or old Mr. King would say, "No more practising to-day, Miss Polly;" or Phronsie would pipe out, "Polly, Grandpapa is going to take us out on the lake; do come, Polly." And then it was funnier yet to see how suddenly the big fat man with the dreadful black beard seemed to find that particular corner by that partition a very tiresome place. And as the piano clicked down its cover, he would yawn, and get up and say something in very rapid German to himself, and off he would go, forgetting all about his book or newspaper, which, very likely, would tumble to the floor, and flap away by itself till somebody came and picked it up and set it on the sofa.
One morning old Mr. King, hurrying along with his batch of English mail to enjoy opening it in the little music room where Jasper and Polly were playing a duet, ran up suddenly against a fat heavy body coming around an opposite angle.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir," exclaimed Mr. King in great distress, the more so as he saw that the stranger's glasses were knocked off his nose by the collision. "I do trust they are not broken," he added, in a concerned tone, endeavouring to pick them up.
But the big man was before him. "Not a beet, not a beet," he declared, adjusting them on his nose again. Then he suddenly grasped old Mr. King's hand. "And I be very glad, sir,veryglad indeed, dat I haf roon into you."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. King, releasing his hand instantly, and all the concern dropping out of his face.
"Veryglad indeed!" repeated the big man, heartily; then he pulled his black beard, and stood quite still a moment.
"If you have nothing more to remark, sir," said Mr. King, haughtily, "perhaps you will be kind enough to stand out of my way, and allow me to pass. And it would be as well for you to observe more care in the future, sir, both in regard to your feet, and your tongue, sir."
"Yes, I amveryglad," began the big man again, who hadn't even heard Mr. King's tirade, "for now—" and he gave his black beard a final twitch, and his eyes suddenly lightened with a smile that ran all over his face, "I can speak to you of dis ting dat is in my mind. Your—"
"I want to hear nothing of what is on your mind," declared old Mr. King, now thoroughly angry. "Stand aside, fellow, and let me pass," he commanded, in a towering passion.
The big man stared in astonishment into the angry face, the smile dropping out of his own. "I beg to _ex_cuse myself," he said, with a deep bow, and a wave of his long fingers. "Will you pass?" and he moved up as tightly as possible to the wall.
Old Mr. King went into the little music room in a furious rage, and half an hour afterward Polly and Jasper, pausing to look around, saw him tossing and tumbling his letters and newspapers about on the table, fuming to himself all the while.
"Father has had bad news!" exclaimed Jasper, turning pale; "something about his agents, probably."
"O dear me! and here we have been playing," cried Polly in remorse, every vestige of colour flying from her cheek.
"Well, we didn't know," said Jasper, quickly. "But what can we do now,Polly?" he turned to her appealingly.
"I don't know," she was just going to say helplessly, but Jasper's face made her see that something must be done. "Let's go and tell him we are sorry," she said; "that's what Mamsie always liked best if she felt badly."
So the two crept up behind old Mr. King's chair: "Father, I'msosorry," and "Dear Grandpapa, I'msosorry," and Polly put both arms around his neck suddenly.
"Eh—what?" cried Mr. King, sitting bolt upright in astonishment. "Oh, bless me, children, I thought you were playing on the piano."
"We were," said Polly, hurrying around to the side of the table, her face quite rosy now, "but we didn't know—" and she stopped short, unable to find another word.
"—that you felt badly," finished Jasper. "Oh, father, we didn't know that you'd got bad news." He laid his hand as he spoke on the pile of tumbled-up letters.
"Bad news!" ejaculated old Mr. King, in perplexity, and looking from one to the other.
"No, we didn't," repeated Polly, clasping her hands. "Dear Grandpapa, we truly didn't, or we wouldn't have kept on playing all this time."
Mr. King put back his head and laughed long and loud, as he hadn't done for many a day, his ill humour dropping off in the midst of it. "The letters are all right," he said, wiping his eyes, "never had better news. It was an impertinent fellow I met out there, that's all."
"Father, who has dared—" began Jasper, with flashing eyes.
"Don't you worry, my boy; it's all right, the fellow got his quietus; besides, he wasn't worth minding," said Mr. King, carelessly. "Why, here is your mother," turning to Polly. "Now then, Mrs. Fisher, what is it; for I see by your eye some plan is on the carpet."
"Yes, there is," said Mrs. Fisher, coming in with a smile, "the doctor is going to take a day off."
"Is that really so?" cried Mr. King, with a little laugh. "What! not even going to visit one of his beloved hospitals?" while Polly exclaimed, radiantly, "Oh, how perfectly elegant! Now we'll have Papa-Doctor for a whole long day!"
