Produced by Ralph Zimmerman, Steve Schulze, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
by
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.
"Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
One grand, sweet song."
"'There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl,
And it hung right down over her forehead;
And when she was good,
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad, she was horrid!'"
"And that's you!" chanted Polly Adams in a vigorous crescendo, asshe watched the retreating figure of her guest. Then climbing downfrom her perch on the front gate, she added to herself, "Mean oldthing! I s'pose she thinks I care because she's gone home; but I'mglad of it, so there!" And with an emphatic shake of her curlyhead, she ran into the house.
Up-stairs, in the large front room, sat her mother and her aunt,busy with their sewing. The blinds were closed, to keep out thewarm sun of a sultry July day, and only an occasional breath ofair found its way in between their tightly turned slats. The whirof the locust outside, and the regular creak, creak of Aunt Jane'stall rocking-chair were the only sounds to break the stillness.This peaceful scene was ruthlessly disturbed by Polly, who cameflying into the room and dropped into a chair at her mother'sside.
"Oh, how warm you are here!" she exclaimed, as she pushed back theshort red-gold hair that curled in little, soft rings about herforehead.
"Little girls that will run on such a day as this must expect tobe warm," remarked Aunt Jane sedately, while she measured a hemwith a bit of paper notched to show the proper width. "Now if youand Molly would bring your patchwork up here, and sew quietly withyour mother and me, you would be quite cool and comfortable."
"Patchwork!" echoed Polly, with a scornful litt