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Updated: June 13, 2025
Time was too precious to be wasted, so the widow continued her work, and the light from the one candle being centred to the spot where she sat, the entry was consequently dark; but on looking up with a smile of greeting, expecting only to see Pollie, she was surprised to see her hesitate on the threshold, apparently clutching some one tightly by the dress: but directly she saw her mother, she seemed to feel she might let go her hold, her charge was safe; so running in, she threw her arms around her neck and whispered
"I sometimes think even He forgets me," moaned the poor girl, "when I see rich folks having all things they desire, and such as me almost starving, working night and day for a mere crust." "I once said so to mother," remarked the child, "but she opened our Bible, and bade me read a verse she pointed out. Shall I tell you what it was?" "Yes," was the reply. Pollie folded her hands, and repeated
Here, give it to me; I'll go and get you one pound of nice pieces at my brother's next door, if you'll just mind the shop till I come back; you can be trusted, I see," replied the mistress of the place, whose woman's heart was touched by the little girl's distress. Pollie stood where she was left, guarding the baskets with watchful eyes.
Her head was bowed; they could not see her face, but her hands were very trembling as she clasped them together as if in silent prayer. Pollie broke the silence. "Nora, dearie," she half whispered, "I wish we could get in the other beautiful words, 'Glory to God in the highest, because it is He who gives us this sweet peace, and I should so like to thank Him."
"Please, ma'am," said Pollie, "will you let me have a new-laid egg for mother?" The woman took an egg from a basket and gave it to her. "If you please, is it quite fresh? because mother is so poorly, and I want it to do her good." The shopkeeper looked at the earnest little face, and somehow felt she could not tell an untruth to the child, the brown eyes were raised so trustingly.
Venus played a trick on you didn't she, and on herself, too, the jade! Pollie became stout enormously stout the pearl-like pink of her cheek now looked like burnt sienna, mixed with chrome yellow. She used to sit all day in front of the store, looking at the pump. She ceased to hear the pump; she did not even hear its creak, which she once thought musical. Her husband sent for a doctor.
Pollie did not reply, but pursed up her lips with a look of supreme importance as she placed her basket on the table, and proceeded to take out its contents. "There, mother dearie," she exclaimed with delight as she displayed the meat; "that's for you. You must eat every tiny bit of it, so let us try some directly. See, dear Mrs Flanagan, I bought these water-cresses for you.
Pollie Lumm, the bride of a day, was frightened there alone with a one-eyed man, when the rats went scurrying through the hold. She wasn't pink now; her color had turned to ashy yellow and her heart to ashes of roses. Girard could face the wind of the North, but a crying woman on a ship at anchor, whose rusty chains groaned to the dismal screech of tugging cordage, undid him.
As Pollie reached her mother's door at last, after all this amount of shopping had been accomplished, she heard a well-known voice inside, and knew that Mrs. Flanagan had returned from work, and was now having her usual little chat with Mrs. Turner. Good Mrs.
Pollie tapped at her mother's door, and then peeped merrily in. There sat that good and gentle woman, busily working close by the narrow window, so as to get as much light as possible for her delicate needlework.
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