Polly and Jasper came on a brisk trot up the deck length. "Fifteen times around make a mile, don't they, Jasper?" she cried.
"I believe they do," said Jasper, "but it isn't like home miles, is it,
Polly?"—laughing gaily—"or dear old Badgertown?"
"I should think not," replied Polly, with a little pang at her heart whenever Badgertown was mentioned. "We used to run around the little brown house, and see how many times we could do it without stopping."
"And how many did you, Polly?" asked Jasper,—"the largest number, I mean."
"Oh, I don't know," said Polly, with a little laugh; "Joel beat us always, I remember that."
"Yes, Joe would get over the ground, you may be sure," said Jasper, "if anybody could."
Polly's laugh suddenly died away and her face fell. "Jasper, you don't know," she said, "how I do want to see those boys."
"I know," said Jasper, sympathisingly, "but you'll get a letter, you know, most as soon as we reach port, for they were going to mail it before we left."
"And I have one every day in my mail-bag," said Polly, "but I want to see them so, Jasper, I don't know what to do." She went up to the rail at a remove from the Griswolds and leaned over it.
"Polly," said Jasper, taking her hand, "you know your mother will feel dreadfully if she knows you are worrying about it."