"Oh, I don't want to, I really and truly don't, Jasper," Polly made
haste to cry. "I like the sand ever and ever so much better. I only
want to see for a minute what it's like to be in one of those funny old
things. Then I should want to hop out with all my might, I just know I
should."
"I'm of your mind," said Jasper, coming back to his seat on the sand
again. "They must be very stuffy, Polly. Well, now you are here, would
you like to come back to Scheveningen for a few days, Polly?"
"I think I should," said Polly, slowly, bringing her gaze around over
the sea, to the Dunes, the beach, with the crowds of people of all
nationalities, and the peasant folk, "if we could stay just as long,
for all that, at the dear old Hague."
And just then old Mr. King was saying to Phronsie, "We will come out
here again, child, and stay a week. Yes," he said to himself, "I will
engage the rooms before we go back this afternoon."
"Grandpapa," asked Phronsie, laying her hand on his knee, "can I have
this very same little house next time we come?"
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. King, peering up and down Phronsie's
Bath chair adorned with the most lively descriptions of the merits of
cocoa as a food; "they're all alike as two peas, except for the matter
of the chocolate and cocoa trimmings. But perhaps I can fix it,
Phronsie, so that you can have this identical one," mentally resolving
to do that very thing.
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