and hymn-book, and a lame pigeon that lit
on the window-sill to be fed every morning, Miss Polly would have found
her time go heavily.

One night Mrs. Marley came into the room with a cheerful face, and said
very loud, "Polly, I've got some news!" Polly knew by her speaking so
loud that she was in good-humour. When any thing discouraging had
happened, Becky spoke low, and then was likely to be irritated when
asked to repeat her remark.

"Dear heart!" said Mrs. Marley, "now I am glad you had something hot
for supper. I was turning over in my mind what we could cook up, for I
feel real hollow. It's a kind of chilly day." And she sat down by the
stove, while Polly hobbled to the table, with one hand to her ear to
catch the first sound of the good news, and the other holding some
baked potatoes in her apron. That hand was twisted with rheumatism,
for the disease ran in the family. She was afraid every day that she
should have to give up making the candy on the next; for it hurt her so
to use it. She was continually being harrowed by the idea of its
becoming quite useless, and that the candy might not be so good; and
then what would become of them? Becky Marley was often troubled by the
same thought. Yet they were almost always good-natured, poor old
women; and, though Polly Sharpe's pleasures and privileges were by far
the fewest of anybody's I ever knew, I think she was as glad in those
days to know the dandelions were in bloom as if she could see them; and
she got more good from the fragments of the Sunday-morning sermon that
sister Becky brought home than many a listener did from the whole
service.

The potatoes were done to a turn, Mrs. Marley shouted; and then Polly
sat down close by her to hear the news.

"You know I have been worrying about the cold weather a-coming, and my
rheumatics; and I was afeared to change my stand, on account of losing
custom. Well, to-day it all come over me to once that I might move
down a piece on Grant Place,--that new street that's cut through to St.
Mary. I've noticed for some time past that almost all my reg'lar
customers turns down that way, so this morning I thought I'd step down
that way too, and see if there was a chance. And after I gets into the
street I sees people stopping and looking at something as they went
along; and so I goes down to see; and it is one of them hothouses, full
of plants a-growing like it was mid-summer. It belongs to the big
Sydney house