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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:11 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:11 -0700 |
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diff --git a/1450-h/1450-h.htm b/1450-h/1450-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..59a42d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1450-h/1450-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9564 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Pollyanna, by Eleanor H. Porter + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1450 ***</div> + + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + POLLYANNA + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Eleanor H. Porter + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4> + Author of “Miss Billy,” “Miss Billy's Decision,"<br /> “Cross Currents,” + “The Turn of the Tides,” etc. + </h4> + <h5> + TO<br /><br /> My Cousin Belle + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>POLLYANNA</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> MISS POLLY <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> OLD TOM AND NANCY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + COMING OF POLLYANNA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + LITTLE ATTIC ROOM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + GAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> A + QUESTION OF DUTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> POLLYANNA + AND PUNISHMENTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> POLLYANNA + PAYS A VISIT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> WHICH + TELLS OF THE MAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> A + SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. + </a> INTRODUCING JIMMY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> + CHAPTER XII. </a> BEFORE THE LADIES' AID <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> IN PENDLETON WOODS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> JUST A + MATTER OF JELLY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> DR. + CHILTON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> A + RED ROSE AND A LACE SHAWL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> "JUST LIKE A BOOK” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> PRISMS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> WHICH IS SOMEWHAT + SURPRISING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> WHICH + IS MORE SURPRISING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> A + QUESTION ANSWERED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> SERMONS + AND WOODBOXES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> AN + ACCIDENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> JOHN + PENDLETON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> A + WAITING GAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> A + DOOR AJAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> TWO + VISITS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> THE + GAME AND ITS PLAYERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. + </a> THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> + CHAPTER XXX. </a> JIMMY TAKES THE HELM <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> A NEW UNCLE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> WHICH IS A + LETTER FROM POLLYANNA <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + POLLYANNA + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. MISS POLLY + </h2> + <p> + Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June + morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she specially + prided herself on her repose of manner. But to-day she was hurrying—actually + hurrying. + </p> + <p> + Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise. Nancy had been + working in Miss Polly's kitchen only two months, but already she knew that + her mistress did not usually hurry. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued wiping + the pitcher in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,”—Miss Polly's voice was very stern now—“when I'm + talking to you, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I have to + say.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher down at once, with the cloth + still about it, thereby nearly tipping it over—which did not add to + her composure. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am; I will, ma'am,” she stammered, righting the pitcher, and + turning hastily. “I was only keepin' on with my work 'cause you specially + told me this mornin' ter hurry with my dishes, ye know.” + </p> + <p> + Her mistress frowned. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your + attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” Nancy stifled a sigh. She was wondering if ever in any way + she could please this woman. Nancy had never “worked out” before; but a + sick mother suddenly widowed and left with three younger children besides + Nancy herself, had forced the girl into doing something toward their + support, and she had been so pleased when she found a place in the kitchen + of the great house on the hill—Nancy had come from “The Corners,” + six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as the mistress of + the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest residents of the + town. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly now as a stern, + severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to the floor, or if a + door banged—but who never thought to smile even when knives and + doors were still. + </p> + <p> + “When you've finished your morning work, Nancy,” Miss Polly was saying + now, “you may clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the + attic, and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room and clean it, of course, + after you clear out the trunks and boxes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out?” + </p> + <p> + “In the front attic.” Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: “I suppose I may + as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, is coming + to live with me. She is eleven years old, and will sleep in that room.” + </p> + <p> + “A little girl—coming here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won't that be + nice!” cried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made + in the home at “The Corners.” + </p> + <p> + “Nice? Well, that isn't exactly the word I should use,” rejoined Miss + Polly, stiffly. “However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I am + a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy colored hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, ma'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here might—might + brighten things up for you,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” rejoined the lady, dryly. “I can't say, however, that I see + any immediate need for that.” + </p> + <p> + “But, of course, you—you'd want her, your sister's child,” ventured + Nancy, vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a welcome for this + lonely little stranger. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, really, Nancy, just because I happened to have a sister who was + silly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that was + already quite full enough, I can't see how I should particularly WANT to + have the care of them myself. However, as I said before, I hope I know my + duty. See that you clean the corners, Nancy,” she finished sharply, as she + left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher—now so + cold it must be rinsed again. + </p> + <p> + In her own room, Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had + received two days before from the far-away Western town, and which had + been so unpleasant a surprise to her. The letter was addressed to Miss + Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont; and it read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Madam:—I regret to inform you that the Rev. John Whittier died + two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old. He left + practically nothing else save a few books; for, as you doubtless know, he + was the pastor of this small mission church, and had a very meagre salary. + </p> + <p> + “I believe he was your deceased sister's husband, but he gave me to + understand the families were not on the best of terms. He thought, + however, that for your sister's sake you might wish to take the child and + bring her up among her own people in the East. Hence I am writing to you. + </p> + <p> + “The little girl will be all ready to start by the time you get this + letter; and if you can take her, we would appreciate it very much if you + would write that she might come at once, as there is a man and his wife + here who are going East very soon, and they would take her with them to + Boston, and put her on the Beldingsville train. Of course you would be + notified what day and train to expect Pollyanna on. + </p> + <p> + “Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain, + </p> + <p> + “Respectfully yours, + </p> + <p> + “Jeremiah O. White.” + </p> + <p> + With a frown Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. + She had answered it the day before, and she had said she would take the + child, of course. She HOPED she knew her duty well enough for that!