“We miss the piano very much,” said Maud, when the story was finished, and Paul was looking as deeply interested as could possibly be expected. “It used to be so nice to hear Miss Polly singing when we were going to sleep.” “I’m afraid Miss Polly misses it very much, too,” said Daisy, sadly. “She doesn’t say anything about it, but her eyes have such a sorrowful look in them, and she doesn’t laugh nearly as often as she did before.” “I’d like to go and see her,” said Paul. “I’ll sing to her if she wants me to.” “Why, Paul, we didn’t know you could sing,” cried Dulcie, in surprise. “We never heard you.” Paul blushed. “I hate doing it generally,” he confessed. “Mother makes me sometimes, to show off, you know, and I’m going to be in the choir next year. I don’t mind singing for that lady if you think she’d like to have me. I know some French songs, and ‘The Holy City,’ and ’most all the songs in ‘Pinafore.’ I can say a lot of poetry, too.” “Let’s go to see Miss Polly right away, and take Paul with us,” urged Molly, eagerly. “It will be much more fun than having a make-believe party, won’t it, Dulcie? And we can take her some of this lovely fruit. We’ve been wanting to give her a present ever since the first time we went, but we never had anything to take before.” CHAPTER XI PAUL ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY Miss Polly was in her wheel-chair, which she had drawn as close as possible to the register, for the day was cold, and only a small amount of furnace heat reached the top floor. She had evidently been reading, but the book had fallen into her lap, and lay there neglected, while the little cripple gazed straight before her, with a sad, far-away look in her eyes. Miss Polly was certainly thinner and paler than on that Sunday when Molly had made her first visit, but when, at the sound of a knock at her door, she turned to greet her little neighbors, her smile was as bright and her voice as cheerful as ever. “My dear children,” she cried joyfully, “how glad I am to see you. And you’ve brought your visitor, too. How do you do, Paul? You see I know your name. These little friends of mine have told me a great deal about you. It was kind of you to come to see me.” Paul stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’ll sing for you if you’d like to have me,” he announced abruptly. “I don’t like doing it generally, but I don’t mind this time. Dulcie says you like music.” Miss Polly beamed. “I do indeed,” she said, heartily. “I should love to hear you sing. It was dear of you to think of offering.” “Do you like hand-organs?” inquired Paul, gravely. “There was a very nice one playing in front of our house this morning. It played six tunes, and there was a monkey. I threw out five cents, and the monkey took off his hat. If you give an organ-man five cents, he’ll generally play for quite a long time.”