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Updated: May 13, 2025
I fear that label told a fiction, but Pollie believed in it, and thought the eggs were laid by the identical hens she saw earning a scanty living by pecking in the gutters and among the cabs and carts; so with a feeling of being very womanly, and tightly grasping the precious shilling in her hand, she took courage to approach the shopkeeper, who stood with arms akimbo in the doorway, flanked on one side by potatoes in bins, and on the other by cabbages and turnips in huge baskets.
Never before had she heard the glad tidings of great joy, and her heart was filled with unexpressed thankfulness and peace. When class was over, the little scholars went their way to church, happy Pollie with her friend's hand still clasped in hers; and the bells rang out their peaceful chime, "It is the Sabbath! it is the Sabbath!"
Altogether she looked quite neat and respectable. "Good morning," cried Pollie, joyously glad to see her kind friend. "Where are you going?" Sally hesitated "May I come with you?" she stammered bashfully. For the moment little Pollie could not reply; she felt too happy to speak.
"Well, if I don't get something, mother will want me to eat this meat, and I mean her to have it all; so I'll buy two little pies in Russell Court, one for me, and one for poor little crippled Jimmy." "You're a good gal," exclaimed the woman. "Here, put these taters in your basket; maybe your mother would like 'em with the meat, they boil nice and mealy." Pollie was so grateful to Mrs.
Pollie had the cosmic urge, that is all, and the marooned sea-captain had in him a little just a little of the salt of the sea. Fate is a trickster. Her game is based upon false pretenses she should be forbidden the mails. She sacrifices individuals by the thousand, for the good of the race. All she cares for is to perpetuate the kind.
"Now, then, tell me yer pretty hymn," said Sally, when at last they had exhausted their stock of fun, and putting her arm around her little friend's neck, they cuddled up lovingly together the gentle little Pollie, and sturdy, rugged Sally. Then the child repeated to her listening companion "Abide with me! fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide," &c.
Occasionally there would toddle a child with jug or pail, and then the crooked little storekeeper would come forward and work the pump-handle. Among others came Pollie Lumm plump, pretty, pink and sixteen. Girard pumped for her, too. He got into the habit of pumping for her. If he was busy, she would wait. Pollie Lumm was a sort of cousin to Sallie Lunn. Neither had intellect to speak of.
Meanwhile Pollie, assisted by her faithful friend, was busy getting the tea ready, thinking it would refresh their strange visitor; and whilst Sally cut some bread-and-butter the child arranged her violets in a cup, to make, as she said, "the table look pretty."
It was the only outward semblance of mourning she could get, but her heart sorrowed sincerely for the crippled boy whom she had seen for many years, desolate and uncared for, crouching in the dingy doorway desolate until little Pollie found him there, and shed some brightness around his hitherto lonely life; and another thing, he was a sort of link between her and Pollie.
"There ain't nobody at home, Pollie," he said; "yer mother has gone to help Lizzie Stevens carry to the shop a real heap of work." "I daresay Mrs. Flanagan is in her room," said the child. "No, she ain't neither," replied Jimmy, "for I see'd her go out to the market; I know, 'cos she took her great basket with her."
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