"
"Yes, yes; just so," said Miss Polly, who talked to the simplest
infants just as she did to grown people. "One of these days you will
look back, and see how happy you are now, and be sorry you didn't
prize your parents while you had them."
Flyaway rested her rosy cheek on Polly's knee, and watched the gray
knitting-work as it came out of the basket. She did not understand the
sad woman's words, but was attracted by her loving nature, and liked
to sit near her, a minute at a time, and have her hair stroked.
"There, now," said Dotty, "you are knitting, Miss Polly; and it's so
lonesome all round the house, with mother not coming till to-morrow,
that I should think you might tell--well, tell an anecdote."
"I don't know where to begin, or what to say," replied Polly, falling
into deep thought.
"I just believe she does sigh at the end of every needle," mused
Dotty; "I'm going to keep 'count. That's once."
"Please, Miss Polly, tell a _nanny-goat_," said Flyaway, dancing
around the room. "Please, Miss Polly, and I'll kiss you a pretty
little kiss.
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