"Oh Jasper," exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands, "do you suppose we'll
ever get to a piano where it's all alone, and nobody wants to play on
it--"
"But just you and I," finished Jasper. "I declare I don't know. You see
we don't stay still long enough in any one place to hire a decent one;
and besides, father said, when we started, that it was better for us to
rest and travel about without any practising this summer. You know he
did, Polly."
"I know it," said Polly; "but oh, if we could just play once in a
while," she added mournfully.
"Well, we can't," said Jasper, savagely; "you know we tried that at
Brussels, when we thought everybody had gone off. And those half a
dozen idiots came and stared at us through the glass door."
"And then they came in," added Polly, with a little shiver at the
recollection. "But that big fat man with the black beard was the worst,
Jasper." She glanced around as if she expected to see him coming down
the long parlour.
"Well, he didn't hear much; there didn't any of them," said Jasper;
"that's some small satisfaction, because you hopped off the piano stool
and ran away."
"You ran just as fast, I'm sure, Jasper," said Polly, with a little
laugh.
"Well, perhaps I did," confessed Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "Who
wouldn't run with a lot of staring idiots flying at one?" he brought up
in disgust.
"And we forgot the music," went on Polly, deep in the reminiscence,
"and we wouldn't go back--don't you remember?--until the big fat man
with the dreadful black beard had gone, for he'd picked it up and been
looking at it."
"Yes, I remember all about it," said Jasper; "dear me, what a time we
had! It's enough to make one wish that the summer was all over, and
that we were fairly settled in Dresden," he added gloomily, as he saw
her face.
"Oh, no," exclaimed Polly, quickly, and quite shocked to see the
mischief that she had done.
"We wouldn't have the beautiful summer go a bit faster, Jasper. Why,
that would be too dreadful to think of."
"But you want to get at your music, Polly."
"I'll fly at it when the time comes," cried Polly, with a wise little
nod, "never you fear, Jasper. Now come on; let's get Phronsie and go
out and see the shops."
Old Mr. King in a nook behind the curtain, dropped the newspaper in his
lap and thought a bit. "Best to wait till we get to Lucerne," he said
to himself, nodding his white head; "then, says I, Polly, my child, you
shall have your piano."
And when their party were settling down in the hotel at Lucerne, ending
the beautiful days of travel after leaving Munich, Jasper's father
called him abruptly. "See here, my boy."
"What is it, father?" asked Jasper, wonderingly; "the luggage is all
right; it's gone up to the rooms--all except the portmanteau, and
Francis will go down to the station and straighten that out."
"I'm not in the least troubled in regard to the luggage, Jasper,"
replied his father, testily; "it's something much more important than
the luggage question about which I wish to speak to you."
Jasper stared, well knowing his father's views in regard to the luggage
question. "The first thing that you must unpack--the very first," old
Mr. King was saying, "is your music. Don't wait a minute, Jasper, but
go and get it. And then call Polly, and--"
"Why, father," exclaimed Jasper, "there isn't a single place to play
in. You don't know how people stare if we touch the piano. We can't
here, father; there's such a crowd in this hotel."
"You do just as I say, Jasper," commanded his father. "And tell Polly
to get her music; and then do you two go to the little room out of the
big parlour, and play to your hearts' content." And he burst into a
hearty laugh at Jasper's face, as he dangled a key at the end of a
string, before him.
"Now I do believe, father, that you've got Polly a piano and a little
room to play in," cried Jasper, joyfully, and pouncing on the key.
"You go along and do as I tell you," said Mr. King, mightily pleased at
the success of his little plan. "And don't you tell Polly Pepper one
word until she has taken her music down in the little room," as Jasper
bounded off on the wings of the wind.
And in that very hotel was the big fat man with the dreadful black
beard, resting after a long season of hard work.
But Polly and Jasper wouldn't have cared had they known it, as long as
they had their own delightful little music room to themselves--as they
played over and over all the dear old pieces, and Polly revelled in
everything that she was so afraid she had forgotten.
"I really haven't lost it, Jasper!" she would exclaim radiantly, after
finishing a concerto, and dropping her hands idly on the keys. "And I
was _so_ afraid I'd forgotten it entirely. Just think, I haven't played
that for three months, Jasper King."
"Well, you haven't forgotten a bit of it," declared Jasper, just as
glad as she was. "You didn't make any mistakes, hardly, Polly."
"Oh, yes, I made some," said Polly, honestly, whirling around on the
piano stool to look at him.
"Oh, well, only little bits of ones," said Jasper; "those don't
signify. I wish father could have heard that concerto. What a pity he
went out just before you began it."
But somebody else, on the other side of the partition between the
little music room and the big parlour, had heard, and he pulled his
black beard thoughtfully with his long fingers, then pricked up his
ears to hear more. And it was funny how, almost every day, whenever the
first notes on the piano struck up in Mr. King's little music room, the
big fat man, who was so tired with his season of hard work, never
seemed to think that he could rest as well as in that particular corner
up against that partition. And no matter what book or paper he had in
his hand, he always dropped it and fell to pulling his black beard with
his long fingers, before the music was finished.
