"Yes, we are going," said Fanny Vanderburgh as they met after dinner in
the corridor. Her eyes were swollen, and she twisted her handkerchief
in her fingers. "And I did--did--did--" here she broke down and
sobbed--"so want to hear the Wagner operas."

"Don't cry," begged Polly, quite shocked. "Oh, Fanny, why can't you
stay? How very dreadful to lose the Wagner music!" Polly could think of
no worse calamity that could befall one.

"Mamma doesn't know anybody here except your party," mumbled Fanny,
"and she's upset, and declares that we must go back to Paris
to-morrow. Oh, Polly Pepper, I hate Paris," she exploded. And then
sobbed worse than ever.

"Wait here," said Polly, "till I come back." Then she ran on light feet
to Grandpapa, just settling behind a newspaper in a corner of the
general reading room.

"Grandpapa, dear, may I speak to you a minute?" asked Polly, with a
woful feeling at her heart. It seemed as if he must hear it beating.

"Why, yes, child, to be sure," said Mr. King, quite surprised at her
manner. "What is it?" and he laid aside his paper and smiled
reassuringly.

But Polly's heart sank worse than ever. "Grandpapa," she began
desperately, "Fanny Vanderburgh is feeling dreadfully."

"And I should think she would with such a mother," exclaimed the old