ay, Grandpapa, you know."

"Yes, she did, father," cried Jasper, bobbing his head scarcely less
excited, just as if old Mr. King hadn't heard the story many times.

Mr. Potter, for want of something to do to express his amazement, picked
up his hat, stroked it, and set it down again, staring with all his
might.

"So you did, Polly; so you did, my child," cried Grandpapa, taking her
hands in both of his, and looking down into her shining eyes; "well,
well, to be sure. Now, Jasper, get the tablet, and write down the
address of Jim's family as quickly as you can, my boy."

So Jasper ran over to the library table, and brought back the tablet and
pencil hanging to it; and pretty soon Jim's home was all described
thus: "Mrs. James Corcoran, 5 Willow Court--third house from Haven
Street."

"It's kinder hard to find," observed Mr. Potter slowly, "because Willow
Court runs into Haven Street criss-cross, and this number isn't on the
house; it's got rubbed off; but if you follow up No. 3, and come up
carefully, why, there you'll be where No. 5 was."

"Oh dear me!" said Mr. King. "Well, you may describe the house, for I am
going down there to-morrow, and I certainly do not wish to waste my time
walking about."

Polly and Jasper looked so very decidedly "Oh, may we go too?" that the
old gentleman added quickly, "And my young people will accompany me,"
which really left nothing more to be desired at present.

"Well, it's a yellow house," said Mr. Potter, thinking very hard, "that
is, it is in spots, where the paint is on; and it's low, and runs down
to the back, and sets sideways. But I tell you how you'll know it. She's
got--Mrs. Jim Corcoran has--the greatest lot of flowers in her window.
They're chock full, sir."

"I shall know it, then," cried Polly in great satisfaction.

"I think there's no danger, sir, but what we will find the place all
right." Old Mr. King was fumbling in his pocket in great perplexity. "It
never would do," he decided, pulling his hand out. "No, I must contrive
to send him something. Well, now--hem--Mr. Potter," he said aloud, "and
where do you live? Quite near, I presume?"

"Oh, just the other end of the town, sir," said Mr. Potter. "I live on
Acorn Street."

"Acorn Street?" repeated Mr. King, wrinkling his brows, "and where may
that be, pray tell?"

"It's over at the South End, sir; it runs off from Baker Street and
Highland Square."

"Oh yes, yes," said the old gentleman, without much mo