white. "I am so glad."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom, abruptly. "It's only one of his crotchets.
You don't know; he gets up plenty of 'em on occasion."

"What did you want a sovereign for?" asked the old gentleman,
querulously, taking his sharp little eyes off Polly to fasten them on
his grandson's face. "Say, I _will_ know."

"And I say no matter," retorted Tom, roughly. "And you ought to come
down to your state-room where you belong. Come, Granddad!" And he tried
again to lay hold of his arm. But the little old gentleman sank back,
and looked up at Polly again. "I think I'll stay here," he said.

"I say," began the boy, in an embarrassed way, "this is dreadfully
rough on you," and then he looked away from Polly to Jasper. "And if
you knew him as well as I do," nodding his head at his Grandfather,
"you wouldn't get in such a funk."

Polly was busy smoothing the hot forehead under the white hair, and
appeared not to notice a word he said.

"Your Grandfather really appears ill," said Jasper. "And the doctor
might give him something to help him."

Tom burst into a short laugh and kicked his heel against the table.
"Hoh! hoh! I say, you don't know him; oh, what muffs you are! He's well
enough, only he's determined not to go to his state-room where he
belongs, but to kick up a row here."