"I declare, Polly," he said, leaning back in a comfortable way against the old cushion, and allowing the neighbor's horse, hired for the occasion, to amble along in its own fashion, "now we are so cosy, I believe I'll tell you a secret."
Polly stopped laughing and gazed at him.
"How would you like to take a little journey, just you and I, to-morrow?" he asked, looking down into her face.
"A journey, Grandpapa?" asked Polly wonderingly.
"Yes; about as far as—-say, well, to the place where Jasper has been all winter. The fact is, Polly," went on Mr. King very rapidly, as if with the fear that if he stopped he would not be able to finish at all, "I want you to look over the ground—Jasper's work, I mean. It seems an abominable place to me—a perfectly abominable one," confided the old gentleman in a burst of feeling, "but there," pulling himself up, "maybe I'm not the one to say it. You see, Polly, I never did a stroke of work in my life, and I really can't tell how working-places ought to look. And I suppose a working man like Mr. Marlowe might be different from me, and yet be a decent sort of a person, after all. Well, will you go?" he asked abruptly.
"O, Grandpapa!" cried Polly, aghast, and turning in the chaise to look at him with wide eyes.
"Yes, I really mean it," nodded old Mr. King, in his most decided fashion, "although I don't blame you for thinking me funny, child."
"I was only thinking how good you are Grandpapa!" exclaimed Polly fervently, and creeping up close to his side.
"There—there, Polly, child," said the old gentleman, "no more of that, else we shall have a scene, and that's what I never did like, dear, you know. Well, will you go with me—you haven't said yes yet."
"Oh! yes, yes, yes," cried Polly, in a rapturous shout, not taking her glowing eyes off from his face.