truth, Polly."

"And to think it was that _great_ Herr Bauricke!" exclaimed Polly.
Then her feelings overcame her, and she sank down on the cushioned seat
in the angle.

Jasper sat down beside her. "I suppose it won't do to say anything
about people after this until we know them. Will it, Polly?"

"Jasper," declared Polly, clasping her hands, while the rosy colour
flew over her cheek, "I'm never going to say a single--"

Just then the big form of Herr Bauricke loomed up before them, as he
turned into the corridor.

Polly shrank up in her corner as small as she could, wishing she was as
little as Phronsie, and could hop up and run away.

Herr Bauricke turned his sharp eyes on them for a moment, hesitated,
then came directly up, and stopped in front of them. "I meant--I
_in_tended to speak to your grandfader first. Dat not seem best
_now_." The great man was really talking to them, and Polly held
her breath, not daring to look into his face, but keeping her gaze on
his wonderful fingers. "My child," those wonderful fingers seized her
own, and clasped them tightly, "you have great promise, mind you, you
know only a leedle now, and you must work--_work--work_." He
brought it out so sharply, that the last word was fairly shrill. "But I
tink you will," he added kindly, dropping his tone. Then he laid her
fingers gently in her lap.