aid she to herself; "but I didn't
s'pose it would be Katie. O, Katie, Katie Clifford! you're the
cunningist child. We can't have you die!"

"Somebody leave me alone," moaned Katie; "and 'twas you'n the Polly
woman. I don't love anybody in this world!"

"Darling! I didn't mean to," said Dotty, "now honest. Polly said, 'O,
dear! she was going to die'; but I might have known she wouldn't. She
told a wrong story--I mean she made a mistake."

"You was naughty," said Katie, "velly naughty; but you didn't mean to."

"No, Katie; 'twas Polly that was naughty."

"The krilt got off o' me," said Katie, picking at the tufted coverlet;
"and then I was sick."

"Miss Polly said it was the strawberries, darling; and the cream poured
over them so thick."

"And getting into the watering-trough," added Dotty to herself,
uneasily.

"Yes," sighed Katie: "'twas the stawbollies. Did _I_ ask for the
stawbollies? No, but the Polly woman gave 'em to me. Didn't want 'em; I
wanted to be well."

After two weary hours, which seemed as long as days almost, poor little
Katie was easier, and fell asleep. Dotty, who had taken several naps in
her chair, would now have gone to bed again; but Miss Polly was dressed,
and said she could not close her eyes if she tried; she meant to go down
stairs to her knitting. Dotty was afraid to stay alone. She was always a
little timid, and to-night her nerves had been considerably tried. The
lamp cast frightful shadows, and the newly-risen moon shone through the
white curtains with ghostly light. She could "preach" to Jennie Vance
about God's "holding the whole world in his arms;" but she could not
always remember it herself. She put on a white wrapper of Susy's, and,
looking like a wimpled nun, followed Polly down stairs. If she thought
of wee Katie at all, she thought there were good angels in the room to
guard her; but she could not trust _herself_ with them; she would rather
keep close to Polly.

"I think," whispered Polly, unlocking the back door and looking out at
the sky, "it must be very near morning; but the clocks have both run
down, and I can only guess at the time by my feelings."

Then Polly made a brisk fire in the stove, and set the tea-kettle to
humming.

"Now I will get the milk-pail," said she, "and you may put on the
tea-pot. I am faint for want of something to drink."

It was one of Polly's peculiarities that she always talked to children
as if they had as much judgment as grown peop