clear of the bunch of steamer chairs whose occupants had suddenly left
them, too, to see the whale. "Poor whale--I'm sorry for him, Polly."

"Oh, he's happy," said Polly, "he likes it just as it is. He comes up
for a little while to blow and--"

"I thought you said he came up to breathe, Polly," said Phronsie,
tugging at Polly's hand, and guilty of interrupting.

"Well, and so he does, and to blow, too,--it's just the same thing,"
said Polly, quickly.

"Is it just exactly the same?" asked Phronsie.

"Yes, indeed; that is, in the whale's case," answered Polly, as they
ran up to Grandpapa and the rest of their party, and the knots of other
passengers, all staring hard at a certain point on the sparkling waste
of water.

"I thought you were never coming," said old Mr. King, moving away from
the rail to tuck Polly and Phronsie in where they could get a good
view. "Oh, there he is--there he is--Jasper, look!" cried Polly.

"There he is!" crowed Phronsie, now much excited. "Oh, isn't he big,
Grandpapa?"

"I should say he was," declared Mr. King. "I think I never saw a finer
whale in my life, Phronsie."

"He comes up to blow," said Phronsie, softly to herself, her face