pressed close to the rail, and her yellow hair floating off in the
breeze; "and Polly says it doesn't hurt him, and he likes it."

"What is it, Phronsie child?" asked old Mr. King, hearing her voice.

"Grandpapa, has he got any little whales?" asked Phronsie, suddenly
raising her face.

"Oh, yes, I imagine so," said old Mr. King; "that is, he ought to have,
I'm sure. Porpoises go in schools,--why shouldn't whales, pray tell?"

"What's a porpoise?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes.

"Oh, he's a dolphin or a grampus."

"Oh," said Phronsie, much mystified, "and does he go to school?"

"Well, they go ever so many of them together, and they call it a
school. Goodness me--that _is_ a blow!" as the whale spouted
valiantly, and looked as if he were making directly for the steamer.

"Oh, Grandpapa, he's coming right here!" screamed Phronsie, clapping
her hands in delight, and hopping up and down,--Polly and Jasper were
almost as much excited,--while the passengers ran hither and thither to
get a good view, and levelled their big glasses, and oh-ed and ah-ed.
And some of them ran to get their cameras. And Mr. Whale seemed to like
it, for he spouted and flirted his long tail and dashed into the water
and out again to blow, till they were all quite worn out looking at
him. At last, with a final plunge, he bade them all good-by and
disappeared.