Creative Books

I helped take care of him; and he was
so patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain all
time. He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens,
and his big knife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the last
thing and then O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"
Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips trembling
more and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by,"
she could n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried as
her heart would break. Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't know
how to show it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and trying
to think of something proper and comfortable to say, when Fanny
came to the rescue, and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothing
little pats and whispers and kisses, till the tears stopped, and Polly
said, she "did n't mean to, and would n't any more. I 've been
thinking about my dear boy all the evening, for Tom reminds me
of him," she added, with a sigh.


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