Nancy colored hotly.

“Of course, ma’am; it was only that I thought a little girl here might—­might brighten things up for you,” she faltered.

“Thank you,” rejoined the lady, dryly.  “I can’t say, however, that I see any immediate need for that.”

“But, of course, you—­you’d want her, your sister’s child,” ventured Nancy, vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a welcome for this lonely little stranger.

Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily.

“Well, really, Nancy, just because I happened to have a sister who was silly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that was already quite full enough, I can’t see how I should particularly want to have the care of them myself.  However, as I said before, I hope I know my duty.  See that you clean the corners, Nancy,” she finished sharply, as she left the room.

“Yes, ma’am,” sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher—­now so cold it must be rinsed again.

In her own room, Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had received two days before from the far-away Western town, and which had been so unpleasant a surprise to her.  The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont; and it read as follows: 

“Dear Madam:—­I regret to inform you that the Rev. John Whittier died two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old.  He left practically nothing else save a few books; for, as you doubtless know, he was the pastor of this small mission church, and had a very meagre salary.

“I believe he was your deceased sister’s husband, but he gave me to understand the families were not on the best of terms.  He thought, however, that for your sister’s sake you might wish to take the child and bring her up among her own people in the East.  Hence I am writing to you.

“The little girl will be all ready to start by the time you get this letter; and if you can take her, we would appreciate it very much if you would write that she might come at once, as there is a man and his wife here who are going East very soon, and they would take her with them to Boston, and put her on the Beldingsville train.  Of course you would be notified what day and train to expect Pollyanna on.

“Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain,
“Respectfully yours,
“Jeremiah O. White.”

With a frown Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope.  She had answered it the day before, and she had said she would take the child, of course.  She hoped she knew her duty well enough for that!—­disagreeable as the task would be.