—disagreeable + as the task would be. + </p> + <p> + As she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her thoughts went back to + her sister, Jennie, who had been this child's mother, and to the time when + Jennie, as a girl of twenty, had insisted upon marrying the young + minister, in spite of her family's remonstrances. There had been a man of + wealth who had wanted her—and the family had much preferred him to + the minister; but Jennie had not. The man of wealth had more years, as + well as more money, to his credit, while the minister had only a young + head full of youth's ideals and enthusiasm, and a heart full of love. + Jennie had preferred these—quite naturally, perhaps; so she had + married the minister, and had gone south with him as a home missionary's + wife. + </p> + <p> + The break had come then. Miss Polly remembered it well, though she had + been but a girl of fifteen, the youngest, at the time. The family had had + little more to do with the missionary's wife. To be sure, Jennie herself + had written, for a time, and had named her last baby “Pollyanna” for her + two sisters, Polly and Anna—the other babies had all died. This had + been the last time that Jennie had written; and in a few years there had + come the news of her death, told in a short, but heart-broken little note + from the minister himself, dated at a little town in the West. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, time had not stood still for the occupants of the great house + on the hill. Miss Polly, looking out at the far-reaching valley below, + thought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her. + </p> + <p> + She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. Father, mother, sisters—all + were dead. For years, now, she had been sole mistress of the house and of + the thousands left her by her father. There were people who had openly + pitied her lonely life, and who had urged her to have some friend or + companion to live with her; but she had not welcomed either their sympathy + or their advice. She was not lonely, she said. She liked being by herself. + She preferred quiet. But now— + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely-shut lips. She was glad, of + course, that she was a good woman, and that she not only knew her duty, + but had sufficient strength of character to perform it. But—POLLYANNA!—what + a ridiculous name! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. OLD TOM AND NANCY + </h2> + <p> + In the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed vigorously, paying + particular attention to the corners. There were times, indeed, when the + vigor she put into her work was more of a relief to her feelings than it + was an ardor to efface dirt—Nancy, in spite of her frightened + submission to her mistress, was no saint. + </p> + <p> + “I—just—wish—I could—dig—out the corners—of—her—soul!” + she muttered jerkily, punctuating her words with murderous jabs of her + pointed cleaning-stick. “There's plenty of 'em needs cleanin' all right, + all right! The idea of stickin' that blessed child 'way off up here in + this hot little room—with no fire in the winter, too, and all this + big house ter pick and choose from! Unnecessary children, indeed! Humph!” + snapped Nancy, wringing her rag so hard her fingers ached from the strain; + “I guess it ain't CHILDREN what is MOST unnecessary just now, just now!” + </p> + <p> + For some time she worked in silence; then, her task finished, she looked + about the bare little room in plain disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's done—my part, anyhow,” she sighed. “There ain't no dirt + here—and there's mighty little else. Poor little soul!—a + pretty place this is ter put a homesick, lonesome child into!” she + finished, going out and closing the door with a bang, “Oh!” she + ejaculated, biting her lip. Then, doggedly: “Well, I don't care. I hope + she did hear the bang,—I do, I do!” + </p> + <p> + In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to + interview Old Tom, who had pulled the weeds and shovelled the paths about + the place for uncounted years. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tom,” began Nancy, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to make + sure she was unobserved; “did you know a little girl was comin' here ter + live with Miss Polly?” + </p> + <p> + “A—what?” demanded the old man, straightening his bent back with + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “A little girl—to live with Miss Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with yer jokin',” scoffed unbelieving Tom. “Why don't ye tell me + the sun is a-goin' ter set in the east ter-morrer?” + </p> + <p> + “But it's true. She told me so herself,” maintained Nancy. “It's her + niece; and she's eleven years old.” + </p> + <p> + The man's jaw fell. + </p> + <p> + “Sho!—I wonder, now,” he muttered; then a tender light came into his + faded eyes. “It ain't—but it must be—Miss Jennie's little gal! + There wasn't none of the rest of 'em married. Why, Nancy, it must be Miss + Jennie's little gal. Glory be ter praise! ter think of my old eyes + a-seein' this!” + </p> + <p> + “Who was Miss Jennie?” + </p> + <p> + “She was an angel straight out of Heaven,” breathed the man, fervently; + “but the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter. She was + twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her babies + all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be the one what's + a-comin'.” + </p> + <p> + “She's eleven years old.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she might be,” nodded the old man. + </p> + <p> + “And she's goin' ter sleep in the attic—more shame ter HER!” scolded + Nancy, with another glance over her shoulder toward the house behind her. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom frowned. The next moment a curious smile curved his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a-wonderin' what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, I'm a-wonderin' what a child will do with Miss Polly in the + house!” snapped Nancy. + </p> + <p> + The old man laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you ain't fond of Miss Polly,” he grinned. + </p> + <p> + “As if ever anybody could be fond of her!” scorned Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began to work again. + </p> + <p> + “I guess maybe you didn't know about Miss Polly's love affair,” he said + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Love affair—HER! No!—and I guess nobody else didn't, + neither.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes they did,” nodded the old man. “And the feller's livin' ter-day—right + in this town, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a-tellin' that. It ain't fit that I should.” The old man drew + himself erect. In his dim blue eyes, as he faced the house, there was the + loyal servant's honest pride in the family he has served and loved for + long years. + </p> + <p> + “But it don't seem possible—her and a lover,” still maintained + Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't know Miss Polly as I did,” he argued. “She used ter be real + handsome—and she would be now, if she'd let herself be.” + </p> + <p> + “Handsome! Miss Polly!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If she'd just let that tight hair of hern all out loose and + careless-like, as it used ter be, and wear the sort of bunnits with posies + in 'em, and the kind o' dresses all lace and white things—you'd see + she'd be handsome! Miss Polly ain't old, Nancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't she, though? Well, then she's got an awfully good imitation of it—she + has, she has!” sniffed Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. It begun then—at the time of the trouble with her + lover,” nodded Old Tom; “and it seems as if she'd been feedin' on wormwood + an' thistles ever since—she's that bitter an' prickly ter deal + with.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say she was,” declared Nancy, indignantly. “There's no pleasin' + her, nohow, no matter how you try! I wouldn't stay if 'twa'n't for the + wages and the folks at home what's needin' 'em. But some day—some + day I shall jest b'ile over; and when I do, of course it'll be good-by + Nancy for me. It will, it will.” + </p> + <p> + Old Tom shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I know. I've felt it. It's nart'ral—but 'tain't best, child; + 'tain't best. Take my word for it, 'tain't best.” And again he bent his + old head to the work before him. