"Like it, Grandpapa!" repeated Polly, standing quite still. "Oh, it's just too beautiful!" and she clasped her hands tightly together.
"Well, I think we'd best get to work," said Jasper, bursting into a laugh.
"Come on, Polly, let's set about it."
"I think so, too," said Polly, coming out of her rapture. Thereupon ensued such a busy time!—especially as old Turner and two of his under-gardeners came up for directions, and Mr. King went off with them. So for the next hour Polly seemed to be on wings, here, there, and everywhere, and breathing only the sweet fragrance of the flowers.
"How Phronsie would enjoy it—the fixing and all!" she mourned, in the midst of it, as the transforming of the flower-tables into veritable bowers of beauty went on.
"But you know she had to take a long nap, else she would be all tired out.
And the afternoon is going to be a long one, Polly."
"Oh, I know," said Polly, flying on with her work faster than ever, "and
Mamsie was right to make her go to sleep."
"Mrs. Fisher is always right," said Jasper decidedly, "ever and always."
"Isn't she!" cried Polly, in a glow. "Well, Jasper, do you think that smilax ought to be trained up there?" She twisted her head to view the effect, and looked up at him anxiously.
"Yes—no," said Jasper critically; "I don't believe I'd put it there. It looks too much, Polly; there are so many vines about."
"So it does," said Polly, in great relief. "Heigh-ho! when one is working over any thing it looks so different, doesn't it?"