"Launkelot and Fridoline couldn't never wash and wipe dishes," said Holly Belle hopelessly. "They'd break them all up."
"Indeed they can, if they try," returned Miss Billy stoutly. "My brother Theodore can wash and wipe dishes as deftly as a girl,—and he could do it at their age, too."
"'Twould be an awful help," mused Holly Belle, "and our yard an' alley is a sight to behold, but I ain't got no time to clean it."
"Of course you haven't. But you are doing noble work in this kitchen every day,—and taking care of those babies beside. It's noble work, Holly Belle."
Holly Belle's lips quivered, and her tears fell. "I ain't like other girls," she sobbed. "I used to go to bed of nights an' dream I had a piano an' could play on it. An' when I'd wake up I'd be so disappointed it seemed to me I couldn't stand it. An' I used to go on hopin' and hopin' that I'd get one, an' learn, but I know it's too late now. I'm growin' on fourteen, already."
Miss Billy, taking in all the pathos of the starved little life, found no words to reply. "But the thing that hurts worst," went on Holly Belle, wiping her tears on her apron, "is that I can't go to school. I had to stop when Mikey was a baby, and then just as I got started again the twins came, and I guess I'll never go back. The teacher came to see maw, an' told her how quick I learned,—but it didn't do no good, an' I'll have to stay right here in this kitchen all the rest of my life."
Miss Billy crossed over to the drooping little figure, and put her arm about her. "Keep hoping, Holly Belle," she counselled: "Keep hoping, and keep on trying. I'm sure it will all come out right. I have a solemn conviction that when one wishes hard enough for a thing, it comes to pass. And so I am sure the school days will come again, and the piano and the lessons, too."
Holly Belle dried her tears. "You've made me feel almost sure of it, too," she said, with a smile. "I'm thankful for the help you've been to me with the work, Miss Billy,—and I'll send the children over in the morning."