“Poor little daughter! But she must never know. Never. It would break her loving heart! And it matters little now whether William comes home or not!” sighed the troubled wife and mother, as she laid her own weary head on her pillow for the night.
CHAPTER VIII
CONFIDENCES
“Oh! I am so tired! If I could only just get up once!” sighed Bonny-Gay.
“Sick folks always have to stay in bed. How’d they look, sitting up, I’d like to know?” answered Mary Jane.
“But I’m not sick. I’m not sick one bit. I’m just as well as—as that parrot, yonder.”
“Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth!” shrieked Polly.
Mary Jane laid down the thirteenth doll and clapped her hands to her sides. “That bird is the absurdest thing. He makes me laugh till I ache.”
“That’s a story, that’s a story!” corrected Poll.
“No, it isn’t! No, it isn’t! No, it isn’t!” mocked Mary Jane, gaily.
Bonny-Gay laughed, too, and cried out: