said Polly, faintly.

"Who's this boy?" asked the lady, turning around squarely on Joel, and
eying him from head to foot.

"He's my brother Joel," said Polly.

Joel still stared.

"Which brother?" pursued Miss Jerusha, like a census-taker.

"He is next to me," said Polly, wishing her mother was home; "he's nine,
Joel is."

"He's big enough to do something to help his mother," said Miss
Jerusha, looking him through and through. "Don't you think you might do
something, when the others are sick, and your poor mother is working so
hard?" she continued, in a cold voice.

"I do something," blurted out Joel, sturdily, "lots and lots!"

"You shouldn't say 'lots," reproved Miss Jerusha, with a sharp look over
her spectacles, "tisn't proper for boys to talk so; what do you do all
day long?" she asked, turning back to Polly, after a withering glance at
Joel, who still stared.

"I can't do anything, ma'am," replied Polly, sadly, "I can't see to do
anything."

"Well, you might knit, I should think," said her visitor, "it's dreadful
for a girl as big as you are to sit all day idle; I had sore eyes once
when I was a little girl--how old are you?" she asked, abruptly.

"Eleven last month," said Polly.

"Well, I wasn't only nine when I knit a stocking; and I had sore eyes,
too; you see I was a very little girl, and--"

"Was you ever little?" interrupted Joel, in extreme incredulity, drawing
near, and looking over the big square figure.

"Hey?" said Miss Jerusha; so Joel repeated his question before Polly
could stop him.

"Of course," answered Miss Jerusha; and then she added, tartly, "little
boys shouldn't speak unless they're spoken to. Now," and she turned back
to Polly again, "didn't you ever knit a stocking?"

"No, ma'am," said Polly, "not a whole one."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha; "did I ever!" And she raised her
black mitts in intense disdain. "A big girl like you never to knit a
stocking! to think your mother should bring you up so! and--"

"She didn't bring us up," screamed Joel, in indignation, facing her with
blazing eyes.

"Joel," said Polly, "be still."

"And you're very impertinent, too," said Miss Jerusha; "a good child
never is impertinent."

Polly sat quite still; and Miss Jerusha continued:

"Now, I hope you will learn to be industrious; and when I come again, I
will see what you have done."

"You aren't ever coming again," said Joel, defiantly; "no, never!"

"Joel!" implored Poll