Tom Selwyn poked his
head forward to hear, but, as it was something quite beyond his powers
to help, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and kicked aimlessly on
the floor.
"Well, come on, Polly," said Jasper, wishing he could lift the gloom
from Polly's face, and feeling quite dismal himself.
Little Dr. Fisher, muffled up in a big plaid shawl so that only his
spectacles gleamed in between the folds and his cap, suddenly edged up
back of Polly, and dropped the folds away from his ears so that he
could hear what was going on. And when the group hurried out of the
door, into the cold gray dawn, he was skipping down to his wife's room,
in the liveliest way imaginable.
Old Mr. King had gone on ahead with the parson, as he couldn't scramble
so fast. And now he met them with, "Well, are you all here--where's
Phronsie?"
"Oh, Jasper, I can't tell him," gasped Polly, up on the tiptop bunch of
rocks, and trying to be glad of the promise of the beautiful sunrise to
come, for everybody agreed that it was apparently to be the best one
that had gladdened the hearts of travellers for years. Then she whirled
around and stared with all her might, "If there isn't Mamsie coming!"
"As true as you live it is!" cried Jasper, with a good look, and
springing down the rocks to help her up. Tom Selwyn plunged after him,
getting there first. So in the bustle, nobody answered Mr.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233