Part 25 (1/2)

Old Mr. King made no comment, only pa.s.sed on with a few little leading remarks when the information seemed to be on the wane. And then he said he thought he would like a game of backgammon, and he challenged the parson to come on and be beaten. And at an early hour the party broke up. ”For remember,” said Grandpapa, for about the fiftieth time that day, ”it's Antwerp to-morrow!”

So it was at Antwerp that the whole splendid business was concluded.

And when the story of it came out, there was a regular jubilee all around. For were not Adela and Adela's grandmother going with the King party around a bit more on the continent, and then off to Paris again, and back to the beloved school--Grandpapa's gift to the girl with the talent, to keep it alive!

And the little widow, stunned at first by the magnitude of the gift, could do nothing but feebly protest, ”Oh, no, sir!” and put up both shaking hands to ward off the benefaction.

”It's your duty, Madam,” said Mr. King, sternly, at which she shrank down farther in her chair. ”Who knows what such talent will do in the world? and it's my duty to see that it is kept alive,--nothing more nor less than a question of duty.”

He stamped up and down the room vehemently, and the little old lady protesting that she wanted to do her duty,--she was sure she always did,--the hardest part was over, and old Mr. King chuckled to himself triumphantly.

”And now,” cried Polly, in a transport, when the first surprise was over, and everybody had settled down to the quiet enjoyment of it all, ”we've really and truly got a celebrated artist all to ourselves,” and she drew herself up in pride.

”I'm not celebrated yet,” said Adela, with two little red spots on her cheeks, and with happy eyes on her grandmother. ”You had better wait till I am.”

”Oh, well; you will be,” said Polly, confidently, ”sometime, and then we can say 'yes, we knew her when she was a girl,' and we'll go to picture-galleries the same as we do here, and see your name stuck up in the corners of the very best ones, Adela.”

XVI

”LET US FLY AT THOSE BOOKS”

”Now, Polly, in Antwerp,” said Jasper, ”we can see Rubens to perfection. Won't we just revel in his paintings, though!”

”Won't we!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Polly. ”I'm so glad Grandpapa came here to this hotel.” She leaned out of the window as she spoke.

”Under the very eaves of the Cathedral, almost, isn't it?” said Jasper, in satisfaction.

The chimes just then pealed out. Indeed, it seemed as if they did nothing but ring, so short were the intervals. But to Polly and Jasper they brought only echoes of delight.

”There are forty of those bells, aren't there?” asked Polly, resting her elbows on the window-sill.

”I believe so,” answered Jasper, absently. Polly looked at him curiously.

”Polly,” he said abruptly, ”do you know what I mean to do?”

”No,” said Polly; ”tell me, do, Jasper.”

”Well, I mean to sit right down and finish my book. I'm ashamed to confess that it's not up to date.”

”Neither is mine,” confessed Polly.

”Well, now, that won't do,” said Jasper, decidedly. ”You see if we once let those books get behindhand, we're lost. We never can catch up, in all this world.”

”We've had so much to do and to see,” began Polly.

”That won't be any excuse that will amount to anything,” said Jasper, shaking his head. ”Let's fly at them and tackle them now, Polly.”

”I say so, too,” she cried, and deserting the window, they surrounded the centre-table, and soon had the big journals, photographs, and pictures, of every sort and size, the ink bottle, and library paste, scissors, and all the rest of the paraphernalia, spread out on it.

”It's good that Grandpapa is lying down and doesn't wish to go out,”