She was lost in the entrancing world
of mystery and legend borne upward by the grand music, and she scarcely
moved.
"Well, Polly." Old Mr. King was smiling at her and holding out his
hand. The curtains had closed for the intermission, and all the people
were getting out of their chairs. Polly sat still and drew a long
breath. "Oh, Grandpapa, must we go?"
"Yes, indeed, I hope so," answered Mr. King, with a little laugh. "We
shall have none too much time for our supper, Polly, as it is."
Polly got out of her seat, very much wishing that supper was not one of
the needful things of life.
"It almost seems wicked to think of eating, Jasper," she said, as they
picked up their hats and capes, where he had tucked them under the
seats.
"It would be more wicked not to eat," said Jasper, with a little laugh,
"and I think you'll find some supper tastes good, when we get fairly at
it, Polly."
"I suppose so," said Polly, feeling dreadfully stiff in her feet, and
beginning to wish she could have a good run.
"And what we should do with you if we didn't stop for supper," observed
Jasper, snapping the case to the opera-glasses, "I'm sure I don't know,
Polly. I spoke to you three times, and you didn't hear me once."
"Oh, Jasper!" exclaimed Polly, in horror, pausing as she was pinning on
her big, flowered hat, with the roses all around the brim; "O dear me,
there it goes!" as the hat spun over into the next row.
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