"Hey?" said the old lady; so Mrs. Pepper had to go all over it again, till at last she made her understand that Polly's eyes were taken care of, and they must wait for time to do the rest.

"You come along of me," whispered grandma, when at last her call was done, to Joel who stood by the door. "I've got some peppermints to home; I forgot to bring 'em."

"Yes'm," said Joel, brightening up.

"Where you going, Joe?" asked Mrs. Pepper, seeing him move off with Mrs.

Bascom; "I may want you."

"Oh, I've got to go over to grandma's," said Joel briskly; "she wants me."

"Well, don't be gone long then," replied his mother.

"There," said grandma, going into her "keeping-room" to an old-fashioned chest of drawers; opening one, she took therefrom a paper, from which she shook out before Joe's delighted eyes some red and white peppermint drops. "There now, you take these home; you may have some, but be sure you give the most to the sick ones; and Polly--let Polly have the biggest."

"She won't take 'em," said Joel, wishing he had the measles. "Well, you try her," said grandma; "run along now." But it was useless to tell Joel that, for he was half-way home already. He carried out grandma's wishes, and distributed conscientiously the precious drops. But when he came to Polly, she didn't answer; and looking at her in surprise he saw two big tears rolling out under the bandage and wetting the pillow.

"I don't want 'em, Joe," said Polly, when he made her understand that "twas peppermints, real peppermints;" "you may have 'em."

"Try one, Polly; they're real good," said Joel, who had an undefined wish to comfort; "there, open your mouth."

So Polly opened her mouth, and Joel put one in with satisfaction.

"Isn't it good?" he asked, watching her crunch it.

"Yes," said Polly, "real good; where'd you get 'em?"

"Over to Grandma Bascom's," said Joel; "she gave me lots for all of us; have another, Polly?"

"No," said Polly, "not yet; you put two on my pillow where I can reach 'em; and then you keep the rest, Joel."

"I'll put three," said Joel, counting out one red and two white ones, and laying them on the pillow; "there!"

"And I want another, Joey, I do," said Phronsie from the other side of the bed.

"Well, you may have one," said Joel; "a red one, Phronsie; yes, you may have two. Now come on, Dave; we'll have the rest out by the wood-pile."

How they ever got through that day, I don't know. But late in the afternoon carriage wheels were heard; and then they stopped right at the Peppers' little brown gate.

"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, running to the bedroom door, "it's Mrs.

Henderson!"

"Is it?" said Polly, from the darkened room, "oh! I'm so glad! is Miss Jerushy with her?" she asked, fearfully.

"No," said Mrs. Pepper, going back to ascertain; "why, it's the parson himself! Deary! how we look!"

"Never mind, mammy," called back Polly, longing to spring out of bed and fix up a bit.

"I'm sorry to hear the children are sick," said Mrs. Henderson, coming in, in her sweet, gentle way.

"We didn't know it," said the minister, "until this morning--can we see them?"

"Oh yes, sir," said Mrs. Pepper; "Ben's upstairs; and Polly and Phronsie are in here."

"Poor little things!" said Mrs. Henderson, compa.s.sionately; "hadn't you better," turning to the minister, "go up and see Ben first, while I will visit the little girls?"

So the minister mounted the crooked stairs; and Mrs. Henderson went straight up to Polly's side; and the first thing Polly knew, a cool, gentle hand was laid on her hot head, and a voice said, "I've come to see my little chicken now!"

"Oh, ma'am," said Polly, bursting into a sob, "I don't care about my eyes--only mammy--" and she broke right down.

"I know," said the minister's wife, soothingly; "but it's for you to bear patiently, Polly--what do you suppose the chicks were doing when I came away?" And Mrs. Henderson, while she held Polly's hand, smiled and nodded encouragingly to Phronsie, who was staring at her from the other side of the bed.

"I don't know, ma'am," said Polly; "please tell us."

"Well, they were all fighting over a gra.s.shopper--yes, ten of them."

"Which one got it?" asked Polly in intense interest; "oh! I hope the white one did!"

"Well, he looked as much like winning as any of them," said the lady, laughing.

"Bless her!" thought Mrs. Pepper to herself out in the kitchen, finishing the sack Polly had left; "she's a parson's wife, I say!"

And then the minister came down from Ben's room, and went into the bedroom; and Mrs. Henderson went up-stairs into the loft.

"So," he said kindly, as after patting Phronsie's head he came over and sat down by Polly, "this is the little girl who came to see me when I was sick."

"Oh, sir," said Polly, "I'm so glad you wasn't!"

"Well, when I come again," said Mr. Henderson, rising after a merry chat, "I see I shall have to slip a book into my pocket, and read for those poor eyes."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Polly; and then she stopped and blushed.

"Well, what is it?" asked the minister, encouragingly.

"Ben loves to hear reading," said Polly.

"Does he? well, by that time, my little girl, I guess Ben will be down-stairs; he's all right, Polly; don't you worry about him--and I'll sit in the kitchen, by the bedroom door, and you can hear nicely."

So the Hendersons went away. But somehow, before they went, a good many things found their way out of the old-fashioned chaise into the Peppers'

little kitchen.

But Polly's eyes didn't get any better, with all the care; and the lines of worry on Mrs. Pepper's face grew deeper and deeper. At last, she just confronted Dr. Fisher in the kitchen, one day after his visit to Polly, and boldly asked him if they ever could be cured. "I know she's--and there isn't any use keeping it from me," said the poor woman--"she's going to be stone-blind!"

"My good woman," Dr. Fisher's voice was very gentle; and he took the hard, brown hand in his own--"your little girl will not be blind; I tell you the truth; but it will take some time to make her eyes quite strong--time, and rest. She has strained them in some way, but she will come out of it."

"Praise the Lord!" cried Mrs. Pepper, throwing her ap.r.o.n over her head; and then she sobbed on, "and thank you, sir--I can't ever thank you--for--for--if Polly was blind, we might as well give up!"

The next day, Phronsie, who had the doctor's permission to sit up, only she was to be kept from taking cold, scampered around in stocking-feet in search of her shoes, which she hadn't seen since she was first taken sick.

"Oh, I want on my very best shoes," she cried; "can't I, mammy?"