It made me laugh, anyhow, ev'ry time I thought of it; an'
laughin' helps, ye know--it does, it does!"
"But why hasn't--she told me--the game?" faltered Miss Polly.
"Why has she made such a mystery of it, when I asked her?"
Nancy hesitated.
"Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, you told her not ter speak of--her
father; so she couldn't tell ye. 'Twas her father's game, ye
see."
Miss Polly bit her lip.
"She wanted ter tell ye, first off," continued Nancy, a little
unsteadily. "She wanted somebody ter play it with, ye know.
That's why I begun it, so she could have some one."
"And--and--these others?" Miss Polly's voice shook now.
"Oh, ev'rybody, 'most, knows it now, I guess. Anyhow, I should
think they did from the way I'm hearin' of it ev'rywhere I go. Of
course she told a lot, and they told the rest. Them things go, ye
know, when they gets started. An' she was always so smilin' an'
pleasant ter ev'ry one, an' so--so jest glad herself all the
time, that they couldn't help knowin' it, anyhow. Now, since
she's hurt, ev'rybody feels so bad--specially when they heard how
bad SHE feels 'cause she can't find anythin' ter be glad about.
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