"You did bring it, after all," exclaimed Polly, in satisfaction,
patting the brown leather cover. "Oh, how nice of you, Jasper," as they
ran over and ensconced themselves in a cosey corner.

"I took out the worst ones," said Jasper, with a laugh. "And I'm
awfully sorry I didn't leave behind more of the others."

"I hope you brought that woman with a basket of vegetables we saw at
the market the other day," said Polly, as he opened the portfolio. "Do
tell me, Jasper, you did bring that, didn't you?" beginning to fumble
through the pile.

"Yes, I did, Polly," said Jasper; "she's in there all safe and sound."

So for the next hour, there was great turning over and comparing of
sketches, and much talk about vertical lines and graceful curves, and
shading and perspective, and expression, and dear knows what all, as
the three heads bent over the portfolio. So intent were they all, that
no one heard Grandpapa come in, and he sat there in a farther corner,
for a good quarter of an hour. At last Polly looked up and saw him.

"Oh, Grandpapa!" she cried, flying off from the group, and carrying
Adela's sketch in her hand. "Just see what a perfectly beautiful
picture of Phronsie! Adela Gray made it. She draws splendidly,
Grandpapa."

Old Mr. King took the little sketch and fairly beamed at it.

"It's very like,--it is excellent," he declared, caring nothing for its
merits as a drawing, but only seeing Phronsie as she sat with the big