Part 34 (1/2)
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 compa.s.s 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.
XXI
ON THE RIGI-KULM
For all that grand old Rigi's summit claimed them, it was some time before Mr. King's party left the little parlour. Herr Bauricke surely didn't want to until he had gotten it settled just what he did mean about Polly's music. That she showed great promise, that some faults in the way she had been taught were there, but it was by no means too late to mend them, that she had spirit and expression and love for the art.
”Ah, dat is eet, after all.” Herr Bauricke clasped his long fingers and beamed at her, and then swept the entire party. ”Lofe, ah, how one must lofe eet! Eef not, shame, shame!” His countenance darkened frightfully, and he fairly glared at them, as he unclasped his hands and swung one over his head, while his black beard vibrated with each word.
”Goodness me!” exclaimed Tom Selwyn, ”it takes a musical man to sling around. I say, Jasper, I'd like to do a bit of boxing or cricketing with him.” But Jasper didn't hear or see anything but Herr Bauricke and Polly; and, indeed, the whole room was given up to the ”musical man”
and his words.
At last Polly drew a long breath; Grandpapa was taking her hand. ”Let us all go out and explore a bit,” and off they went, the entire party.
And the ”musical man,” as Tom still continued to call him in private, proved to be as expert in the use of his feet as his fingers, for he led them here, there, and everywhere that promised the least chance of a good view.
But Polly saw only the glorious future when, on the morrow, Herr Bauricke would really show her on the piano how best to study and to work! And the rosy glow of sunset wasn't one-half as bright as all her dreams.
”Polly,” said Phronsie, pulling her hand gently, as she peered up into her face, ”are you looking at it?”
”What, Pet? Oh, yes,” said Polly, starting out of her revery with a little laugh, ”you mean the sunset?”
”Yes,” said Phronsie, ”I do mean that. Are you looking at it, Polly?
Because if you are not looking, I wish you would, Polly.”
”Well, I suppose I am looking at it, Phronsie,” said Polly, with another little laugh, ”but perhaps not in just the right way, for you see, Phronsie, I can't seem to see anything but just the splendid thing that is coming to-morrow. Oh, Phronsie Pepper, just think of that.”
”I know,” said Phronsie, with a little gurgle of delight at Polly's happiness, ”and I am so glad, Polly.”
”Of course you are,” declared Polly, warmly, ”just as glad as can be, Phronsie,” and she threw her arm around her. ”And now I'm going to look at the sunset in the right way, I hope. Isn't it beautiful, child?”
”Polly,” declared Phronsie, suddenly wriggling away from Polly's arm, to stand in front of her with a beaming face, ”I think it's just as beautiful as it can be up top here. I can see right in between that red cloud and that little pink teenty one. And I wish I could just go in, Polly.”
”Wouldn't it be nice?” echoed Polly, enthusiastically.
”What?” asked Adela, hurrying up from a point of rocks below, where she had been sketching.
”Oh, to go in between those clouds there and see it all,” said Polly.
”Dear me!” exclaimed Adela, ”I shouldn't like it. I'd much rather stay down here, and sketch it.”
”We could go sailing off, oh, ever so far,” said Polly, swinging her arms to suit the action to the words. ”And you'd be stuck to your rock here, Adela; while, Phronsie, you and I would sit on the edge of a cloud, and let our feet hang over; and oh, Adela, you could sketch us then as we went sailing by.”