“It is mine,” said Polly, snuggling up to the sofa-blankets.
Mrs. Sterling put out her thin hand, and took Polly's rosy palm. “Now begin, dear,” she said, with an air of content, and looking down into the bright face.
So Polly, realizing that here perhaps was need for help, quite as much as in the poor brakeman's home, though in a different way, told the whole story, how the two clubs, the Salisbury School Club and the boys' club, had joined together to help Jim Corcoran's children; how they had had a big meeting at Jasper's house, and promised each other to take hold faithfully and work for that object.
“We were going to have a little play,” observed Polly, a bit sorrowfully, “but it was thought best not, so it will be recitations and music.”
“Those will be very nice, I am quite sure, Polly,” said Mrs. Sterling; “how I should love to hear some of them!” It was her turn to look sad now.
“Why—” Polly sat up quite straight now, and her cheeks turned rosy.
“What is it, my child?” asked Mrs. Sterling.
“Would you—I mean, do you want—oh, Mrs. Sterling, would you like us to come here some time to recite something to you?”
Mrs. Sterling turned an eager face on her pillow.
“Are you sure, Polly,” a light coming into her tired eyes, “that you young people would be willing to come to entertain a dull, sick, old woman?”