“Would you mind telling about him? You know, you said you would some time; but don't, if you'd rather not,” said Tom, lowering his rough voice respectfully.
“I like to talk about him; but there is n't much to tell,” began Polly, grateful for his interest. “Sitting here with you reminded me of the way I used to sit with him when he was sick. We used to have such happy times, and it's so pleasant to think about them now.”
“He was awfully good, was n't he?”
“No, he was n't; but he tried to be, and mother says that is half the battle. We used to get tired of trying; but we kept making resolutions, and working hard to keep'em. I don't think I got on much; but Jimmy did, and every one loved him.”
“Did n't you ever squabble, as we do?”
“Yes, indeed, sometimes; but we could n't stay mad, and always made it up again as soon as we could. Jimmy used to come round first, and say, 'All serene, Polly,' so kind and jolly, that I could n't help laughing and being friends right away.”
“Did he not know a lot?”
“Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, so he could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I felt so proud to hear it; but they did n't know half how wise he was, because he did n't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grand of their brothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much right to be as I had.”
“Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that shows you don't know much about it.”
“Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys were as kind to them as Jimmy was to me.”