“Oh Jasper, I can't,” cried Polly, wrinkling her brows.
“Oh, yes, Polly, you can,” cried Jasper; “if it's one half as good as 'The Three Dragons and the Princess Clotilde,' it will be just fine.”
“Well,” said Polly, “I'll try; and what then, Jasper?”
“Why, we'll give it for money—father, may we, in the drawing-room? And perhaps we'll make quite a heap to help those boys with. Oh Polly!” He seized both of her hands and wrung them tightly. “Oh, may we, father, may we?”
“Eh—what's that? Oh, yes.” The old gentleman took down his handkerchief. “Dear me! what a mercy we are where we can breathe!” as Thomas whirled them dexterously past a small square. “What are the health authorities about, to allow such atrocious old holes? Oh, yes, my boy, I'm sure I'd be delighted to have you help along those three lads. And it's really work for boys. Polly's going to start up something for the girl.”
“How perfectly fine!” exclaimed Jasper and Polly together, now that the consent was really gained. Then they fell into such a merry chatter that Pickering, left out in the cold, began to wriggle dreadfully. At last he broke out:
“Yes, I think it would be fine too,” trying to work his head into the conference, where Polly and Jasper had theirs together buzzing over the plans.
But nobody paid him the slightest attention; so he repeated his remark, with no better success.
“I should think you might turn around,” at last he said in a dudgeon, “and speak to a body once in a while.”
“Why should we?” cried Jasper over his shoulder. “You don't think it's worth while to work for any of those people. No, Polly, we'll let him severely alone.” Then he fell to talking again, busier than ever.