Chip carefully brushed a fly off Polly's flank with the whip.
And whether she died, or whether she got well and forgot Polly, none of us ever heard.
Life in general seems to have treated Polly in somewhat the same way.
It was little to give out of a full and happy day; but Polly had nothing.
There I found Polly, who had an air of calling everything in the house her own.