And then, "Oh, Polly, come child, you have played long enough," from
Mother Fisher on the other side of the partition; or old Mr. King would
say, "No more practising to-day, Miss Polly;" or Phronsie would pipe
out, "Polly, Grandpapa is going to take us out on the lake; do come,
Polly." And then it was funnier yet to see how suddenly the big fat man
with the dreadful black beard seemed to find that particular corner by
that partition a very tiresome place. And as the piano clicked down its
cover, he would yawn, and get up and say something in very rapid German
to himself, and off he would go, forgetting all about his book or
newspaper, which, very likely, would tumble to the floor, and flap away
by itself till somebody came and picked it up and set it on the sofa.
One morning old Mr. King, hurrying along with his batch of English mail
to enjoy opening it in the little music room where Jasper and Polly
were playing a duet, ran up suddenly against a fat heavy body coming
around an opposite angle.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir," exclaimed Mr. King in great distress, the
more so as he saw that the stranger's glasses were knocked off his nose
by the collision. "I do trust they are not broken," he added, in a
concerned tone, endeavouring to pick them up.
But the big man was before him. "Not a beet, not a beet," he declared,
adjusting them on his nose again. Then he suddenly grasped old Mr.
King's hand. "And I be very glad, sir, _very_ glad indeed, dat I haf
roon into you."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. King, releasing his hand instantly, and all the
concern dropping out of his face.
"_Very_ glad indeed!" repeated the big man, heartily; then he pulled
his black beard, and stood quite still a moment.
"If you have nothing more to remark, sir," said Mr. King, haughtily,
"perhaps you will be kind enough to stand out of my way, and allow me
to pass. And it would be as well for you to observe more care in the
future, sir, both in regard to your feet, and your tongue, sir."
"Yes, I am _very_ glad," began the big man again, who hadn't even heard
Mr. King's tirade, "for now--" and he gave his black beard a final
twitch, and his eyes suddenly lightened with a smile that ran all over
his face, "I can speak to you of dis ting dat is in my mind. Your--"
"I want to hear nothing of what is on your mind," declared old Mr.
King, now thoroughly angry. "Stand aside, fellow, and let me pass," he
commanded, in a towering passion.
The big man stared in astonishment into the angry face, the smile
dropping out of his own. "I beg to _ex_cuse myself," he said, with a
deep bow, and a wave of his long fingers. "Will you pass?" and he moved
up as tightly as possible to the wall.
Old Mr. King went into the little music room in a furious rage, and
half an hour afterward Polly and Jasper, pausing to look around, saw
him tossing and tumbling his letters and newspapers about on the table,
fuming to himself all the while.
"Father has had bad news!" exclaimed Jasper, turning pale; "something
about his agents, probably."
"O dear me! and here we have been playing," cried Polly in remorse,
every vestige of colour flying from her cheek.
"Well, we didn't know," said Jasper, quickly. "But what can we do now,
Polly?" he turned to her appealingly.
"I don't know," she was just going to say helplessly, but Jasper's face
made her see that something must be done. "Let's go and tell him we are
sorry," she said; "that's what Mamsie always liked best if she felt
badly."
So the two crept up behind old Mr. King's chair: "Father, I'm _so_
sorry," and "Dear Grandpapa, I'm _so_ sorry," and Polly put both arms
around his neck suddenly.
"Eh--what?" cried Mr. King, sitting bolt upright in astonishment. "Oh,
bless me, children, I thought you were playing on the piano."
"We were," said Polly, hurrying around to the side of the table, her
face quite rosy now, "but we didn't know--" and she stopped short,
unable to find another word.
"--that you felt badly," finished Jasper. "Oh, father, we didn't know
that you'd got bad news." He laid his hand as he spoke on the pile of
tumbled-up letters.
"Bad news!" ejaculated old Mr. King, in perplexity, and looking from
one to the other.
"No, we didn't," repeated Polly, clasping her hands. "Dear Grandpapa,
we truly didn't, or we wouldn't have kept on playing all this time."
Mr. King put back his head and laughed long and loud, as he hadn't done
for many a day, his ill humour dropping off in the midst of it. "The
letters are all right," he said, wiping his eyes, "never had better
news. It was an impertinent fellow I met out there, that's all."
"Father, who has dared--" began Jasper, with flashing eyes.
"Don't you worry, my boy; it's all right, the fellow got his quietus;
besides, he wasn't worth minding," said Mr. King, carelessly. "Why,
here is your mother," turning to Polly. "Now then, Mrs. Fisher, what is
it; for I see by your eye some plan is on the carpet."
"Yes, there is," said Mrs. Fisher, coming in with a smile, "the doctor
is going to take a day off."
"Is that really so?" cried Mr. King, with a little laugh. "What! not
even going to visit one of his beloved hospitals?" while Polly
exclaimed, radiantly, "Oh, how perfectly elegant! Now we'll have
Papa-Doctor for a whole long day!"
Phronsie, who had been close to her mother's gown during the delivery
of this important news, clasped her hands in a quiet rapture, while
Polly exclaimed, "Now, Grandpapa, can it be the Rigi?" Jasper echoing
the cry heartily.
