"Yes, indeed; that is, in the whale's case," answered Polly, as they
ran up to Grandpapa and the rest of their party, and the knots of other
passengers, all staring hard at a certain point on the sparkling waste
of water.
"I thought you were never coming," said old Mr. King, moving away from
the rail to tuck Polly and Phronsie in where they could get a good
view. "Oh, there he is--there he is--Jasper, look!" cried Polly.
"There he is!" crowed Phronsie, now much excited. "Oh, isn't he big,
Grandpapa?"
"I should say he was," declared Mr. King. "I think I never saw a finer
whale in my life, Phronsie."
"He comes up to blow," said Phronsie, softly to herself, her face
pressed close to the rail, and her yellow hair floating off in the
breeze; "and Polly says it doesn't hurt him, and he likes it."
"What is it, Phronsie child?" asked old Mr. King, hearing her voice.
"Grandpapa, has he got any little whales?" asked Phronsie, suddenly
raising her face.
"Oh, yes, I imagine so," said old Mr. King; "that is, he ought to have,
I'm sure. Porpoises go in schools,--why shouldn't whales, pray tell?"
"What's a porpoise?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes.
"Oh, he's a dolphin or a grampus."
"Oh," said Phronsie, much mystified, "and does he go to school?"
"Well, they go ever so many of them together, and they call it a
school. Goodness me--that _is_ a blow!" as the whale spouted
valiantly, and looked as if he were making directly for the steamer.
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