"
"It 's the genius that gets into the books, which makes us like the
poverty, I fancy. But I don't quite agree that the real thing is n't
interesting. I think it would be, if we knew how to look at and feel
it," said Polly, very quietly, as she pushed her chair out of the
arctic circle of Miss Perkins, into the temperate one of friendly
Emma.
"But how shall we learn that? I don't see what we girls can do,
more than we do now. We have n't much money for such things,
should n't know how to use it if we had; and it is n't proper for us
to go poking into dirty places, to hunt up the needy. 'Going about
doing good, in pony phaetons,' as somebody says, may succeed in
England, but it won't work here," said Fanny, who had begun,
lately, to think a good deal of some one beside herself, and so
found her interest in her fellow-beings increasing daily.
"We can't do much, perhaps, just yet; but still there are things left
undone that naturally fall to us. I know a house," said Polly,
sewing busily as she talked, "where every servant who enters it
becomes an object of interest to the mistress and her daughters.
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