Phronsie, who had been close to her mother's gown during the delivery of this important news, clasped her hands in a quiet rapture, while Polly exclaimed, "Now, Grandpapa, can it be the Rigi?" Jasper echoing the cry heartily.
"I suppose it is to be the Rigi," assented old Mr. King, leaning back in his chair to survey them all, "that is, if Mrs. Fisher approves. We'll let you pick out the jaunting place," turning to her, "seeing that it is the doctor's holiday."
"I know that Dr. Fisher wants very much to go up the Rigi," said his wife, in great satisfaction at the turn the plans were taking.
"And we'll stay over night, father," cried Jasper, "won't we?"
"Stay over night?" repeated his father, "I should say so. Why, what would be the good of our going up at all, pray tell, if we didn't devote that much time to it and have a try for a sunrise?"
"We're to go up the Rigi!" exclaimed Polly, giving a little whirl, and beginning to dance around the room, repeating, "We're to go up the Rigi," exactly as if nobody knew it, and she was telling perfectly fresh news.
"Here—that dance looks awfully good—wait for me," cried Jasper. And seizing her hands, they spun round and round, Phronsie scuttling after them, crying, "Take me, too. I want to dance, Polly."
"So you shall," cried Polly and Jasper together; so they made a little ring of three, and away they went, Polly this time crying, "Just think, we're going to have the most beautiful sunrise in all this world."
And on the other side of the partition, in his accustomed nook in the big parlour, the big fat man with the black beard sat. He pulled this same black beard thoughtfully a bit, when Mr. King was telling about the impertinent fellow. Then he smiled and jabbered away to himself very hard in German; and it wasn't till the King party hurried off to get ready for the Rigi trip, that he got up and sauntered off.
And almost the first person that old Mr. King saw on getting his party into a car on the funicular railway, was the "impertinent fellow," also bound for the top of the Rigi.
"Oh, Grandpapa!" Polly got out of her seat and hurried to him with cheeks aflame, when midway up.
"I know—isn't it wonderful!" cried Grandpapa, happy in her pleasure, and finding it all just as marvellous as if he hadn't made the ascent several times.
"Yes, yes!" cried Polly. "It is all perfectly splendid, Grandpapa; but oh, I mean,didyou hear what that lady said?" and she dropped her voice, and put her mouth close to Grandpapa's ear.
"I'm sure I didn't," said old Mr. King, carelessly, "and I'm free to confess I'm honestly glad of it. For if there is one thing I detest more than another, Polly, my girl, it is to hear people, especially women, rave and gush over the scenery."
"Oh, she didn't rave and gush," cried Polly, in a whisper, afraid that the lady heard. "She said, Grandpapa, that Herr Bauricke is at Lucerne; just think, Grandpapa, the great Herr Bauricke!"
She took her mouth away from the old gentleman's ear in order to look in his face.
"Polly, Polly," called Jasper from his seat on the farther end, "you are losing all this," as the train rounded a curve. "Do come back."
"Now, I'm glad of that," exclaimed Grandpapa, in a tone of the greatest satisfaction, "for I can ask him about the music masters in Dresden and get his advice, and be all prepared before we go there for the winter to secure the very best."
"And I can see him, and perhaps hear him play," breathed Polly, in an awestruck tone, quite lost to scenery and everything else. Jasper leaned forward and stared at her in amazement. Then he slipped out of his seat, and made his way up to them to find out what it was all about.
"How did she know?" he asked, as Polly told all she knew; "I'm just going to ask her." But the lady, who had caught snatches of the conversation, though she hadn't heard Mr. King's part of it, very obligingly leaned forward in her seat and told all she knew.
And by the time this was done, they all knew that the information was in the American paper printed in Paris, and circulated all over the Continent, and that the lady had read it that very morning just before setting out.
"The only time I missed reading that paper," observed old Mr. King, regretfully.
"And he is staying at our very hotel," finished the lady, "for I have seen you, sir, with your party there."
"Another stroke of good luck," thought old Mr. King, "and quite easy to obtain the information I want as to a master for Polly and Jasper."
"Now then, children," he said to the two hanging on the conversation, "run back to your seats and enjoy the view. This news of ours will keep."
So Polly and Jasper ran back obediently, but every step of the toilsome ascent by which the car pushed its way to the wonderful heights above, Polly saw everything with the words, "Herr Bauricke is atourhotel," ringing through her ears; and she sat as in a maze. Jasper was nearly as bad.
