"
"I'm not in the least troubled in regard to the luggage, Jasper,"
replied his father, testily; "it's something much more important than
the luggage question about which I wish to speak to you."
Jasper stared, well knowing his father's views in regard to the luggage
question. "The first thing that you must unpack--the very first," old
Mr. King was saying, "is your music. Don't wait a minute, Jasper, but
go and get it. And then call Polly, and--"
"Why, father," exclaimed Jasper, "there isn't a single place to play
in. You don't know how people stare if we touch the piano. We can't
here, father; there's such a crowd in this hotel."
"You do just as I say, Jasper," commanded his father. "And tell Polly
to get her music; and then do you two go to the little room out of the
big parlour, and play to your hearts' content." And he burst into a
hearty laugh at Jasper's face, as he dangled a key at the end of a
string, before him.
"Now I do believe, father, that you've got Polly a piano and a little
room to play in," cried Jasper, joyfully, and pouncing on the key.
"You go along and do as I tell you," said Mr. King, mightily pleased at
the success of his little plan. "And don't you tell Polly Pepper one
word until she has taken her music down in the little room," as Jasper
bounded off on the wings of the wind.
And in that very hotel was the big fat man with the dreadful black
beard, resting after a long season of hard work.
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