you'd gone halfway. And Mamsie wouldn't like it. Do go back
and lie down again on the bed."

"Oh, I can't," said little David, shrugging his shoulders, "it's
all alone in there, Polly."

"Well, I can't leave my sewing, and you must have it dark, or
else you won't go to sleep. Do try, Davie, that's a good boy."

But little Davie still shrugged his shoulders, and wouldn't even
look at the bedroom door, but kept his back toward it.

"Dear me, Phronsie," cried Polly, in despair. "Now, if you'd go
in and lie down by his side and hold his hand, maybe he'd go to
sleep. He's half sick, and I don't want Mamsie to come home and
find him so."

"I've got to sew, Polly," said Phronsie, with an important air,
and holding up her mangy bit of calico, where all but one corner
was in a pucker, "so I must stay right here and finish it. Truly,
I must, Polly."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, quickly, "then I don't know what
is to be done. And Mamsie will come home, and then what will she
say?" with another worried glance at David's flushed cheeks.

Phronsie drew a long breath and set another crooked stitch.
"I'll go, Polly," at last she said, with a long sigh, putting the
puckered calico bit, with the needle hanging, carefully on the
floor by her side. Then she got slowly out of her little wooden chair.