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy!” called a sharp voice. + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes, ma'am,” stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA + </h2> + <p> + In due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive in + Beldingsville the next day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o'clock. + Miss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the + attic room. She still frowned as she looked about her. + </p> + <p> + The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs, a + washstand, a bureau—without any mirror—and a small table. + There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the + wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little + room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had + not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and + down, up and down, trying to get out. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window (raising the sash + an inch for the purpose), straightened a chair, frowned again, and left + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” she said a few minutes later, at the kitchen door, “I found a fly + up-stairs in Miss Pollyanna's room. The window must have been raised at + some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall expect you + to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive to-morrow at + four o'clock. I desire you to meet her at the station. Timothy will take + the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says 'light hair, + red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.' That is all I know, but I think + it is sufficient for your purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am; but—you—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said + crisply: + </p> + <p> + “No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is + all.” And she turned away—Miss Polly's arrangements for the comfort + of her niece, Pollyanna, were complete. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a vicious dig across the + dish-towel she was ironing. + </p> + <p> + “'Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat'—all she + knows, indeed! Well, I'd be ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would—and + her my onliest niece what was a-comin' from 'way across the continent!” + </p> + <p> + Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and Nancy + drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was Old + Tom's son. It was sometimes said in the town that if Old Tom was Miss + Polly's right-hand man, Timothy was her left. + </p> + <p> + Timothy was a good-natured youth, and a good-looking one, as well. Short + as had been Nancy's stay at the house, the two were already good friends. + To-day, however, Nancy was too full of her mission to be her usual + talkative self; and almost in silence she took the drive to the station + and alighted to wait for the train. + </p> + <p> + Over and over in her mind she was saying it “light hair, red-checked + dress, straw hat.” Over and over again she was wondering just what sort of + child this Pollyanna was, anyway. + </p> + <p> + “I hope for her sake she's quiet and sensible, and don't drop knives nor + bang doors,” she sighed to Timothy, who had sauntered up to her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if she ain't, nobody knows what'll become of the rest of us,” + grinned Timothy. “Imagine Miss Polly and a NOISY kid! Gorry! there goes + the whistle now!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Timothy, I—I think it was mean ter send me,” chattered the + suddenly frightened Nancy, as she turned and hurried to a point where she + could best watch the passengers alight at the little station. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before Nancy saw her—the slender little girl in the + red-checked gingham with two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her + back. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled little face turned to the + right and to the left, plainly searching for some one. + </p> + <p> + Nancy knew the child at once, but not for some time could she control her + shaking knees sufficiently to go to her. The little girl was standing + quite by herself when Nancy finally did approach her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Miss—Pollyanna?” she faltered. The next moment she found + herself half smothered in the clasp of two gingham-clad arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad, GLAD, GLAD to see you,” cried an eager voice in her ear. + “Of course I'm Pollyanna, and I'm so glad you came to meet me! I hoped you + would.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you did?” stammered Nancy, vaguely wondering how Pollyanna + could possibly have known her—and wanted her. “You—you did?” + she repeated, trying to straighten her hat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; and I've been wondering all the way here what you looked like,” + cried the little girl, dancing on her toes, and sweeping the embarrassed + Nancy from head to foot, with her eyes. “And now I know, and I'm glad you + look just like you do look.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy was relieved just then to have Timothy come up. Pollyanna's words + had been most confusing. + </p> + <p> + “This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” nodded Pollyanna, importantly. “I've got a brand-new one. + The Ladies' Aid bought it for me—and wasn't it lovely of them, when + they wanted the carpet so? Of course I don't know how much red carpet a + trunk could buy, but it ought to buy some, anyhow—much as half an + aisle, don't you think? I've got a little thing here in my bag that Mr. + Gray said was a check, and that I must give it to you before I could get + my trunk. Mr. Gray is Mrs. Gray's husband. They're cousins of Deacon + Carr's wife. I came East with them, and they're lovely! And—there, + here 'tis,” she finished, producing the check after much fumbling in the + bag she carried. + </p> + <p> + Nancy drew a long breath. Instinctively she felt that some one had to draw + one—after that speech. Then she stole a glance at Timothy. Timothy's + eyes were studiously turned away. + </p> + <p> + The three were off at last, with Pollyanna's trunk in behind, and + Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy. During the + whole process of getting started, the little girl had kept up an + uninterrupted stream of comments and questions, until the somewhat dazed + Nancy found herself quite out of breath trying to keep up with her. + </p> + <p> + “There! Isn't this lovely? Is it far? I hope 'tis—I love to ride,” + sighed Pollyanna, as the wheels began to turn. “Of course, if 'tisn't far, + I sha'n't mind, though, 'cause I'll be glad to get there all the sooner, + you know. What a pretty street! I knew 'twas going to be pretty; father + told me—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy, looking at her + apprehensively, saw that her small chin was quivering, and that her eyes + were full of tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with a brave + lifting of her head. + </p> + <p> + “Father told me all about it. He remembered. And—and I ought to have + explained before. Mrs. Gray told me to, at once—about this red + gingham dress, you know, and why I'm not in black. She said you'd think + 'twas queer. But there weren't any black things in the last missionary + barrel, only a lady's velvet basque which Deacon Carr's wife said wasn't + suitable for me at all; besides, it had white spots—worn, you know—on + both elbows, and some other places. Part of the Ladies' Aid wanted to buy + me a black dress and hat, but the other part thought the money ought to go + toward the red carpet they're trying to get—for the church, you + know. Mrs. White said maybe it was just as well, anyway, for she didn't + like children in black—that is, I mean, she liked the children, of + course, but not the black part.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed to stammer: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sure it—it'll be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you feel that way. I do, too,” nodded Pollyanna, again with that + choking little breath. “Of course, 'twould have been a good deal harder to + be glad in black—” + </p> + <p> + “Glad!” gasped Nancy, surprised into an interruption. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that father's gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of + us, you know. He said I must be glad. But it's been pretty hard to—to + do it, even in red gingham, because I—I wanted him, so; and I + couldn't help feeling I OUGHT to have him, specially as mother and the + rest have God and all the angels, while I didn't have anybody but the + Ladies' Aid. But now I'm sure it'll be easier because I've got you, Aunt + Polly. I'm so glad I've got you!