And then everybody was pouring out of the cars and rushing for the hotel on the summit; all but Mr. King's party and a few others, who had their rooms engaged by telegraphing up. When they reached the big central hall there was a knot of Germans all talking together, and on the outside fringe of this knot, people were standing around and staring at the central figure. Suddenly some one darted away from this outer circle and dashed up to them. It was the lady from their hotel.
"I knew you'd want to know," she exclaimed breathlessly; "that's Herr Bauricke himself—he came up on our train—just think of it!—the big man in the middle with the black beard." She pointed an excited finger at the knot of Germans.
Old Mr. King followed the course of the finger, and saw his "impertinent fellow who wasn't worth minding."
Polly got Jasper away into a side corridor by a beseeching little pull on his sleeve. "Oh, just to think," she mourned, "I called that great man such unpleasant things—that he was big and fat, and—oh, oh!"
"Well, heisbig and fat," declared Jasper. "We can't say he isn't,Polly."
"But I meant it all against him," said Polly, shaking her head. "You know I did, Jasper," she added remorsefully.
"Yes, we neither of us liked him," said Jasper, "and that's the honest truth, Polly."
"And to think it was thatgreatHerr Bauricke!" exclaimed Polly. Then her feelings overcame her, and she sank down on the cushioned seat in the angle.
Jasper sat down beside her. "I suppose it won't do to say anything about people after this until we know them. Will it, Polly?"
"Jasper," declared Polly, clasping her hands, while the rosy colour flew over her cheek, "I'm never going to say a single—"
Just then the big form of Herr Bauricke loomed up before them, as he turned into the corridor.
Polly shrank up in her corner as small as she could, wishing she was as little as Phronsie, and could hop up and run away.
Herr Bauricke turned his sharp eyes on them for a moment, hesitated, then came directly up, and stopped in front of them. "I meant—I _in_tended to speak to your grandfader first. Dat not seem bestnow." The great man was really talking to them, and Polly held her breath, not daring to look into his face, but keeping her gaze on his wonderful fingers. "My child," those wonderful fingers seized her own, and clasped them tightly, "you have great promise, mind you, you know only a leedle now, and you must work—work—work." He brought it out so sharply, that the last word was fairly shrill. "But I tink you will," he added kindly, dropping his tone. Then he laid her fingers gently in her lap.
"Oh, she does, sir," exclaimed Jasper, finding his tongue first, forPolly was beyond speaking. "Polly works all the time she can."
"Dat is right." Herr Bauricke bobbed his head in approval, so that his spectacles almost fell off. "I hear dat, in de music she play. No leedle girl play like dat, who doesn't work. I will hear you sometime at de hotel," he added abruptly, "and tell you some tings dat will help you. To-morrow, maybe, when we go down from dis place, eh?"
"Oh, sir," exclaimed Polly, springing off from her cushion before Jasper could stop her. "You aresogood—but—but—I cannot," then her breath gave out, and she stood quite still.
"Eh?" exclaimed Herr Bauricke, and pushing up his spectacles to stare into her flushed and troubled face. "Perhaps I not make my meaning clear; I mean Igeefyou of my time and my best _ad_vice. Now you understand—eh?" He included Jasper in his puzzled glance.
"Yes, sir," Jasper made haste to say. "We do understand; and it is so very good of you, and Polly will accept it, sir." "For father will make it all right with him as to the payment," he reflected easily.
"Ah, now," exclaimed Herr Bauricke, joyfully, a light beaming all over his fat face, "dat is someting like—to-morrow, den, we—"
"But, oh, sir," Polly interrupted, "I cannot," and she twisted her hands in distress. "I—I—didn't like you, and I said so." Then she turned very pale, and her head drooped.
Jasper leaned over, and took her hand. "Neither did I, sir," he said."I was just as bad as Polly."
"You not tink me nice looking—so?" said Herr Bauricke. "Well, I not tink so myself, eeder. And I scare you maybe, wid dis," and he twisted his black beard with his long fingers. "Ah, so; well, we will forget all dis, leedle girl," and he bent down and took Polly's other fingers that hung by her side. "And eef you not let me come to-morrow to your leedle music room, and tell you sometings to help you learn better, I shall know dat you no like menow—eh?"
"Oh, sir," Polly lifted her face, flooded with rosy colour up to her brown hair, "if you only will forgive me?"
"I no forgeef; I not remember at all," said Herr Bauricke, waving his long fingers in the air. "And I go to-morrow to help you, leedle girl," and he strode down the corridor.
Polly and Jasper rushed off, they scarcely knew how, to Grandpapa, to tell him the wonderful news,—to find him in a truly dreadful state of mind. When they had told their story, he was as much worse as could well be imagined.
