Margaret Sidney

“ PRHONSIE HELPS POLLY.
When she got back with a very red face, she found Phronsie, who had crawled out of bed, sitting down on the floor in her little nightgown and examining the boot with profound interest.
“I can sew 'em, Polly,” she said, holding up her hand for the big needle that Polly was trying to thread—“I can now truly; let me, Polly, do!”
“Dear no!” said Polly with a little laugh, beginning to be very much ashamed. “What could you do with your little mites of hands pulling this big thread through that old leather? There, scamper into bed again; you'll catch cold out here. ”

“ Of all things in the world that tried Polly's patience most were the troublesome little black buttons that originally adorned those useful parts of her clothing, and that were fondly supposed to be there when needed. But they never were. The little black things seemed to be invested with a special spite, for one by one they would hop off on the slightest provocation, and go rolling over the floor, just when she was in her most terrible hurry, compelling her to fly for needle and thread on the instant. ”

“ Now, says I, for the sails.” And she began to flap out a long white piece of cotton cloth on the table to trim into just the desired shape.
“That isn't the way,” said Percy, crowding up, the brightness that had flashed over his face at Polly's appearance beginning to fade. “Hoh! those won't be good for anything—those ain't sails.”
“I haven't finished,” said Polly, snipping away vigorously, and longing to get back to mamsie. “Wait till they're done; then they'll be good—as good as can be!” ”