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy's aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her turned + suddenly into shocked terror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but—but you've made an awful mistake, d-dear,” she faltered. + “I'm only Nancy. I ain't your Aunt Polly, at all!” + </p> + <p> + “You—you AREN'T?” stammered the little girl, in plain dismay. + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm only Nancy. I never thought of your takin' me for her. We—we + ain't a bit alike we ain't, we ain't!” + </p> + <p> + Timothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the merry + flash from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But who ARE you?” questioned Pollyanna. “You don't look a bit like a + Ladies' Aider!” + </p> + <p> + Timothy laughed outright this time. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washin' an' hard + ironin'. Mis' Durgin does that.” + </p> + <p> + “But there IS an Aunt Polly?” demanded the child, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “You bet your life there is,” cut in Timothy. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna relaxed visibly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right, then.” There was a moment's silence, then she went + on brightly: “And do you know? I'm glad, after all, that she didn't come + to meet me; because now I've got HER still coming, and I've got you + besides.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile. + </p> + <p> + “I call that a pretty slick compliment,” he said. “Why don't you thank the + little lady?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I was thinkin' about—Miss Polly,” faltered Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sighed contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “I was, too. I'm so interested in her. You know she's all the aunt I've + got, and I didn't know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. He + said she lived in a lovely great big house 'way on top of a hill.” + </p> + <p> + “She does. You can see it now,” said Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “It's that big white one with the green blinds, 'way ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how pretty!—and what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I + never saw such a lot of green grass, seems so, all at once. Is my Aunt + Polly rich, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. I never + knew any one that did have, only the Whites—they're some rich. They + have carpets in every room and ice-cream Sundays. Does Aunt Polly have + ice-cream Sundays?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into + Timothy's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss. Your aunt don't like ice-cream, I guess; leastways I never saw + it on her table.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, doesn't she? I'm so sorry! I don't see how she can help liking + ice-cream. But—anyhow, I can be kinder glad about that, 'cause the + ice-cream you don't eat can't make your stomach ache like Mrs. White's did—that + is, I ate hers, you know, lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got the + carpets, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she's got the carpets.” + </p> + <p> + “In every room?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, frowning suddenly at the + thought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad,” exulted Pollyanna. “I love carpets. We didn't have any, + only two little rugs that came in a missionary barrel, and one of those + had ink spots on it. Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly beautiful + ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a + lion—not together, you know—the lambs and the lion. Oh, of + course the Bible says they will sometime, but they haven't yet—that + is, I mean Mrs. White's haven't. Don't you just love pictures?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know,” answered Nancy in a half-stifled voice. + </p> + <p> + “I do. We didn't have any pictures. They don't come in the barrels much, + you know. There did two come once, though. But one was so good father sold + it to get money to buy me some shoes with; and the other was so bad it + fell to pieces just as soon as we hung it up. Glass—it broke, you + know. And I cried. But I'm glad now we didn't have any of those nice + things, 'cause I shall like Aunt Polly's all the better—not being + used to 'em, you see. Just as it is when the PRETTY hair-ribbons come in + the barrels after a lot of faded-out brown ones. My! but isn't this a + perfectly beautiful house?” she broke off fervently, as they turned into + the wide driveway. + </p> + <p> + It was when Timothy was unloading the trunk that Nancy found an + opportunity to mutter low in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you never say nothin' ter me again about leavin', Timothy Durgin. + You couldn't HIRE me ter leave!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave! I should say not,” grinned the youth. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't drag me away. It'll be more fun here now, with that kid + 'round, than movin'-picture shows, every day!” + </p> + <p> + “Fun!—fun!” repeated Nancy, indignantly, “I guess it'll be somethin' + more than fun for that blessed child—when them two tries ter live + tergether; and I guess she'll be a-needin' some rock ter fly to for + refuge. Well, I'm a-goin' ter be that rock, Timothy; I am, I am!” she + vowed, as she turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM + </h2> + <p> + Miss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece. She looked up from + her book, it is true, as Nancy and the little girl appeared in the + sitting-room doorway, and she held out a hand with “duty” written large on + every coldly extended finger. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Pollyanna? I—” She had no chance to say more. + Pollyanna, had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into her + aunt's scandalized, unyielding lap. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don't know how to be glad enough that you + let me come to live with you,” she was sobbing. “You don't know how + perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after you've had + just the Ladies' Aid!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely—though I've not had the pleasure of the Ladies' Aid's + acquaintance,” rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly, trying to unclasp the small, + clinging fingers, and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in the doorway. + “Nancy, that will do. You may go. Pollyanna, be good enough, please, to + stand erect in a proper manner. I don't know yet what you look like.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose you don't; but you see I'm not very much to look at, + anyway, on account of the freckles. Oh, and I ought to explain about the + red gingham and the black velvet basque with white spots on the elbows. I + told Nancy how father said—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; well, never mind now what your father said,” interrupted Miss Polly, + crisply. “You had a trunk, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, indeed, Aunt Polly. I've got a beautiful trunk that the Ladies' + Aid gave me. I haven't got so very much in it—of my own, I mean. The + barrels haven't had many clothes for little girls in them lately; but + there were all father's books, and Mrs. White said she thought I ought to + have those. You see, father—” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna,” interrupted her aunt again, sharply, “there is one thing that + might just as well be understood right away at once; and that is, I do not + care to have you keep talking of your father to me.” + </p> + <p> + The little girl drew in her breath tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, you—you mean—” She hesitated, and her aunt + filled the pause. + </p> + <p> + “We will go up-stairs to your room. Your trunk is already there, I + presume. I told Timothy to take it up—if you had one. You may follow + me, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room. + Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely high. + </p> + <p> + “After all, I—I reckon I'm glad she doesn't want me to talk about + father,” Pollyanna was thinking. “It'll be easier, maybe—if I don't + talk about him. Probably, anyhow, that is why she told me not to talk + about him.” And Pollyanna, convinced anew of her aunt's “kindness,” + blinked off the tears and looked eagerly about her. + </p> + <p> + She was on the stairway now. Just ahead, her aunt's black silk skirt + rustled luxuriously. Behind her an open door allowed a glimpse of + soft-tinted rugs and satin-covered chairs. Beneath her feet a marvellous + carpet was like green moss to the tread. On every side the gilt of picture + frames or the glint of sunlight through the filmy mesh of lace curtains + flashed in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly,” breathed the little girl, rapturously; “what + a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully glad you must be you're so + rich!” + </p> + <p> + “PollyANNA!” ejaculated her aunt, turning sharply about as she reached the + head of the stairs. “I'm surprised at you—making a speech like that + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, AREN'T you?” queried Pollyanna, in frank wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not so far forget myself as to + be sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me,” + declared the lady; “certainly not, of RICHES!