She was always being glad about something; and then, one day, she told us why, and about the game, you know; and tried to coax us to play it.
"Well, we've heard now that she's fretting her poor little life out of her, because she can't play it no more--that there's nothing to be glad about.

And that's what I came to tell her to-day--that maybe she can be a little glad for us, 'cause we've decided to stick to each other, and play the game ourselves.

I knew she would be glad, because she used to feel kind of bad--at things we said, sometimes.

Just how the game is going to help us, I can't say that I exactly see, yet; but maybe 'twill.
Anyhow, we're going to try--'cause she wanted us to.

Will you tell her ?" "Yes, I will tell her," promised Miss Polly, a little faintly.