"Do you paint?" asked Adela, suddenly.

"No," said Polly, "not a bit"

"Polly is all for music," said Jasper, quickly. "You ought to hear her
play."

"Oh, I can't play much now," said Polly, "but I mean tot some time.
Jasper, how long it is since we have had a duet." Her face dropped its
cheery curves and a sad little look crept into her eyes.

"That's the bother of travelling about; one can't play in a hotel,"
said Jasper. "But wait till we get to Dresden, Polly."

"Oh, I can't bear to wait," said Polly. "I don't want to hurry on,
Jasper--but oh, I do wish we could play on a piano." Her fingers
drummed on the rail in her eagerness.

"Why, you are playing now," said Adela, bursting into a laugh, "or
pretending to, Polly Pepper."

"I know it," said Polly, laughing too; "well, that's what I always used
to do in the little brown house,--drum on the table."

"In the little brown where?" demanded Adela in astonishment.

"The little brown house," answered Polly, and her eyes lightened as she
seemed to see it before her. "That's where we used to live, Adela--oh,
the sweetest place, you can't think!" Polly's fingers stopped drumming
now, and the colour flew up to her cheek; she forgot all about Adela.