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairway door. + She was glad, now, that she had put the child in the attic room. Her idea + at first had been to get her niece as far away as possible from herself, + and at the same time place her where her childish heedlessness would not + destroy valuable furnishings. Now—with this evident strain of vanity + showing thus early—it was all the more fortunate that the room + planned for her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly. + </p> + <p> + Eagerly Pollyanna's small feet pattered behind her aunt. Still more + eagerly her big blue eyes tried to look in all directions at once, that no + thing of beauty or interest in this wonderful house might be passed + unseen. Most eagerly of all her mind turned to the wondrously exciting + problem about to be solved: behind which of all these fascinating doors + was waiting now her room—the dear, beautiful room full of curtains, + rugs, and pictures, that was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, her aunt + opened a door and ascended another stairway. + </p> + <p> + There was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either side. At the + top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led to far corners where + the roof came almost down to the floor, and where were stacked innumerable + trunks and boxes. It was hot and stifling, too. Unconsciously Pollyanna + lifted her head higher—it seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw + that her aunt had thrown open a door at the right. + </p> + <p> + “There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I see. Have + you your key?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened. + </p> + <p> + Her aunt frowned. + </p> + <p> + “When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloud + not merely with your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; that is better. I believe you have everything that you need + here,” she added, glancing at the well-filled towel rack and water + pitcher. “I will send Nancy up to help you unpack. Supper is at six + o'clock,” she finished, as she left the room and swept down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + For a moment after she had gone Pollyanna stood quite still, looking after + her. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare floor, the + bare windows. She turned them last to the little trunk that had stood not + so long before in her own little room in the far-away Western home. The + next moment she stumbled blindly toward it and fell on her knees at its + side, covering her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, you poor lamb,” she crooned, dropping to the floor and + drawing the little girl into her arms. “I was just a-fearin! I'd find you + like this, like this.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm bad and wicked, Nancy—awful wicked,” she sobbed. “I just + can't make myself understand that God and the angels needed my father more + than I did.” + </p> + <p> + “No more they did, neither,” declared Nancy, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h!—NANCY!” The burning horror in Pollyanna's eyes dried the + tears. + </p> + <p> + Nancy gave a shamefaced smile and rubbed her own eyes vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, child, I didn't mean it, of course,” she cried briskly. + “Come, let's have your key and we'll get inside this trunk and take out + your dresses in no time, no time.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat tearfully Pollyanna produced the key. + </p> + <p> + “There aren't very many there, anyway,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Then they're all the sooner unpacked,” declared Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile. + </p> + <p> + “That's so! I can be glad of that, can't I?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Nancy stared. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of—course,” she answered a little uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + Nancy's capable hands made short work of unpacking the books, the patched + undergarments, and the few pitifully unattractive dresses. Pollyanna, + smiling bravely now, flew about, hanging the dresses in the closet, + stacking the books on the table, and putting away the undergarments in the + bureau drawers. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it—it's going to be a very nice room. Don't you think so?” + she stammered, after a while. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Nancy was very busy, apparently, with her head in the + trunk. Pollyanna, standing at the bureau, gazed a little wistfully at the + bare wall above. + </p> + <p> + “And I can be glad there isn't any looking-glass here, too, 'cause where + there ISN'T any glass I can't see my freckles.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy made a sudden queer little sound with her mouth—but when + Pollyanna turned, her head was in the trunk again. At one of the windows, + a few minutes later, Pollyanna gave a glad cry and clapped her hands + joyously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nancy, I hadn't seen this before,” she breathed. “Look—'way off + there, with those trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, and + the river shining just like silver. Why, Nancy, there doesn't anybody need + any pictures with that to look at. Oh, I'm so glad now she let me have + this room!” + </p> + <p> + To Pollyanna's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. Pollyanna + hurriedly crossed to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nancy, Nancy—what is it?” she cried; then, fearfully: “This + wasn't—YOUR room, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “My room!” stormed Nancy, hotly, choking back the tears. “If you ain't a + little angel straight from Heaven, and if some folks don't eat dirt before—Oh, + land! there's her bell!” After which amazing speech, Nancy sprang to her + feet, dashed out of the room, and went clattering down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Pollyanna went back to her “picture,” as she mentally + designated the beautiful view from the window. After a time she touched + the sash tentatively. It seemed as if no longer could she endure the + stifling heat. To her joy the sash moved under her fingers. The next + moment the window was wide open, and Pollyanna was leaning far out, + drinking in the fresh, sweet air. + </p> + <p> + She ran then to the other window. That, too, soon flew up under her eager + hands. A big fly swept past her nose, and buzzed noisily about the room. + Then another came, and another; but Pollyanna paid no heed. Pollyanna had + made a wonderful discovery—against this window a huge tree flung + great branches. To Pollyanna they looked like arms outstretched, inviting + her. Suddenly she laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I can do it,” she chuckled. The next moment she had climbed + nimbly to the window ledge. From there it was an easy matter to step to + the nearest tree-branch. Then, clinging like a monkey, she swung herself + from limb to limb until the lowest branch was reached. The drop to the + ground was—even for Pollyanna, who was used to climbing trees—a + little fearsome. She took it, however, with bated breath, swinging from + her strong little arms, and landing on all fours in the soft grass. Then + she picked herself up and looked eagerly about her. + </p> + <p> + She was at the back of the house. Before her lay a garden in which a bent + old man was working. Beyond the garden a little path through an open field + led up a steep hill, at the top of which a lone pine tree stood on guard + beside the huge rock. To Pollyanna, at the moment, there seemed to be just + one place in the world worth being in—the top of that big rock. + </p> + <p> + With a run and a skilful turn, Pollyanna skipped by the bent old man, + threaded her way between the orderly rows of green growing things, and—a + little out of breath—reached the path that ran through the open + field. Then, determinedly, she began to climb. Already, however, she was + thinking what a long, long way off that rock must be, when back at the + window it had looked so near! + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes later the great clock in the hallway of the Harrington + homestead struck six. At precisely the last stroke Nancy sounded the bell + for supper. + </p> + <p> + One, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly frowned and tapped the floor + with her slipper. A little jerkily she rose to her feet, went into the + hall, and looked up-stairs, plainly impatient. For a minute she listened + intently; then she turned and swept into the dining room. