"Don't feel bad, mammy dear," comforted Polly, sewing away
briskly; "Ben'll get well pretty soon, and then we'll be all right."

"Maybe," said Mrs. Pepper; and went back to Phronsie, who could
scarcely let her out of her sight.

Polly stitched away bravely. "Now if I do this good, mammy'll let
me do it other times," she said to herself.

Davie, too, worked patiently out of doors, trying to do Ben's
chores. The little fellow blundered over things that Ben would
have accomplished in half the time, and he had to sit down often
on the steps of the little old shed where the tools were kept, to
wipe his hot face and rest.

"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "hadn't you better stop a little? Dear me!
how fast you sew, child!"

Polly gave a delighted little hum at her mother's evident approval.

"I'm going to do 'em all next week, mammy," she said; "then Mr.
Atkins won't take 'em away from us, I guess."

Mr. Atkins kept the store, and gave out coats and sacks of coarse
linen and homespun to Mrs. Pepper to make; and it was the fear of
losing the work that had made the mother's heart sink.

"I don't believe anybody's got such children as I have," she said;
and she gave Polly a motherly little pat that the little daughter felt
clear to the tips of her toes with a thrill of delight.