s voice was very stern now--"when I'm talking to
you, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I have to say."

Nancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher down at once, with the
cloth still about it, thereby nearly tipping it over--which did not add
to her composure.

"Yes, ma'am; I will, ma'am," she stammered, righting the pitcher,
and turning hastily. "I was only keepin' on with my work 'cause you
specially told me this mornin' ter hurry with my dishes, ye know."

Her mistress frowned.

"That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your
attention."

"Yes, ma'am." Nancy stifled a sigh. She was wondering if ever in any way
she could please this woman. Nancy had never "worked out" before; but
a sick mother suddenly widowed and left with three younger children
besides Nancy herself, had forced the girl into doing something toward
their support, and she had been so pleased when she found a place in
the kitchen of the great house on the hill--Nancy had come from "The
Corners," six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as
the mistress of the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest
residents of the town. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly
now as a stern, severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to
the floor, or if a door banged--but who never thought to smile even when
knives and doors were still.

"When you've finished your morning work, Nancy," Miss Polly was saying
now, "you may clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the
attic, and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room and clean it, of course,
after you clear out the trunks and boxes."

"Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out?"

"In the front attic." Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: "I suppose I
may as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, is
coming to live with me. She is eleven years old, and will sleep in that
room."

"A little girl--coming here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won't that be nice!"
cried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made in the
home at "The Corners."

"Nice? Well, that isn't exactly the word I should use," rejoined Miss
Polly, stiffly. "However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I
am a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty."

Nancy colored hotly.

"Of course, ma'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here
might--might brighten things up for you," she faltered.