"Under the very eaves of the Cathedral, almost, isn't it?" said Jasper,
in satisfaction.
The chimes just then pealed out. Indeed, it seemed as if they did
nothing but ring, so short were the intervals. But to Polly and Jasper
they brought only echoes of delight.
"There are forty of those bells, aren't there?" asked Polly, resting
her elbows on the window-sill.
"I believe so," answered Jasper, absently. Polly looked at him
curiously.
"Polly," he said abruptly, "do you know what I mean to do?"
"No," said Polly; "tell me, do, Jasper."
"Well, I mean to sit right down and finish my book. I'm ashamed to
confess that it's not up to date."
"Neither is mine," confessed Polly.
"Well, now, that won't do," said Jasper, decidedly. "You see if we once
let those books get behindhand, we're lost. We never can catch up, in
all this world."
"We've had so much to do and to see," began Polly.
"That won't be any excuse that will amount to anything," said Jasper,
shaking his head. "Let's fly at them and tackle them now, Polly."
"I say so, too," she cried, and deserting the window, they surrounded
the centre-table, and soon had the big journals, photographs, and
pictures, of every sort and size, the ink bottle, and library paste,
scissors, and all the rest of the paraphernalia, spread out on it.
"It's good that Grandpapa is lying down and doesn't wish to go out,"
remarked Polly, snipping away at a fearful rate, and pausing only to
write down the dates and other bits of information around each picture,
as she pasted it in.
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