"You are not eating anything, child," said Grandpapa, presently, with a keen glance at her. "Let me order something more."
"Oh, no, Grandpapa," and "yes, I will," she cried, incoherently, making a great effort to enjoy the nice things he piled on her plate.
Jasper followed her glance as it rested on the Vanderburgh table. "They will spoil everything," he thought. "And to think it should happen at Bayreuth."
"Yes, we are going," said Fanny Vanderburgh as they met after dinner in the corridor. Her eyes were swollen, and she twisted her handkerchief in her fingers. "And I did—did—did—" here she broke down and sobbed—"so want to hear the Wagner operas."
"Don't cry," begged Polly, quite shocked. "Oh, Fanny, why can't you stay? How very dreadful to lose the Wagner music!" Polly could think of no worse calamity that could befall one.
"Mamma doesn't know anybody here except your party," mumbled Fanny, "and she's upset, and declares that we must go back to Paris to-morrow. Oh, Polly Pepper, I hate Paris," she exploded. And then sobbed worse than ever.
"Wait here," said Polly, "till I come back." Then she ran on light feet to Grandpapa, just settling behind a newspaper in a corner of the general reading room.
"Grandpapa, dear, may I speak to you a minute?" asked Polly, with a woful feeling at her heart. It seemed as if he must hear it beating.
"Why, yes, child, to be sure," said Mr. King, quite surprised at her manner. "What is it?" and he laid aside his paper and smiled reassuringly.
But Polly's heart sank worse than ever. "Grandpapa," she began desperately, "Fanny Vanderburgh is feeling dreadfully."