4 Hard Days for Polly

CHAPTER 4 Hard Days for Polly Doctor Fisher arrived in the middle of the morning to see what was the matter with Polly's eyes. "Those eyes of yours have been used too much," the doctor said sharply. "What has Polly been doing?" he asked. "Everything," Mrs. Pepper answered. "Polly does everything."

"Well, not anymore. Her eyes are very bad," the doctor announced. "No! Don't make my Polly sick," Phronsie cried, throwing herself at the doctor's knees. Doctor Fisher gently untangled Phronsie from his legs and placed her back into the bed. "We're going to make Polly all well, little girl. She'll be able to see as good as new when we're done," Doctor Fisher assured her. "Really?" Phronsie asked tearfully.

"We'll try our hardest," Doctor Fisher said. "But you have to promise me you won't cry. If you cry, then Polly will cry—and that will be very bad for Polly's eyes. Very bad indeed!" he repeated. "I won't cry," Phronsie promised. "Not one bit!" She wiped off the last tear with her hand. Doctor Fisher put some cooling lotion on Polly's eyes. "Now you rest up, young lady, and your eyes will be fine," Doctor Fisher said before leaving the little brown house. "My eyes don't feel a single bit better," Polly complained to Mrs. Pepper. "And, there's so much work to do—" "You have to give it time, Polly," Mrs. Pepper said, taking up her sewing again. "Your poor eyes need rest. And that's that." Just then the kitchen door slammed, and moments later, Grandma Bascom stood at the

bedroom doorway. "Mercy me. What's happening here?" Grandma said, surprised to see Polly in bed in the middle of the day. "Measles. Polly's got them," Mrs. Pepper said. "Ben and Phronsie, too," she added. "Freezing? Polly's freezing?" Grandma squawked. With a sigh, Mrs. Pepper stood up and shouted the whole, sad story into Grandma Bascom's ear. "Well, I've got a recipe at home that can set everybody right," Grandma said, heading for the door. "Doc Fisher just left," Mrs. Pepper explained. "He put some lotion on Polly's eyes and said they must not be touched." "Well, then, maybe these treats will help," Grandma said. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small cloth sack. "What's that?" asked Joel. He eyed the little sack. Joel was always curious whenever anyone

mentioned treats. "Peppermints!" Joel cried when Grandma opened the bag. "You share those with the sick ones," Grandma gently scolded him. Joel handed out the peppermints to all the children, giving extra to Phronsie and Ben. "I don't want any," Polly told him, pushing the peppermints away. "Oh, Polly, you have to try one," Joel said, munching happily. Polly was too sad to answer. "I'll leave three on your pillow, Polly," Joel said. "You just take them whenever you want." Then Joel and Davie went outside to share the rest of the peppermints and stack the wood in the woodpile. Polly leaned back against the pillow. Who was going to help Mamsie now? How was all the work around the Little Brown House going to get done? Two big, fat tears rolled down her face.

Polly knew she wasn't supposed to cry, but she just couldn't help it. Later that day, a carriage stopped right in front of the Peppers' little brown gate. "It's the Hendersons!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper. Moments later, Mrs. Henderson was sitting beside Polly in the darkened bedroom. "Poor little thing," Mrs. Henderson said, stroking Polly's hair. "Oh, I don't care about my eyes. Only about helping Mamsie," Polly cried. "Now, don't you worry about that," Mrs. Henderson assured her. "You just worry about getting better, so you can see the little chicks you visited the other day. You wouldn't believe how big and fat they are!" "Oh, do tell me about them," Polly said, forgetting for a moment about the dreadful itching in her eyes. By the time the Hendersons left, somehow a basket of eggs, a sack of flour, a bowl of butter,