"Impossible, impossible!" was all he could say, but he brought his hand down on the table before him with so much force that Jasper felt a strange sinking of heart. What could be the matter?
"Why, children, and you all" (for his whole party was before him), exclaimed Mr. King, "Herr Bauricke is that impertinent person who annoyed me this morning, and I called him 'fellow' to his face!"
It was so very much worse than Jasper had dreamed, that he collapsed into the first chair, all Polly's prospects melting off like dew before the sun.
"Hum!" Little Dr. Fisher was the first to speak. He took off his big spectacles and wiped them; then put them on his nose and adjusted them carefully, and glared around the group, his gaze resting on old Mr. King's face.
Polly, who had never seen Jasper give way like this, forgot her own distress, and rushed up to him. "Oh, don't, Jasper," she begged.
"You see I can't allow Herr Bauricke to give any lessons or advice to Polly after this," went on Mr. King, hastily. "Of course he would be paid; but, under the circumstances, it wouldn't do, not in the least. It is quite out of the question," he went on, as if some one had been contradicting him. But no one said a word.
"Why don't some of you speak?" he asked, breaking the pause. "Dr. Fisher, you don't generally keep us waiting for your opinion. Speak out now, man, and let us have it."
"It is an awkward affair, surely," began the little doctor, slowly.
"Awkward? I should say so," frowned Mr. King; "it's awkward to the last degree. Here's a man who bumps into me in a hotel passage,—though, for that matter, I suppose it's really my fault as much as his,—and I offer to pick up his spectacles that were dropped in the encounter. And he tells me that he is glad that we ran up against each other, for it gives him a chance to tell me what is on his mind. As if I cared what was on his mind, or on the mind of any one else, for that matter," he declared, in extreme irritation. "And I told him to his face that he was an impertinent fellow, and to get out of my way. Yes, I did!"
A light began to break on little Dr. Fisher's face, that presently shone through his big spectacles, fairly beaming on them all. Then he burst into a laugh, hearty and long.
"Why, Adoniram!" exclaimed Mother Fisher, in surprise. Polly turned a distressed face at him; and to say that old Mr. King stared would be stating the case very mildly indeed.
"Can't you see, oh, can't you see," exploded the little doctor, mopping up his face with his big handkerchief, "that your big German was trying to tell you of Polly's playing, and to say something, probably pretty much the same that he has said to her and to Jasper? O dear me, I should like to have been there to see you both," ended Dr. Fisher, faintly. Then he went off into another laugh.
"I don't see much cause for amusement," said old Mr. King, grimly, when this idea broke into his mind, "for it's a certain fact that I called him a fellow, and told him to get out of the way."
"Well, he doesn't bear you any malice, apparently," said the little doctor, who, having been requested to speak, saw no reason for withholding any opinion he might chance to have, "for, if he did, he wouldn't have made that handsome offer to Polly."
"That may be; the offer is handsome enough," answered Mr. King, "that is the trouble, it's too handsome. I cannot possibly accept it under the awkward circumstances. No, children," he turned to Polly and Jasper, as if they had been beseeching him all the while, "you needn't ask it, or expect it," and he got out of his chair, and stalked from the room.
Jasper buried his face in his hands, and a deep gloom settled over the whole party, on all but little Dr. Fisher. He pranced over to Polly and Jasper just as merrily as if nothing dreadful had happened. "Don't you be afraid, my boy," he said; "your father is a dreadfully sensible man, and there's no manner of doubt but that he will fix this thing up."
"Oh, you don't know father," groaned Jasper, his head in his hands, "when he thinks the right thing hasn't been done or said. And now Polly will miss it all!" And his head sank lower yet.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Dr. Fisher. Yet he had a dreadful feeling coming over him, and he turned to Polly imploringly.
"Oh, I do believe it, Jasper," cried Polly, "what Papa-Doctor says. And just look at Mamsie!" she cried, beneath her breath.
And truly Mother Fisher was having a hard time to control herself. That Jasper could see as he lifted his head. And the little doctor also saw, and skipped back across the room to her side. And Phronsie, feeling plunged into the deepest woe by all this dreadful state of affairs, that had come too bewilderingly for her to rally to Grandpapa's side, first began to cry. And then, thinking better of it, went softly out of the door, and no one noticed her when she went—with the tears running down her cheeks.
Down the long corridor she hurried, not knowing which way Grandpapa went, but turning into the little reading room, she spied him sitting by the table. The apartment was otherwise empty. He wasn't reading, not even looking at a paper, but sitting bolt upright, and lost in thought.
"Grandpapa," she said, laying a soft little hand on his arm. "Oh, I'm so glad I found you." And she nestled up to his side.
