Cherry, twittering in the window, chirped something vague and unsatisfactory. Polly brought up her brown head suddenly and laughed.
"Nonsense! our happiness doesn't depend upon a lot of people coming together to help it along. Mamsie's face, whenever Grandpapa plans all this magnificence, is enough to make me feel wretched at the thought of it. Dear Mamsie! she's afraid of ingratitude if she doesn't try to like it. She shall have the little morning wedding with a few people around, and the gray silk gown instead of the lavender one Grandpapa wants her to wear, for Mamsie always knows just what is right."
With that, Polly sprang out of bed, and rushed at her toilet, and after breakfast she quietly captured Mr. King on the edge of some other extravagant plan, and led him into the library.
"Everything is going on finely, Polly," he cried in elation. "Ring for Thomas, child; stay, I'll do it myself. I shall go in an hour to give my orders for the wedding supper."
"Grandpapa," cried Polly, turning quite pale, and laying a quick, detaining hand on his arm, "oh! do wait, dear Grandpapa, I have something to say."
"Well, child," but he still retained his hand on the cord.
"Oh, Grandpapa!" how could she say it! But she must. "Mamsie will be ever so much happier if the wedding might be a quiet one. She really would, Grandpapa."
"No doubt Mrs. Pepper finds it a little hard to adjust her ideas to the large affair," said the old gentleman, considerably disturbed, and by no means relinquishing the bell-cord, "but it is due to you children to have a bright time, and I must see that you all have it. That is my affair," and this time the cord was pulled, and the bell rang a loud, insistent message.
Polly stood still in despair. "Grandpapa," she said distinctly, finding it hard to proceed, with his face before her, "we children do not want the large party; that is I do not."
It was all out at last.