"No, Fly--how silly of you to take such an idea into your head. Fly, dear, stop crying at once--you know you have all been naughty, and Polly has hurt Aunt Maria, and hurt me, too. You none of you knew Aunt Maria was coming, but I did not think you would play such a trick on me, and when father was away, too." "It wasn't Polly's fault," said Firefly, eagerly. "She was tempted, and we were the tempters. We all came round her, and we did coax, so hard, and Polly gave way, 'cause she wanted to make us happy. She's a darling, the dearest darling in all the world, and if Aunt Maria hurts her and she dies, I--I----" The little face worked in a paroxysm of grief and agony. "Don't, Fly," said Helen. "You are much too tired and excited for me to talk calmly to you to-night. You have been naughty, darling, and so has Polly, and real naughtiness is always punished, always, somehow or another. But you need not be afraid that any real harm will happen to Polly. I am going to her in a moment or two, so you need not be in the least anxious. Now fold your hands, Fly, and say 'Our Father.' Say it slowly after me." Firefly's sobs had become much less. She now lay quiet, her little chest still heaving, but with her eyes open, and fixed with a pathetic longing on Helen's face. "You're nearly as good as mother," she said. "And I love you. But Polly always, always must come first. Nell, I'll say 'Our Father,' only not the part about forgiving, for I can't forgive Aunt Maria." "My dear child, you are talking in a very silly way. Aunt Maria has done nothing but her duty, nothing to make you really angry with her. Now, Fly, it is late, and Polly wants me. Say those dear words, for mother's sake." There was no child at Sleepy Hollow who would not have done anything for mother's sake, so the prayer was whispered with some fresh gasps of pain and contrition, and before Helen left the room, little Lucy's pretty dark eyes were closed, and her small, sallow, excitable face was tranquil. CHAPTER XVI. DR. MAYBRIGHT _versus_ SCORPION. Dr. Maybright returned to his home on Monday evening in tolerably good spirits. He had gone up to London about a money matter which caused him some anxiety; his fears were, for the present at least, quite lulled to rest, and he had taken the opportunity of consulting one of the greatest oculists of the day with regard to his eyesight. The verdict was more hopeful than the good Doctor had dared to expect. With care, total blindness might be altogether avoided; at the worst it would not come for some time. A certain regimen was recommended, overwork was forbidden, all great anxiety was to be avoided, and then, and then--Well, at least the blessed light of day might be enjoyed by the Doctor for years to come. "But you must not overwork," said the oculist, "and you must not worry. You must read very little, and you must avoid chills; for should a cold attack your eyes now the consequences would be serious."