CHAPTER IX. LESSONS

andsayafriendlywordtomylittlegirl.Thesightofyouwilldohergoodandyouhavejusttherightwayofcomfortingpeople,withoutmakingafuss.” “HaveI?”saidPolly,lookingmuchgratifiedbythewords. “Yes,dear,you'vethegiftofsympathy,andtherareartofshowingitwithoutoffending.Iwouldn'tletmanygirlsintoseemypoorJenny,becausethey'donlyflutterandworryherbutyou'llknowwhattodosogo,andtakethiswrapperwithyouit'sdonenow,thankstoyournimblefingers.” Pollythrewthewarmgarmentoverherarm,feelingathrillofgratitudethatitwastowrapalivinggirlin,andnottohideawayayoungheartthathadgrowncoldtoosoon.Pushingopenthedoor,shewentquietlyintothedimlylightedroom,andonthepillowsawafacethatdrewhertoitwithanirresistiblepower,foritwastouchedbyasolemnshadowthatmadeitsyouthpathetic.Asshepausedatthebedside,thinkingthegirlasleep,apairofhollow,darkeyesopenedwide,andlookedupatherstartledatfirst,thensofteningwithpleasure,atsightofthebonnyfacebeforethem,andthenahumble,beseechingexpressionfilledthem,asifaskingpardonfortherashactnearlycommitted,andpityforthehardfatethatpromptedit.Pollyreadthelanguageoftheseeyes,andansweredtheirmuteprayerwithasimpleeloquencethatsaidmorethananywordsforshejuststoopeddownandkissedthepoorchild,withherowneyesfull,andlipsthattrembledwiththesympathyshecouldnottell.Jennyputbotharmsaboutherneck,andbegantoshedthequiettearsthatsorefreshandcomfortheavyheartswhenatendertouchunsealsthefountainwheretheylie. “Everybodyissokind,”shesobbed,“andIwassowicked,Idon'tdeserveit.” “Oh,yes,youdodon'tthinkofthat,butrestandletuspetyou.Theoldlifewastoohardforsuchalittlethingasyou,andwearegoingtotryandmakethenewoneeversomucheasierandhappier,”saidPolly,forgettingeverythingexceptthatthiswasagirllikeherself,whoneededhearteningup. “Doyoulivehere?”askedJenny,whenhertearswerewipedaway,stillclingingtothenew-foundfriend. “Yes,MissMillsletsmehavealittleroomupstairs,andthereIhavemycatandbird,mypianoandmyposypots,andlivelikeaqueen.Youmustcomeupandseemeto-morrowifyouareable.I'moftenlonely,fortherearenoyoungpeopleinthehousetoplaywithme,”answeredPolly,smilinghospitably. “Doyousew?”askedJenny. “No,I'mamusicteacher,andtrotroundgivinglessonsallday.” “Howbeautifulitsounds,andhowhappyyoumustbe,sostrongandpretty,andabletogoroundmakingmusicallthetime,”sighedJenny,lookingwithrespectfuladmirationattheplump,firmhandheldinbothherthinandfeebleones. ItdidsoundpleasanteventoPolly'sears,andshefeltsuddenlysorich,andsocontented,thatsheseemedadifferentcreaturefromthesillygirlwhocriedbecauseshecouldn'tgototheparty.Itpassedthroughhermindlikeaflash,thecontrastbetweenherlife,andthatofthewancreaturelyingbeforeher,andshefeltasifshecouldnotgiveenoughoutofherabundancetothisneedylittlesister,whohadnothinginthewideworldbutthelifejustsavedtoher.ThatminutedidmoreforPollythanmanysermons,orthewisestbooks,foritbroughtherfacetofacewithbittertruths,showedherthedarksideoflife,andseemedtoblowawayherlittlevanities,herfrivolousdesires,likeawintrywind,thatleftawholesomeatmospherebehind.Sittingonthebedside,PollylistenedwhileJanetoldthestory,whichwassonewtoherlistener,thateverywordsankdeepintoherheart,andneverwasforgotten. “Nowyoumustgotosleep.Don'tcrynorthink,nordoanythingbutrest.ThatwillpleaseMissMillsbest.I'llleavethedoorsopen,andplayyoualullabythatyoucan'tresist.Goodnight,dear.”Andwithanotherkiss,Pollywentawaytositinthedarknessofherownroom,playinghersoftestairstillthetiredeyesbelowwereshut,andlittleJaneseemedtofloatawayonaseaofpleasantsounds,intothehappierlifewhichhadjustdawnedforher. Pollyhadfullyintendedtobeverymiserable,andcryherselftosleepbutwhenshelaydownatlast,herpillowseemedverysoft,herlittleroomverylovely,withthefirelightflickeringonallthehome-likeobjects,andhernew-blownrosesbreathingherasweetgood-night.Shenolongerfeltaninjured,hard-working,unhappyPolly,butasifquiteburdenedwithblessings,forwhichshewasn'thalfgratefulenough.Shehadheardofpovertyandsuffering,inthevague,far-offway,whichisallthatmanygirls,safeinhappyhomes,everknowofitbutnowshehadseenit,inashapewhichshecouldfeelandunderstand,andlifegrewmoreearnesttoherfromthatminute.Somuchtodointhegreat,busyworld,andshehaddonesolittle.Whereshouldshebegin?Then,likeananswercamelittleJenny'swords,nowtakinga'newsignificance'toPolly'smind,“Tobestrong,andbeautiful,andgoroundmakingmusicallthetime.”Yes,shecoulddothatandwithaveryearnestprayer,Pollyaskedforthestrengthofanuprightsoul,thebeautyofatenderheart,thepowertomakeherlifeasweetandstirringsong,helpfulwhileitlasted,rememberedwhenitdied. LittleJane'slastthoughthadbeentowishwithallhermight,that“Godwouldblessthedear,kindgirlupthere,andgiveherallsheasked.”Ithinkbothprayers,althoughtoohumbletobeputinwords,wentuptogether,forinthefulnessoftimetheywerebeautifullyanswered.