"Yes, Polly." Phronsie gave a glad little cry, and wriggled in great
satisfaction in her arms. "Grandpapa, where is it,--the Hook of
Holland?"

"Oh, bless me, child!" exclaimed Mr. King, "that is the name of the
place; at least, to be accurate, it is Hoek van Holland. Now, just as
soon as we get fairly started on our way to Rotterdam, I'll tell you
all about it, or Polly shall, since she was clever enough to find out
what you meant."

"Oh, no, Grandpapa," cried Polly, "I'd so much rather you told her
--please do, dear Grandfather?"

"And so I will," he promised, very much pleased, for Mr. King dearly
loved to be the one to relate the history and anecdotes about the
places along which they travelled. And so, when they were steaming off
toward Rotterdam, as he sat in the centre of the compartment he had
reserved for their use, Phronsie next to him, and Polly and Jasper
opposite, he told the whole story. The others tucked themselves in the
remaining four seats, and did not lose a word. Matilda and Mr. King's
valet, in a second-class compartment, took charge of the luggage.

"I like it very much," declared Phronsie, when the story was all
finished, and smoothing down her little brown gown in satisfaction.

"I like it very much, Grandpapa's telling it," said Polly, "but the
Hook of Holland isn't anything to what we shall see at Rotterdam,
while, as for The Hague and Amsterdam--oh, Grandpapa!"

That "oh, Grandpapa" just won his heart, and Mr. King beamed at her as