cover
a right motherly heart, that the fretful face under the nodding purple
plumes was not a tender motherly face, and that the hands in the
delicate primrose gloves had put away something very sweet and precious.
She thought of another woman, whose dress never was too fine for little
wet cheeks to lie against, or loving little arms to press; whose face,
in spite of many lines and the gray hairs above it, was never sour or
unsympathetic when children's eyes turned towards it; and whose hands
never were too busy, too full or too nice to welcome and serve the
little sons and daughters who freely brought their small hopes and
fears, sins and sorrows, to her, who dealt out justice and mercy with
such wise love. "Ah, that 's a mother!" thought Polly, as the memory
came warm into her heart, making her feel very rich, and pity Maud for
being so poor.

This it was that caused such sudden indignation at Fanny's dreadful
speech, and this it was that made quick-tempered Polly try to calm her
wrath before she used toward Fanny's mother the disrespectful tone she
so resented toward her own. As the swing came down after some dozen
quick journeys to and fro, Polly seemed to have found a smile somewhere
up aloft, for she looked toward Fan, saying pleasantly, as she paused
a little in her airy exercise, "I 'm not mad now, shall I come and toss
with you?"

"No, I 'll come and swing with you," answered Fanny, quick to feel the
generous spirit of her friend.

"You are an angel, and I 'll never be so rude again," she added, as
Polly's arm came round her, and half the seat was gladly offered.

"No, I ain't; but if I ever get at all like one, it will be 'mother's
preaching' that did it," said Polly, with a happy laugh.

"Good for you, Polly Peacemaker," cried Tom, quoting his father, and
giving them a grand push as the most appropriate way of expressing his
approbation of the sentiment.

Nothing more was said; but from that day there slowly crept into the
family more respect for grandma, more forbearance with her infirmities,
more interest in her little stories, and many a pleasant gossip did the
dear old lady enjoy with the children as they gathered round her fire,
solitary so long.

CHAPTER VII. GOOD-BY

"OH, dear! Must you really go home Saturday?" said Fan, some days after
what Tom called the "grand scrimmage."

"I really must; for I only came to stay a month and here I 've been
nearly six weeks," answered Polly, fee