"It's worth getting up to see." He flung down his novel
and tumbled out of his steamer chair. "Look down there!"
"_Whew!_" whistled Mr. Griswold; "that _is_ a sight!"
"And that is the great Horatio King!" exclaimed Mrs. Griswold under her
breath; "down there in that dirty steerage--and look at that child
--Reginald, did you ever see such a sight in your life?"
"On my honour, I never have," declared Mr. Griswold, solemnly, and
wanting to whistle again.
"Sh!--don't speak so loud," warned Mrs. Griswold, who was doing most of
the talking herself. And plucking his sleeve, she emphasised every word
with fearful distinctness close to his ear. "She's got a dirty steerage
baby in her lap, and Mr. King is laughing. Well, I never! O dear me,
here come the young people!"
Polly and Jasper came on a brisk trot up the deck length. "Fifteen
times around make a mile, don't they, Jasper?" she cried.
"I believe they do," said Jasper, "but it isn't like home miles, is it,
Polly?"--laughing gaily--"or dear old Badgertown?"
"I should think not," replied Polly, with a little pang at her heart
whenever Badgertown was mentioned. "We used to run around the little
brown house, and see how many times we could do it without stopping."
"And how many did you, Polly?" asked Jasper,--"the largest number, I
mean."
"Oh, I don't know," said Polly, with a little laugh; "Joel beat us
always, I remember that.
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