"Oh, Grandpapa, don't!" begged Polly, with a shiver; "I want to forget them."
"If you would only follow them up with more," said Mr. King meditatively; "when it comes to tears, she must march, you know."
"I won't cry," said Polly, swallowing the lump in her throat, "if you will only let her stay."
She turned to him such a distressed and white face that Mr. King stood perplexedly looking down at her, having nothing to say.
"I'm tired of her," at last he said; "we are all tired of her; she has about worn us out."
"Grandpapa," cried Polly, seeing her advantage in his hesitation, "if you will only let her stay, I will never beg you for anything again."
"Well, then she goes," cried Mr. King shortly. "Goodness me, Polly, if you are going to stop asking favors, Cousin Eunice marches instanter!"
"Oh! I'll beg and tease for ever so many things," cried Polly radiantly, her color coming back. "Will you let her stay, Grandpapa—will you?" She clasped his arm tightly and would not let him go.
"Well," said Mr. King slowly, "I'll think about it, Polly."
"Will you?" cried Polly. "Dear Grandpapa, please say yes."