And everybody else who was present on the eventful occasion, said so too! And it seemed as if Mr. King's spacious drawing-room, famous for its capacity at all such times, couldn't possibly have admitted another person to this entertainment for the benefit of the poor brakeman's family.
And Joel, who wasn't good at recitations, and who detested all that sort of thing, and Van, for the same reason, were both in their element as ticket takers. And the little pink and yellow squares came in so thick and fast that both boys had all they could do for a while—which was saying a good deal—to collect them.
And everybody said that Miss Mary Taylor had never played such a beautiful overture—and she was capable of a good deal along that line—in all her life; and Phronsie, sitting well to the front, between old Mr. King and Helen Fargo, forgot that she ever had a hurt arm, and that it lay bandaged up in her lap.
And little Dick, when he could lose sight of the fact that he wasn't next to Phronsie instead of Helen Fargo, snuggled up contentedly against Mother Fisher, and applauded everything straight through.
And old Mr. King protested that he was perfectly satisfied with the whole thing, which was saying the most that could be expressed for the quality of the entertainment; and he took particular pains to applaud Tom Beresford, who looked very handsome, and acquitted himself well.
“I must,” said Tom to himself, although quaking inwardly, “for they've all been so good to me—and for Joel's sake!” So he sang at his very best. And he played his banjo merrily, and he was encored and encored; and Joel was as proud as could be, which did Tom good to see.
And Percy—well, the tears of joy came into his mother's eyes, for it wasn't easy for him to learn pieces, nor in fact to apply himself to study at all. But no one would have suspected it to see him now on that stage. And Grandpapa King was so overjoyed that he called “Bravo—bravo!” ever so many times, which carried Percy on triumphantly over the difficult spots where he had been afraid he should slip.
“If only his father could hear him!” sighed Mrs. Whitney in the midst of her joy, longing as she always did for the time when the father could finish those trips over the sea, for his business house.
Polly had made Jasper consent, which he did reluctantly, to give his recitation before she played; insisting that music was really better for a finale. And she listened with such delight to the applause that he received—for ever so many of the audience said it was the gem of the whole—that she quite forgot to be nervous about her own performance; and she played her nocturne with such a happy heart, thinking over the lovely evening, and how the money would be, oh, such a heap to take down on the morrow to the poor brakeman's home, that Jasper was turning the last page of her music—and the entertainment was at an end!
Polly hopped off from the music stool. There was a great clapping all over the room, and Grandpapa called out, “Yes, child, play again,” so there was nothing for Polly to do but to hop back again and give them another selection. And then they clapped harder yet; but Polly shook her brown head, and rushed off the stage.