"I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write
much," Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
"I will write for you," the pastor volunteered, understanding her
plight.
"You will?" For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in
her eyes.
"Every day," Douglas promised solemnly.
"And you will show me how?"
"Indeed I will."
"How long am I in for?" she asked.
"The doctor can tell better about that when he comes."
"The doctor! So--it's as bad as that, eh?"
"Oh, that need not frighten you," Douglas answered consolingly.
"I ain't frightened," she bridled quickly; "I ain't never scared
of nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm
a-kickin'."
"Oh, they will get along all right," he said reassuringly.
"Get along?" Polly flashed with sudden resentment. "Get along
WITHOUT MY ACT!" It was apparent from her look of astonishment
that Douglas had completely lost whatever ground he had
heretofore gained in her respect. "Say, have you seen that
show?" She waited for his answer with pity and contempt.
"No," admitted John, weakly.
"Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like
that. I'm the whole thing in that push," she said with an air of
self- complacency; "and with me down and out, that show will be
on the bum for fair.
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