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” she said with decision, as soon as the little serving-maid + appeared; “my niece is late. No, you need not call her,” she added + severely, as Nancy made a move toward the hall door. “I told her what time + supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. She may as + well begin at once to learn to be punctual. When she comes down she may + have bread and milk in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” It was well, perhaps, that Miss Polly did not happen to be + looking at Nancy's face just then. + </p> + <p> + At the earliest possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up the back + stairs and thence to the attic room. + </p> + <p> + “Bread and milk, indeed!—and when the poor lamb hain't only just + cried herself to sleep,” she was muttering fiercely, as she softly pushed + open the door. The next moment she gave a frightened cry. “Where are you? + Where've you gone? Where HAVE you gone?” she panted, looking in the + closet, under the bed, and even in the trunk and down the water pitcher. + Then she flew down-stairs and out to Old Tom in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, that blessed child's gone,” she wailed. “She's vanished + right up into Heaven where she come from, poor lamb—and me told ter + give her bread and milk in the kitchen—her what's eatin' angel food + this minute, I'll warrant, I'll warrant!” + </p> + <p> + The old man straightened up. + </p> + <p> + “Gone? Heaven?” he repeated stupidly, unconsciously sweeping the brilliant + sunset sky with his gaze. He stopped, stared a moment intently, then + turned with a slow grin. “Well, Nancy, it do look like as if she'd tried + ter get as nigh Heaven as she could, and that's a fact,” he agreed, + pointing with a crooked finger to where, sharply outlined against the + reddening sky, a slender, wind-blown figure was poised on top of a huge + rock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she ain't goin' ter Heaven that way ter-night—not if I has my + say,” declared Nancy, doggedly. “If the mistress asks, tell her I ain't + furgettin' the dishes, but I gone on a stroll,” she flung back over her + shoulder, as she sped toward the path that led through the open field. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE GAME + </h2> + <p> + “For the land's sake, Miss Pollyanna, what a scare you did give me,” + panted Nancy, hurrying up to the big rock, down which Pollyanna had just + regretfully slid. + </p> + <p> + “Scare? Oh, I'm so sorry; but you mustn't, really, ever get scared about + me, Nancy. Father and the Ladies' Aid used to do it, too, till they found + I always came back all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't even know you'd went,” cried Nancy, tucking the little + girl's hand under her arm and hurrying her down the hill. “I didn't see + you go, and nobody didn't. I guess you flew right up through the roof; I + do, I do.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna skipped gleefully. + </p> + <p> + “I did, 'most—only I flew down instead of up. I came down the tree.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “You did—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Came down the tree, outside my window.” + </p> + <p> + “My stars and stockings!” gasped Nancy, hurrying on again. “I'd like ter + know what yer aunt would say ter that!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you? Well, I'll tell her, then, so you can find out,” promised the + little girl, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” gasped Nancy. “No—no!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don't mean she'd CARE!” cried Pollyanna, plainly disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “No—er—yes—well, never mind. I—I ain't so very + particular about knowin' what she'd say, truly,” stammered Nancy, + determined to keep one scolding from Pollyanna, if nothing more. “But, + say, we better hurry. I've got ter get them dishes done, ye know.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll help,” promised Pollyanna, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Pollyanna!” demurred Nancy. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna took + a firmer hold of her friend's arm. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'm glad, after all, that you DID get scared—a little, + 'cause then you came after me,” she shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little lamb! And you must be hungry, too. I—I'm afraid you'll + have ter have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Yer aunt didn't like + it—because you didn't come down ter supper, ye know.” + </p> + <p> + “But I couldn't. I was up here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but—she didn't know that, you see!” observed Nancy, dryly, + stifling a chuckle. “I'm sorry about the bread and milk; I am, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not. I'm glad.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I like bread and milk, and I'd like to eat with you. I don't see any + trouble about being glad about that.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem ter see any trouble bein' glad about everythin',” retorted + Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna's brave attempts + to like the bare little attic room. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the game, you know, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “The—GAME?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the 'just being glad' game.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever in the world are you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's a game. Father told it to me, and it's lovely,” rejoined + Pollyanna. “We've played it always, ever since I was a little, little + girl. I told the Ladies' Aid, and they played it—some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? I ain't much on games, though.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering + twilight her face looked thin and wistful. + </p> + <p> + “Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel.” + </p> + <p> + “CRUTCHES!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see I'd wanted a doll, and father had written them so; but when + the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn't any dolls come in, but + the little crutches had. So she sent 'em along as they might come in handy + for some child, sometime. And that's when we began it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say I can't see any game about that, about that,” declared + Nancy, almost irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad + about—no matter what 'twas,” rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. “And we + began right then—on the crutches.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, goodness me! I can't see anythin' ter be glad about—gettin' a + pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “There is—there is,” she crowed. “But <i>I</i> couldn't see it, + either, Nancy, at first,” she added, with quick honesty. “Father had to + tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, suppose YOU tell ME,” almost snapped Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don't—NEED—'EM!” + exulted Pollyanna, triumphantly. “You see it's just as easy—when you + know how!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the queer doin's!” breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna with + almost fearful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it isn't queer—it's lovely,” maintained Pollyanna + enthusiastically. “And we've played it ever since. And the harder 'tis, + the more fun 'tis to get 'em out; only—only sometimes it's almost + too hard—like when your father goes to Heaven, and there isn't + anybody but a Ladies' Aid left.