Part 33 (1/2)

”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 b.u.mps into me in a hotel pa.s.sage,--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 amus.e.m.e.nt,” 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 circ.u.mstances. 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.