“I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write much,” Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
“I will write for you,” the pastor volunteered, understanding her plight.
“You will?” For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in her eyes.
“Every day,” Douglas promised solemnly.
“And you will show me how?”
“Indeed I will.”
“How long am I in for?” she asked.
“The doctor can tell better about that when he comes.”
“The doctor! So—it's as bad as that, eh?”
“Oh, that need not frighten you,” Douglas answered consolingly.