"Polly is going with me and Phronsie," said Mr. King. "Hop in, Adela,
child, and one of you boys."
Tom ducked off the veranda, while Adela, not daring to say another
syllable, slowly withdrew her arm from Polly's and mounted the carriage
step, with a miserable face.
"Come on, one of you boys," cried Mr. King, impatiently. "We should
have started a quarter of an hour ago--I don't care which one, only
hurry."
"I can't!" declared Tom, flatly, grinding his heel into the pebbles,
and looking into Jasper's face.
"Very well,"--Jasper drew a long breath,--"I must, then." And without
more ado, he got into the first carriage and they rattled off to wait
outside the big gate till the procession was ready to start.
Old Mrs. Gray, the parson's wife and the parson, and little Dr. Fisher
made the next load, and then Grandpapa, perfectly delighted that he had
arranged it all so nicely, with Polly and Phronsie, climbed into the
third and last carriage, while Tom swung himself up as a fourth.
"They say it is a difficult thing to arrange carriage parties with
success," observed Mr. King. "I don't find it so in the least," he
added, complacently, just on the point of telling the driver to give
the horses their heads. "But that is because I've such a fine party on
my hands, where each one is willing to oblige, and--"
"Ugh!" exclaimed Tom Selwyn, with a snort that made the old gentleman
start.
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