"Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I
take out?"

"In the front attic." Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: "I
suppose I may as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss
Pollyanna Whittier, is coming to live with me. She is eleven
years old, and will sleep in that room."

"A little girl--coming here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won't that be
nice!" cried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little
sisters made in the home at "The Corners."

"Nice? Well, that isn't exactly the word I should use," rejoined
Miss Polly, stiffly. "However, I intend to make the best of it,
of course. I am a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty."

Nancy colored hotly.

"Of course, ma'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here
might--might brighten things up for you," she faltered.

"Thank you," rejoined the lady, dryly. "I can't say, however,
that I see any immediate need for that."

"But, of course, you--you'd want her, your sister's child,"
ventured Nancy, vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a
welcome for this lonely little stranger.

Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily.