Part 27 (1/2)

”Polly Pepper, from her grateful friend, Arthur Selwyn.”

--until the middle of the night, when Jasper was awakened by a noise as if some one were prowling around in his father's room. He started up and listened.

”It's I,” said old Mr. King's voice. So Jasper threw on his wrapper, and hurried in. There sat his father, in dressing-gown and slippers, by the table, with the little enamelled watch in his hand.

”Of all the idiots, Jasper,” he exclaimed, ”your father is the very worst. I've only just this moment thought to look in here.” He flashed the little watch around in Jasper's face; it was now opened at the back.

”Dear me!” cried Jasper, for want of anything better to say, as he read the inscription. Then he looked helplessly at his father.

”Earl or no earl, this piece of foolishness goes back,” fumed old Mr.

King, getting out of his chair, and beginning to march back and forth across the floor as he always did when irritated. ”Yes, sir, the very first thing in the morning,” he repeated, as vehemently as if Jasper had contradicted him.

”But, father--” began the boy.

”Yes, sir, it goes back, I tell you,” repeated his father, now well wrought up to a pa.s.sion. ”What right has he to send such a piece of foolishness to my Polly Pepper? I can give her all the watches she needs. And this trumpery,” pointing to the jewelled gift still lying in Jasper's hand, ”is utterly unfit for a schoolgirl. You know that yourself, Jasper.”

”But Polly was kind to him,” began Jasper, again.

”Kind to him!” snorted his father, ”don't I know that? Of course she was. Polly Pepper would be kind to any one. But that's no reason why the old idiot should presume to give her such a silly and expensive present as that. The man doesn't know anything who would do such a thing. And this one is queerer than the average.”

”As you say, he is eccentric,” observed Jasper, seeing here a loophole by which to get in a soothing word.

”Eccentric? That's a mild way to put it,” fumed his father. ”He's odder than d.i.c.k's hatband. Heaven save Old England if many of her earls are like him. Well, I shall just write the fellow a decent sort of a note, and then I'll pack the box off to him, and that'll be the end of the matter.”

”I'm afraid Polly will be sorry,” said Jasper, feeling at a standstill so far as finding the right word was concerned, for everything he uttered only seemed to make matters worse. So he said the best thing he could think of, and stopped short.

”Sorry?” Old Mr. King came to a dead stop and glared at him. ”You can't mean that Polly Pepper would like me to keep that watch. It's the last thing on earth that she would want, such a gewgaw as that. Why, the child hates the sight of it already as much as I do.”

”I don't think Polly would want the watch,” said Jasper, quickly. ”I know she doesn't like it, and I'm sure I wish I could smash it myself,”

he added in a burst.

”That's the most sensible thing you've said yet, Jasper,” said his father, with a grim smile.

”But she would feel dreadfully for you to send it back, for don't you see, father, that would hurt his feelings? And Polly would worry awfully to have that happen.”

Old Mr. King turned uneasily, took a few steps, then came back to throw himself into his chair again.

”And this old gentleman has such ill attacks,” said Jasper, pursuing his advantage, ”that it might be the very thing to bring one on if he should get that watch back.”

”Say no more, say no more, Jasper,” said his father, shortly; ”put this thing up for tonight, and then get back to bed again.” And Jasper knew that was the end of it.

And the next day Polly wrote a nice little note, thanking the old earl for his gift, and hoping that he was quite well; and with so many other pleasant things in it, that if she could have seen him when he received it, she would have been glad indeed. And then she handed the little red leather case to Mr. King. ”Keep it for me, Grandpapa,” she said simply.

”All right, Polly, my child,” he said. And then everybody forgot all about the episode and proceeded to enjoy Heidelberg.

”I'm so sorry for people who are not going to Bayreuth, Adela!”

exclaimed Polly, looking out of the compartment window, as the train steamed rapidly on from Nuremberg where they had pa.s.sed several days of delight revelling in the old town.

Adela, with her mind more on those past delights, had less attention for thoughts of music, so she answered absently, ”Yes. Oh, Polly, wasn't that Pentagonal Tower fine? What is it they call it in German?”