"Eh? Oh, Phronsie, child." Old Mr. King put his arm around her, and drew her closely to him. "So you came after your old Grand-daddy, did you?"
"Yes, I did," said Phronsie, with a glad little cry, snuggling up tighter to him, while the tears trailed off down his waistcoat, but not before he had seen them.
"Now, Phronsie, you are not to cry any more," he said, with a pang at the sight. "You won't, dear; promise me that."
So Phronsie promised; and he held her hands, and, clearing his throat, he began, "Well, now I suppose they felt pretty badly, back there in the room, your mother and all—eh, Phronsie?"
"Yes, Grandpapa," said Phronsie, her round face falling. Yet she had promised not to cry, and, although she had a hard time of it, every tear was kept back valiantly.
"And Polly, now—" asked old Mr. King, cautiously, "and Jasper—how were they feeling?"
"Grandpapa," Phronsie did not trust herself to reply, but, springing up, she laid her rosy little mouth close to his ear. "What does it all—the dreadful thing mean?" she whispered.
"It means," old Mr. King whispered back, but very distinctly, "that your old Granddaddy is an idiot, Phronsie, and that he has been rude, and let his temper run away with him."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa dear," contradicted Phronsie, falling back from him in horror. "You couldn't ever be that what you say." And she flung both arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.
"What? An idiot? Yes, I have been an idiot of the worst kind," declared Mr. King, "and all the rest just as I say; rude and—why, what is the matter, Phronsie?" for the little arms clutched him so tightly he could hardly breathe.
"Oh, Grandpapa," she wailed, and drawing away a bit to look at him, he saw her face convulsed with the effort not to cry. "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. King set her abruptly on the floor, and took a few turns up and down the room. Phronsie's eyes followed him with a grieved expression. When she saw the distress on his face, she ran up to him and seized his hand, but didn't speak.
"You see, child,"—he grasped her fingers and held them closely,—"it's just this way: the gentleman wants to do me a favour; that is, to help Polly with her music."
"Does he?" cried Phronsie, and she laughed in delight. "Oh, Grandpapa, how nice! And Polly will be so happy."
"But I cannot possibly accept it," groaned old Mr. King; "don't you see, child, after treating him so? Why, how could I? The idea is too monstrous!" He set off now at such a brisk pace down the room that Phronsie had hard work to keep up with him. But he clung to her hand.
"Won't that make the gentleman sorry?" panted Phronsie, trotting along by his side.
"Eh—oh, what?" exclaimed old Mr. King, coming to a dead stop suddenly."What's that you say, Phronsie?"
"Won't the gentleman feel sorry?" repeated Phronsie, pushing back the waves of yellow hair that had fallen over her face, to look up at him. "And won't he feel badly then, Grandpapa?"
"Eh—oh, perhaps," assented Mr. King, slowly, and passing a troubled hand across his brow. "Well, now, Phronsie, you come and sit in my lap again, and we'll talk it over, and you tell me what I ought to do."
So the two got into the big chair again, and Phronsie folded her hands in her lap.
"Now begin," said old Mr. King.
"I should make the gentleman happy, Grandpapa," said Phronsie, decidedly.
"You would—no matter what you had to do to bring it about?" askedGrandpapa, with a keen pair of eyes on her face. "Eh? think now,Phronsie."
"I should make the gentleman happy," repeated Phronsie, and she bobbed her head decidedly. "I really should, Grandpapa."
"Then the best way is to have it over with as soon as possible," said old Mr. King; "so come on, child, and you can see that the business is done up in good shape." He gathered her little fingers up in his hand, and setting her once more on the floor, they passed out of the apartment.
The door of the private parlour belonging to Mr. King's rooms was flung wide open, and into the gloomy interior, for Mother Fisher and Jasper were still inconsolable, marched old Mr. King. He was arm in arm, so far as the two could at once compass the doorway, with Herr Bauricke; while Phronsie ducked and scuttled in as she could, for the big German, with ever so many honorary degrees to his name, held her hand fast.
Old Mr. King continued his march up to Mother Fisher. "Allow me to introduce Herr Bauricke, Professor and Doctor of Music, of world-wide distinction," he said, bowing his courtly old head.
And then Mother Fisher, self-controlled as she had always been, astonished him by turning to her husband to supply the answering word.
"Glad to see you!" exclaimed the little doctor, bubbling over with happiness, and wringing the long fingers extended. "My wife is overcome with delight," which the big German understood very well; and he smiled his knowledge of it, as he looked into her black eyes. "She is like to mein Frau," he thought, having no higher praise. And then he turned quickly to Polly and Jasper.