"Didn't you ever squabble, as we do?"
"Yes, indeed, sometimes; but we couldn't stay mad, and always made it up again as soon as we could. Jimmy used to come round first, and say, 'All serene, Polly,' so kind and jolly, that I couldn't help laughing and being friends right away."
"Did he know a lot?"
"Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, so he could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I felt so proud to hear it; but they didn't know half how wise he was, because he didn't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grand of their brothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much right to be as I had."
"Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that shows you don't know much about it."
"Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys were as kind to them as Jimmy was to me."
"Why, what did he do?"
"Loved me dearly, and wasn't ashamed to show it," cried Polly, with a sob in her voice, that made her answer very eloquent.
"What made him die, Polly?" asked Tom, soberly, after a little pause.
"He got hurt coasting, last winter; but he never told which boy did it, and he only lived a week. I helped take care of him; and he was so patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain all the time. He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens, and his big knife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,'—and kissed me the last thing—and then—O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"
