"Never mind; it'll be just as good fun again," said Polly.
"And not a bit of work—oh, no!"
"Don't throw cold water on it," begged Polly under her breath, while the baby scrambled all over her, "don't, Jasper; Phronsie has set her heart on it."
"All right; but I thought you wanted every bit of time to get ready for your Recital, and the other things; and then, besides, there's Phronsie's performance down at Dunraven."
"Well, so I did," confessed Polly, with a sigh, "but I can get the time some way."
"Out of 'the other things,'" said Jasper grimly. "Polly, you'll have no fun from the holidays. It isn't too late to stop this now." He darted over toward his father.
"Jasper!" cried Polly imploringly.
"What is it, my boy?" asked Mr. King, quite deep in the plans for the
Tree, Joel having added himself to their company.
"Oh, nothing; Polly wants it, and we must make it a good one," said
Jasper, rather incoherently, and beginning to retreat.
"Of course it will be a good one," said his father, a trifle testily, "if we have it at all. When did we ever get up a poor Tree, pray tell?"