"Don't ever want to see any more Peterses," said Joel; never, never, never!

"Oh, dear," thought Polly, as she sewed on into the afternoon, "I wonder what does all my eyes! feels just like sand in 'em;" and she rubbed and rubbed to thread her needle. But she was afraid her mother would see, so she kept at her sewing. Once in awhile the bad feeling would go away, and then she would forget all about it. "There now, who says I can't do it! that's most done," she cried, jumping up, and spinning across the room, to stretch herself a bit, "and to-morrow I'll finish it."

"Well," said Mrs. Pepper, "if you can do that, Polly, you'll be the greatest help I've had yet."

So Polly tucked herself into the old shake-down with a thankful heart that night, hoping for morning.

Alas! when morning did come, Polly could hardly move. The measles! what should she do! A faint hope of driving them off made her tumble out of bed, and stagger across the room to look in the old cracked looking-gla.s.s. All hope was gone as the red reflection met her gaze.

Polly was on the sick list now!

"I won't be sick," she said; "at any rate, I'll keep around." An awful feeling made her clutch the back of a chair, but she managed somehow to get into her clothes, and go groping blindly into the kitchen. Somehow, Polly couldn't see very well. She tried to set the table, but 'twas no use. "Oh, dear," she thought, "whatever'll mammy do?"

"Hulloa!" said Joel, coming in, "what's the matter, Polly?" Polly started at his sudden entrance, and, wavering a minute, fell over in a heap.

"Oh ma! ma!" screamed Joel, running to the foot of the stairs leading to the loft, where Mrs. Pepper was with Ben; "something's taken Polly! and she fell; and I guess she's in the wood-box!"

HARD DAYS FOR POLLY

"Ma," said David, coming softly into the bedroom, where poor Polly lay on the bed with Phronsie, her eyes bandaged with a soft old handkerchief, "I'll set the table."

"There isn't any table to set," said Mrs. Pepper, sadly; "there isn't anybody to eat anything, Davie; you and Joel can get something out of the cupboard."

"Can we get whatever we've a mind to, ma?" cried Joel, who followed Davie, rubbing his face with a towel after his morning ablutions.

"Yes," replied his mother, absently.

"Come on, Dave!" cried Joel; "we'll have a breakfast!"

"We mustn't," said little Davie, doubtfully, "eat the whole, Joey."

But that individual already had his head in the cupboard, which soon engrossed them both.

Dr. Fisher was called in the middle of the morning to see what was the matter with Polly's eyes. The little man looked at her keenly over his spectacles; then he said, "When were you taken?"

"This morning," answered Polly, her eyes smarting.

"Didn't you feel badly before?" questioned the doctor. Polly thought back; and then she remembered that she had felt very badly; that when she was baking over the old stove the day before her back had ached dreadfully; and that, somehow, when she sat down to sew, it didn't stop; only her eyes had bothered her so; she didn't mind her back so much.

"I thought so," said the doctor, when Polly answered. "And those eyes of yours have been used too much; what has she been doing, ma'am?" He turned around sharply on Mrs. Pepper as he asked this.

"Sewing," said Mrs. Pepper, "and everything; Polly does everything, sir."

"Humph!" said the doctor; "well, she won't again in one spell; her eyes are very bad."

At this a whoop, small but terrible to hear, came from the middle of the bed; and Phronsie sat bolt upright. Everybody started; while Phronsie broke out, "Don't make my Polly sick! oh! please don't!"

"Hey!" said the doctor; and he looked kindly at the small object 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.

"Do go out, mother, and see what 'tis," said Polly.

"I've come," said a cracked voice, close up by the bedroom door, followed by a big black cap, which could belong to no other than Grandma Bascom, "to set by you a spell; what's the matter?" she asked, and stopped, amazed to see Polly in bed.

"Oh, Polly's taken," screamed Mrs. Pepper in her ear.

"Taken!" repeated the old lady, "what is it--a fit?"

"No," said Mrs. Pepper; "the same as Ben's got; and Phronsie; the measles."

"The measles, has she?" said grandma; "well, that's bad; and Ben's away, you say."

"No, he isn't either," screamed Mrs. Pepper, "he's got them, too!"

"Got two what?" asked grandma.

"Measles! he's got the measles too," repeated Mrs. Pepper, loud as she could; so loud that the old lady's cap trembled at the noise.

"Oh! the dreadful!" said grandma; "and this girl too?" laying her hand on Phronsie's head.

"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper, feeling it a little relief to tell over her miseries; "all three of them!"

"I haven't," said Joel, coming in in hopes that grandma had a stray peppermint or two in her pocket, as she sometimes did; "and I'm not going to, either."

"Oh, dear," groaned his mother; "that's what Polly said; and she's got 'em bad. It's her eyes," she screamed to grandma, who looked inquiringly.

"Her eyes, is it?" asked Mrs. Bascom; "well, I've got a receet that cousin Samanthy's folks had when John's children had 'em; and I'll run right along home and get it," and she started to go.

"No, you needn't," screamed Mrs. Pepper; "thank you, Mrs. Bascom; but Dr. Fisher's been here; and he put something on Polly's eyes; and he said it mustn't be touched."