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or when you're put in a snippy little room 'way at the top of the + house with nothin' in it,” growled Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sighed. + </p> + <p> + “That was a hard one, at first,” she admitted, “specially when I was so + kind of lonesome. I just didn't feel like playing the game, anyway, and I + HAD been wanting pretty things, so! Then I happened to think how I hated + to see my freckles in the looking-glass, and I saw that lovely picture out + the window, too; so then I knew I'd found the things to be glad about. You + see, when you're hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other + kind—like the doll you wanted, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Most generally it doesn't take so long,” sighed Pollyanna; “and lots of + times now I just think of them WITHOUT thinking, you know. I've got so + used to playing it. It's a lovely game. F-father and I used to like it so + much,” she faltered. “I suppose, though, it—it'll be a little harder + now, as long as I haven't anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will + play it, though,” she added, as an after-thought. + </p> + <p> + “My stars and stockings!—HER!” breathed Nancy, behind her teeth. + Then, aloud, she said doggedly: “See here, Miss Pollyanna, I ain't sayin' + that I'll play it very well, and I ain't sayin' that I know how, anyway; + but I'll play it with ye, after a fashion—I just will, I will!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. “That'll be + splendid! Won't we have fun?” + </p> + <p> + “Er—maybe,” conceded Nancy, in open doubt. “But you mustn't count + too much on me, ye know. I never was no case fur games, but I'm a-goin' + ter make a most awful old try on this one. You're goin' ter have some one + ter play it with, anyhow,” she finished, as they entered the kitchen + together. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite; then, at Nancy's + suggestion, she went into the sitting room, where her aunt sat reading. + Miss Polly looked up coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you into + the kitchen to eat bread and milk.” + </p> + <p> + “But I was real glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and + Nancy, too. You mustn't feel bad about that one bit.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, it's quite time you were in bed. You have had a hard day, and + to-morrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see what it + is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Be careful how + you handle it. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. See that you are down + to that. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt's side + and gave her an affectionate hug. + </p> + <p> + “I've had such a beautiful time, so far,” she sighed happily. “I know I'm + going to just love living with you but then, I knew I should before I + came. Good-night,” she called cheerfully, as she ran from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, upon my soul!” ejaculated Miss Polly, half aloud. “What a most + extraordinary child!” Then she frowned. “She's 'glad' I punished her, and + I 'mustn't feel bad one bit,' and she's going to 'love to live' with me! + Well, upon my soul!” ejaculated Miss Polly again, as she took up her book. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into + the tightly-clutched sheet: + </p> + <p> + “I know, father-among-the-angels, I'm not playing the game one bit now—not + one bit; but I don't believe even you could find anything to be glad about + sleeping all alone 'way off up here in the dark—like this. If only I + was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies' Aider, it would be + easier!” + </p> + <p> + Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, jabbed + her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily: + </p> + <p> + “If playin' a silly-fool game—about bein' glad you've got crutches + when you want dolls—is got ter be—my way—o' bein' that + rock o' refuge—why, I'm a-goin' ter play it—I am, I am!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. A QUESTION OF DUTY + </h2> + <p> + It was nearly seven o'clock when Pollyanna awoke that first day after her + arrival. Her windows faced the south and the west, so she could not see + the sun yet; but she could see the hazy blue of the morning sky, and she + knew that the day promised to be a fair one. + </p> + <p> + The little room was cooler now, and the air blew in fresh and sweet. + Outside, the birds were twittering joyously, and Pollyanna flew to the + window to talk to them. She saw then that down in the garden her aunt was + already out among the rosebushes. With rapid fingers, therefore, she made + herself ready to join her. + </p> + <p> + Down the attic stairs sped Pollyanna, leaving both doors wide open. + Through the hall, down the next flight, then bang through the front + screened-door and around to the garden, she ran. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly, with the bent old man, was leaning over a rose-bush when + Pollyanna, gurgling with delight, flung herself upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I reckon I am glad this morning just to be + alive!” + </p> + <p> + “PollyANNA!” remonstrated the lady, sternly, pulling herself as erect as + she could with a dragging weight of ninety pounds hanging about her neck. + “Is this the usual way you say good morning?” + </p> + <p> + The little girl dropped to her toes, and danced lightly up and down. + </p> + <p> + “No, only when I love folks so I just can't help it! I saw you from my + window, Aunt Polly, and I got to thinking how you WEREN'T a Ladies' Aider, + and you were my really truly aunt; and you looked so good I just had to + come down and hug you!” + </p> + <p> + The bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss Polly attempted a frown—with + not her usual success. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, you—I Thomas, that will do for this morning. I think you + understand—about those rose-bushes,” she said stiffly. Then she + turned and walked rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + “Do you always work in the garden, Mr.—Man?” asked Pollyanna, + interestedly. + </p> + <p> + The man turned. His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as if + with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss. I'm Old Tom, the gardener,” he answered. Timidly, but as if + impelled by an irresistible force, he reached out a shaking hand and let + it rest for a moment on her bright hair. “You are so like your mother, + little Miss! I used ter know her when she was even littler than you be. + You see, I used ter work in the garden—then.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna caught her breath audibly. + </p> + <p> + “You did? And you knew my mother, really—when she was just a little + earth angel, and not a Heaven one? Oh, please tell me about her!” And down + plumped Pollyanna in the middle of the dirt path by the old man's side. + </p> + <p> + A bell sounded from the house. The next moment Nancy was seen flying out + the back door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pollyanna, that bell means breakfast—mornin's,” she panted, + pulling the little girl to her feet and hurrying her back to the house; + “and other times it means other meals. But it always means that you're ter + run like time when ye hear it, no matter where ye be. If ye don't—well, + it'll take somethin' smarter'n we be ter find ANYTHIN' ter be glad about + in that!” she finished, shooing Pollyanna into the house as she would shoo + an unruly chicken into a coop. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast, for the first five minutes, was a silent meal; then Miss Polly, + her disapproving eyes following the airy wings of two flies darting here + and there over the table, said sternly: + </p> + <p> + “Nancy, where did those flies come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am. There wasn't one in the kitchen.” Nancy had been too + excited to notice Pollyanna's up-flung windows the afternoon before. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon maybe they're my flies, Aunt Polly,” observed Pollyanna, + amiably. “There were lots of them this morning having a beautiful time + upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy left the room precipitately, though to do so she had to carry out + the hot muffins she had just brought in. + </p> + <p> + “Yours!” gasped Miss Polly. “What do you mean? Where did they come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, they came from out of doors of course, through the + windows. I SAW some of them come in.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw them! You mean you raised those windows without any screens?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. There weren't any screens there, Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy, at this moment, came in again with the muffins. Her face was grave, + but very red. