However, I am only too glad to hear anything
which makes Polly's fault less, for I love her too dearly not to
suffer when I have to be severe with her.'
'She wouldn't ask you to overlook her fault,' continued Elsie, with
tears in her eyes. 'I know just how wretched and penitent she must
be--Polly is always so fierce against her own faults--but what must
be making her suffer most is the thought that she has entirely lost
your confidence and good opinion. Oh, I can't help thinking that God
feels sorrier this very minute for Polly, who fights and fights
against her temper, like a dear sunbeam trying to shine again and
again when a cloud keeps covering it up, than He does for Laura, who
has everything made smooth for her, and who is unhappy when her
feathers are ruffled the least bit.'
'You are right, dear, in so far that a fiery little soul like Polly's
can, if it finds the right channels, do God's work in the world
better than a character like Laura's, which is not courageous, nor
strong, nor sweet enough for great service, unless it grows into
better things through bitter or rich experiences. Now, good-night,
my blessed little peacemaker; sleep sweetly, for I am going into
Polly's tent to have a good talk with her.'
As Mrs. Winship dropped the curtains of Elsie's tent behind her, and
made her way quietly through the trees, the tinkling sound of a banjo
fell upon the still night air; and presently, as she neared Polly's
retreat, this facetious serenade, sung by Jack's well-known voice,
was wafted to her ears:
'Prithee, Polly Oliver, why bide ye so still?
Pretty Polly Oliver, we fear you are ill.
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