"I suppose it is to be the Rigi," assented old Mr. King, leaning back
in his chair to survey them all, "that is, if Mrs. Fisher approves.
We'll let you pick out the jaunting place," turning to her, "seeing
that it is the doctor's holiday."
"I know that Dr. Fisher wants very much to go up the Rigi," said his
wife, in great satisfaction at the turn the plans were taking.
"And we'll stay over night, father," cried Jasper, "won't we?"
"Stay over night?" repeated his father, "I should say so. Why, what
would be the good of our going up at all, pray tell, if we didn't
devote that much time to it and have a try for a sunrise?"
"We're to go up the Rigi!" exclaimed Polly, giving a little whirl, and
beginning to dance around the room, repeating, "We're to go up the
Rigi," exactly as if nobody knew it, and she was telling perfectly
fresh news.
"Here--that dance looks awfully good--wait for me," cried Jasper. And
seizing her hands, they spun round and round, Phronsie scuttling after
them, crying, "Take me, too. I want to dance, Polly."
"So you shall," cried Polly and Jasper together; so they made a little
ring of three, and away they went, Polly this time crying, "Just think,
we're going to have the most beautiful sunrise in all this world."
And on the other side of the partition, in his accustomed nook in the
big parlour, the big fat man with the black beard sat. He pulled this
same black beard thoughtfully a bit, when Mr. King was telling about
the impertinent fellow. Then he smiled and jabbered away to himself
very hard in German; and it wasn't till the King party hurried off to
get ready for the Rigi trip, that he got up and sauntered off.
And almost the first person that old Mr. King saw on getting his party
into a car on the funicular railway, was the "impertinent fellow," also
bound for the top of the Rigi.
"Oh, Grandpapa!" Polly got out of her seat and hurried to him with
cheeks aflame, when midway up.
"I know--isn't it wonderful!" cried Grandpapa, happy in her pleasure,
and finding it all just as marvellous as if he hadn't made the ascent
several times.
"Yes, yes!" cried Polly. "It is all perfectly splendid, Grandpapa; but
oh, I mean, _did_ you hear what that lady said?" and she dropped her
voice, and put her mouth close to Grandpapa's ear.
"I'm sure I didn't," said old Mr. King, carelessly, "and I'm free to
confess I'm honestly glad of it. For if there is one thing I detest
more than another, Polly, my girl, it is to hear people, especially
women, rave and gush over the scenery."
"Oh, she didn't rave and gush," cried Polly, in a whisper, afraid that
the lady heard. "She said, Grandpapa, that Herr Bauricke is at Lucerne;
just think, Grandpapa, the great Herr Bauricke!"
She took her mouth away from the old gentleman's ear in order to look
in his face.
"Polly, Polly," called Jasper from his seat on the farther end, "you
are losing all this," as the train rounded a curve. "Do come back."
"Now, I'm glad of that," exclaimed Grandpapa, in a tone of the greatest
satisfaction, "for I can ask him about the music masters in Dresden and
get his advice, and be all prepared before we go there for the winter
to secure the very best."
"And I can see him, and perhaps hear him play," breathed Polly, in an
awestruck tone, quite lost to scenery and everything else. Jasper
leaned forward and stared at her in amazement. Then he slipped out of
his seat, and made his way up to them to find out what it was all about.
"How did she know?" he asked, as Polly told all she knew; "I'm just
going to ask her." But the lady, who had caught snatches of the
conversation, though she hadn't heard Mr. King's part of it, very
obligingly leaned forward in her seat and told all she knew.
And by the time this was done, they all knew that the information was
in the American paper printed in Paris, and circulated all over the
Continent, and that the lady had read it that very morning just before
setting out.
"The only time I missed reading that paper," observed old Mr. King,
regretfully.
"And he is staying at our very hotel," finished the lady, "for I have
seen you, sir, with your party there."
"Another stroke of good luck," thought old Mr. King, "and quite easy to
obtain the information I want as to a master for Polly and Jasper."
"Now then, children," he said to the two hanging on the conversation,
"run back to your seats and enjoy the view. This news of ours will
keep."
So Polly and Jasper ran back obediently, but every step of the toilsome
ascent by which the car pushed its way to the wonderful heights above,
Polly saw everything with the words, "Herr Bauricke is at _our_ hotel,"
ringing through her ears; and she sat as in a maze. Jasper was nearly
as bad.
And then everybody was pouring out of the cars and rushing for the
hotel on the summit; all but Mr. King's party and a few others, who had
their rooms engaged by telegraphing up. When they reached the big
central hall there was a knot of Germans all talking together, and on
the outside fringe of this knot, people were standing around and
staring at the central figure. Suddenly some one darted away from this
outer circle and dashed up to them. It was the lady from their hotel.
"I knew you'd want to know," she exclaimed breathlessly; "that's Herr
Bauricke himself--he came up on our train--just think of it!--the big
man in the middle with the black beard." She pointed an excited finger
at the knot of Germans.
Old Mr. King followed the course of the finger, and saw his
"impertinent fellow who wasn't worth minding."