Polly never knew that Mamsie, with a happy look in her black eyes, was regarding her intently, too, nor that many a glance was given to the young girl whose colour came and went in her cheek, nor that Jasper sometimes spoke a low word or two. 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.
"I'll get it," cried Tom Selwyn, vaulting over the tops of the seats before Jasper had a chance to try for it.