"Yes, I am very glad," began the big man again, who hadn't even heard Mr. King's tirade, "for now—" and he gave his black beard a final twitch, and his eyes suddenly lightened with a smile that ran all over his face, "I can speak to you of dis ting dat is in my mind. Your—"
"I want to hear nothing of what is on your mind," declared old Mr. King, now thoroughly angry. "Stand aside, fellow, and let me pass," he commanded, in a towering passion.
The big man stared in astonishment into the angry face, the smile dropping out of his own. "I beg to _ex_cuse myself," he said, with a deep bow, and a wave of his long fingers. "Will you pass?" and he moved up as tightly as possible to the wall.
Old Mr. King went into the little music room in a furious rage, and half an hour afterward Polly and Jasper, pausing to look around, saw him tossing and tumbling his letters and newspapers about on the table, fuming to himself all the while.
"Father has had bad news!" exclaimed Jasper, turning pale; "something about his agents, probably."
"O dear me! and here we have been playing," cried Polly in remorse, every vestige of colour flying from her cheek.
"Well, we didn't know," said Jasper, quickly. "But what can we do now,
Polly?" he turned to her appealingly.
"I don't know," she was just going to say helplessly, but Jasper's face made her see that something must be done. "Let's go and tell him we are sorry," she said; "that's what Mamsie always liked best if she felt badly."
So the two crept up behind old Mr. King's chair: "Father, I'm so sorry," and "Dear Grandpapa, I'm so sorry," and Polly put both arms around his neck suddenly.
"Eh—what?" cried Mr. King, sitting bolt upright in astonishment. "Oh, bless me, children, I thought you were playing on the piano."