with a very red face in the middle of the bed. Then he added,
gently, "We're going to make Polly well, little girl; so that she can
see splendidly."

"Will you, really?" asked the child, doubtfully.

"Yes," said the doctor; "we'll try hard; and you mustn't cry; 'cause
then Polly'll cry, and that will make her eyes very bad; very bad
indeed," he repeated, impressively.

"I won't cry," said Phronsie; "no, not one bit." And she wiped off
the last tear with her fat little hand, and watched to see what next
was to be done.



And Polly was left, very rebellious indeed, in the big bed, with a
cooling lotion on the poor eyes, that somehow didn't cool them one
bit.

"If 'twas anythin' but my eyes, mammy, I could stand it," she
bewailed, flouncing over and over in her impatience; "and who'll
do all the work now?"

"Don't think of the work, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper.

"I can't do anything but think," said poor Polly.

Just at that moment a queer noise out in the kitchen was heard.