might do something, when the others are sick, and your poor
mother is working so hard?" she continued, in a cold voice.

"I do something," blurted out Joel, sturdily, "lots and lots!"

"You shouldn't say 'lots," reproved Miss Jerusha, with a sharp look
over her spectacles, "tisn't proper for boys to talk so; what do you
do all day long?" she asked, turning back to Polly, after a withering
glance at Joel, who still stared.

"I can't do anything, ma'am," replied Polly, sadly, "I can't see to do
anything."

"Well, you might knit, I should think," said her visitor, "it's
dreadful for a girl as big as you are to sit all day idle; I had sore
eyes once when I was a little girl--how old are you?" she asked,
abruptly.

"Eleven last month," said Polly.

"Well, I wasn't only nine when I knit a stocking; and I had sore
eyes, too; you see I was a very little girl, and--"

"Was you ever little?" interrupted Joel, in extreme incredulity,
drawing near, and looking over the big square figure.

"Hey?" said Miss Jerusha; so Joel repeated his question before
Polly could stop him.

"Of course," answered Miss Jerusha; and then she added, tartly,