She turned to him such a distressed and white face that Mr. King stood perplexedly looking down at her, having nothing to say.

“I’m tired of her,” at last he said; “we are all tired of her; she has about worn us out.”

“Grandpapa,” cried Polly, seeing her advantage in his hesitation, “if you will only let her stay, I will never beg you for anything again.”

“Well, then she goes,” cried Mr. King shortly.  “Goodness me, Polly, if you are going to stop asking favors, Cousin Eunice marches instanter!”

“Oh!  I’ll beg and tease for ever so many things,” cried Polly radiantly, her color coming back.  “Will you let her stay, Grandpapa—­will you?” She clasped his arm tightly and would not let him go.

“Well,” said Mr. King slowly, “I’ll think about it, Polly.”

“Will you?” cried Polly.  “Dear Grandpapa, please say yes.”

Mr. King drew a long breath.  “Yes,” he said at last.

XIII

A PIECE OF NEWS

Collect the whole bunch of Peppers and send them into my writing-room, Marian.”  Old Mr. King mounting the stairs, turned to see that his command was heard.

“You want Mother Pepper too, I presume?” said Mrs. Whitney, pausing at the foot.

“Mother Pepper?  No, indeed; the last person in the world I wish to see,” cried her father irritably.  “The bunch of Pepper children, I want, and at once; see that they all report to me directly.”  With that he redoubled his efforts and was soon at the top of the long oaken steps.

Polly and Ben closely followed by Joel, David and Phronsie soon rushed over the same ascending thoroughfare, and presented themselves, flushed and panting, at the writing-room door.

“Come in,” called Mr. King from within.

“Here we are, sir,” said Ben, spokesman by virtue of being the eldest.

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. King nervously, and turning away from some papers he was fumbling to occupy the waiting moments.  “Well, do sit down, all of you.  I sent for you to have a talk about something that you—­that you—­well, do sit down.”

So all the Peppers deposited themselves in various resting-places; all but Joel.  He immediately marched up to the old gentleman’s chair.

“If it’s good news,” he said abruptly, “please let us have it right this minute.  But if it’s bad, why,” a gathering alarm stole over his chubby countenance, as he scanned the face before him, “I’m going out-doors.”

“It’s good or bad news according as you take it,” said the old gentleman.  “It ought to be good.  But there,” pushing back his chair to look at the row of anxious figures the other side of the table, “do sit down with the rest, Joe, and stop staring me out of countenance.”

Polly at that, pushed a chair over toward Joel, who persuading himself into it, sat uncomfortably perched on its edge, where he stared harder than ever.