"We'll do it now, Polly," whispered Jasper, in a transport, "when
Phronsie looks like that. See her face!"

"Do you really want to go in a dirty old tram-car, Phronsie, instead of
in a carriage?" Old Mr. King pushed back his chair and looked steadily
at her.

"Oh, yes, yes, Grandpapa, please"--Phronsie beat her hands softly
together--"to ride on top; may we, _dear_ Grandpapa?" That "dear
Grandpapa" settled it. Jasper never heard such a welcome command as
that Mr. King was just issuing. "Go to the office and countermand the
order for the carriages, my son; tell them to put the amount on my
bill, the same as if I'd used them, unless they get a chance to let
them to some one else. They needn't be the losers. Now then," as Jasper
bounded off to execute the command, "get on your bonnets and hats, all
of you, and we'll try this wonderful tram-car. I suppose you won't come
with us, but will stay behind for the pleasures of some hospital here,"
he added to Dr. Fisher.

"On the contrary," said the little doctor, throwing down his napkin and
getting out of his chair. "I am going, for there is a marine hospital
for children there, that I wouldn't miss for the world."

"I warrant you would find one on a desert island," retorted old Mr.
King. "Well, hurry now, all of you--and we will be off."

"Now, then, all scramble up here. Phronsie, you go with me," cried old
Mr. King, as they stood in _plein_, and the tram-car halted before
them. He was surprised to find that he liked this sort of thing, mixing
with a crowd and hurrying for seats just like common ordinary