“He's just lovely,” cried Polly, “oh! I wish you knew him.”
“If father's sick again,” said Jasper, “we'll have him—he looks nice, anyway—for father don't like the doctor over in Hingham—do you know perhaps we'll come again next summer; wouldn't that be nice!”
“Oh!” cried the children rapturously; “do come, Jasper, do!”
“Well, maybe,” said Jasper, “if father likes it and sister Marian and her family will come with us; they do some summers. You'd like little Dick, I know,” turning to Phronsie. “And I guess all of you'd like all of them,” he added, looking at the group of interested listeners. “They wanted to come this year awfully; they said—'Oh grandpapa, do let us go with you and Jappy, and—”
“What!” said the children.
“Oh,” said Jasper with a laugh, “they call me Jappy—its easier to say than Jasper; ever so many people do for short. You may if you want to,” he said looking around on them all.
“How funny!” laughed Polly, “But I don't know as it is any worse than Polly or Ben.”
“Or Phronsie,” said Jappy. “Don't you like Jappy?” he said, bringing his head down to her level, as she sat on the little stool at his feet, content in listening to the merry chat.
“Is that the same as Jasper?” she asked gravely.
“Yes, the very same,” he said.