As Miss Mills spoke in her motherly tone, and cast a proud and happy
look toward the warm and quiet nest in which she had sheltered this
friendless little sparrow, feeling sure that God meant her to keep it
from falling to the ground, Polly put both arms about her neck, and
kissed her withered cheek with as much loving reverence as if she had
been a splendid saint, for in the likeness of this plain old maid she
saw the lovely charity that blesses and saves the world.

"How good you are! Dear Miss Mills, tell me what to do, let me help you,
I 'm ready for anything," said Polly, very humbly, for her own troubles
looked so small and foolish beside the stern hardships which had nearly
had so tragical an end, that she felt heartily ashamed of herself, and
quite burned to atone for them.

Miss, Mills stopped to stroke the fresh cheek opposite, to smile, and
say, "Then, Polly, I think I 'll ask you to go in and say a friendly
word to my little girl. The sight of you will do her good; and you have
just the right way of comforting people, without making a fuss."

"Have I?" said Polly, looking much gratified by the words.

"Yes, dear, you 've the gift of sympathy, and the rare art of showing it
without offending. I would n't let many girls in to see my poor Jenny,
because they 'd only flutter and worry her; but you 'll know what to do;
so go, and take this wrapper with you; it 's done now, thanks to your
nimble fingers."

Polly threw the warm garment over her arm, feeling a thrill of gratitude
that it was to wrap a living girl in, and not to hide away a young heart
that had grown cold too soon. Pushing open the door, she went quietly
into the dimly lighted room, and on the pillow saw a face that drew her
to it with an irresistible power, for it was touched by a solemn shadow
that made its youth pathetic. As she paused at the bedside, thinking the
girl asleep, a pair of hollow, dark eyes opened wide, and looked up at
her; startled at first, then softening with pleasure, at sight of the
bonny face before them, and then a humble, beseeching expression filled
them, as if asking pardon for the rash act nearly committed, and pity
for the hard fate that prompted it. Polly read the language of these
eyes, and answered their mute prayer with a simple eloquence that said
more than any words for she just stooped down and kissed the poor child,
with her own eyes full, and lips that trembled with the sympathy she
could not tell. Jenny p