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.