It was so very much worse than Jasper had dreamed, that he collapsed
into the first chair, all Polly's prospects melting off like dew before
the sun.

"Hum!" Little Dr. Fisher was the first to speak. He took off his big
spectacles and wiped them; then put them on his nose and adjusted them
carefully, and glared around the group, his gaze resting on old Mr.
King's face.

Polly, who had never seen Jasper give way like this, forgot her own
distress, and rushed up to him. "Oh, don't, Jasper," she begged.

"You see I can't allow Herr Bauricke to give any lessons or advice to
Polly after this," went on Mr. King, hastily. "Of course he would be
paid; but, under the circumstances, it wouldn't do, not in the least.
It is quite out of the question," he went on, as if some one had been
contradicting him. But no one said a word.

"Why don't some of you speak?" he asked, breaking the pause. "Dr.
Fisher, you don't generally keep us waiting for your opinion. Speak out
now, man, and let us have it."

"It is an awkward affair, surely," began the little doctor, slowly.

"Awkward? I should say so," frowned Mr. King; "it's awkward to the last
degree. Here's a man who bumps into me in a hotel passage,--though, for
that matter, I suppose it's really my fault as much as his,--and I
offer to pick up his spectacles that were dropped in the encounter. And
he tells me that he is glad that we ran up against each other, for it
gives him a chance to tell me what is on his mind. As if I cared what