"What's a porpoise?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes.
"Oh, he's a dolphin or a grampus."
"Oh," said Phronsie, much mystified, "and does he go to school?"
"Well, they go ever so many of them together, and they call it a school. Goodness me—that is a blow!" as the whale spouted valiantly, and looked as if he were making directly for the steamer.
"Oh, Grandpapa, he's coming right here!" screamed Phronsie, clapping her hands in delight, and hopping up and down,—Polly and Jasper were almost as much excited,—while the passengers ran hither and thither to get a good view, and levelled their big glasses, and oh-ed and ah-ed. And some of them ran to get their cameras. And Mr. Whale seemed to like it, for he spouted and flirted his long tail and dashed into the water and out again to blow, till they were all quite worn out looking at him. At last, with a final plunge, he bade them all good-by and disappeared.
Phronsie, after her first scream of delight, had pressed her face close to the rail and held her breath. She did not say a word, but gazed in speechless enjoyment at the antics of the big fish. And Grandpapa had to speak two or three times when the show was all over before she heard him.
"Did you like it, Phronsie?" he asked, gathering her hand up closely in his, as he leaned over to see her face.
Phronsie turned away with a sigh. "Oh, Grandpapa, he was so beautiful!" She drew a long breath, then turned back longingly. "Won't he ever come back?" she asked.
"Maybe not this one," said old Mr. King; "but we'll see plenty more, I imagine, Phronsie. At least, if not on this voyage,—why, some other time."
"Oh, wasn't it splendid!" exclaimed Polly, tossing back the little rings of brown hair from her brow. "Well, he's gone; now we must run back, Jasper, and finish our game." And they were off, the other players following.