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” directed her mistress, sharply, “you may set the muffins down and + go at once to Miss Pollyanna's room and shut the windows. Shut the doors, + also. Later, when your morning work is done, go through every room with + the spatter. See that you make a thorough search.” + </p> + <p> + To her niece she said: + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, I have ordered screens for those windows. I knew, of course, + that it was my duty to do that. But it seems to me that you have quite + forgotten YOUR duty.” + </p> + <p> + “My—duty?” Pollyanna's eyes were wide with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I know it is warm, but I consider it your duty to keep your + windows closed till those screens come. Flies, Pollyanna, are not only + unclean and annoying, but very dangerous to health. After breakfast I will + give you a little pamphlet on this matter to read.” + </p> + <p> + “To read? Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. I love to read!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly drew in her breath audibly, then she shut her lips together + hard. Pollyanna, seeing her stern face, frowned a little thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'm sorry about the duty I forgot, Aunt Polly,” she apologized + timidly. “I won't raise the windows again.” + </p> + <p> + Her aunt made no reply. She did not speak, indeed, until the meal was + over. Then she rose, went to the bookcase in the sitting room, took out a + small paper booklet, and crossed the room to her niece's side. + </p> + <p> + “This is the article I spoke of, Pollyanna. I desire you to go to your + room at once and read it. I will be up in half an hour to look over your + things.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly's head, many times + magnified, cried joyously: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly!” The next moment she skipped merrily from the + room, banging the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly frowned, hesitated, then crossed the room majestically and + opened the door; but Pollyanna was already out of sight, clattering up the + attic stairs. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later when Miss Polly, her face expressing stern duty in + every line, climbed those stairs and entered Pollyanna's room, she was + greeted with a burst of eager enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, I never saw anything so perfectly lovely and interesting + in my life. I'm so glad you gave me that book to read! Why, I didn't + suppose flies could carry such a lot of things on their feet, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” observed Aunt Polly, with dignity. “Pollyanna, you may + bring out your clothes now, and I will look them over. What are not + suitable for you I shall give to the Sullivans, of course.” + </p> + <p> + With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned toward + the closet. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll think they're worse than the Ladies' Aid did—and + THEY said they were shameful,” she sighed. “But there were mostly things + for boys and older folks in the last two or three barrels; and—did + you ever have a missionary barrel, Aunt Polly?” + </p> + <p> + At her aunt's look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at once. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, of course you didn't, Aunt Polly!” she hurried on, with a hot + blush. “I forgot; rich folks never have to have them. But you see + sometimes I kind of forget that you are rich—up here in this room, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly's lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna, + plainly unaware that she had said anything in the least unpleasant, was + hurrying on. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was going to say, you can't tell a thing about missionary + barrels—except that you won't find in 'em what you think you're + going to—even when you think you won't. It was the barrels every + time, too, that were hardest to play the game on, for father and—” + </p> + <p> + Just in time Pollyanna remembered that she was not to talk of her father + to her aunt. She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out + all the poor little dresses in both her arms. + </p> + <p> + “They aren't nice, at all,” she choked, “and they'd been black if it + hadn't been for the red carpet for the church; but they're all I've got.” + </p> + <p> + With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate + garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna. Next she bestowed + frowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers. + </p> + <p> + “I've got the best ones on,” confessed Pollyanna, anxiously. “The Ladies' + Aid bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs. Jones—she's + the president—told 'em I should have that if they had to clatter + down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days. But they won't. Mr. + White doesn't like the noise. He's got nerves, his wife says; but he's got + money, too, and they expect he'll give a lot toward the carpet—on + account of the nerves, you know. I should think he'd be glad that if he + did have the nerves he'd got money, too; shouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments + finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath—I mean, I was taught at home + some, too.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course. Mr. Hall, + the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong. Meanwhile, + I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an hour each day.” + </p> + <p> + “I love to read; but if you don't want to hear me I'd be just glad to read + to myself—truly, Aunt Polly. And I wouldn't have to half try to be + glad, either, for I like best to read to myself—on account of the + big words, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it,” rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. “Have you studied music?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much. I don't like my music—I like other people's, though. I + learned to play on the piano a little. Miss Gray—she plays for + church—she taught me. But I'd just as soon let that go as not, Aunt + Polly. I'd rather, truly.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” observed Aunt Polly, with slightly uplifted eyebrows. + “Nevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are properly + instructed in at least the rudiments of music. You sew, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” Pollyanna sighed. “The Ladies' Aid taught me that. But I had + an awful time. Mrs. Jones didn't believe in holding your needle like the + rest of 'em did on buttonholing, and Mrs. White thought backstitching + ought to be taught you before hemming (or else the other way), and Mrs. + Harriman didn't believe in putting you on patchwork ever, at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there will be no difficulty of that kind any longer, Pollyanna. I + shall teach you sewing myself, of course. You do not know how to cook, I + presume.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “They were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I hadn't got + far. They were more divided up on that than they were on the sewing. They + were GOING to begin on bread; but there wasn't two of 'em that made it + alike, so after arguing it all one sewing-meeting, they decided to take + turns at me one forenoon a week—in their own kitchens, you know. I'd + only learned chocolate fudge and fig cake, though, when—when I had + to stop.” Her voice broke. + </p> + <p> + “Chocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed!” scorned Miss Polly. “I think we + can remedy that very soon.” She paused in thought for a minute, then went + on slowly: “At nine o'clock every morning you will read aloud one + half-hour to me. Before that you will use the time to put this room in + order. Wednesday and Saturday forenoons, after half-past nine, you will + spend with Nancy in the kitchen, learning to cook. Other mornings you will + sew with me. That will leave the afternoons for your music. I shall, of + course, procure a teacher at once for you,” she finished decisively, as + she arose from her chair. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna cried out in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at all just + to—to live.” + </p> + <p> + “To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all the time!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course I'd be BREATHING all the time I was doing those things, + Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the time you're + asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living—doing the things you + want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing + hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all + about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the + perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That's what I call + living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn't living!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly lifted her head irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, you ARE the most extraordinary child! You will be allowed a + proper amount of playtime, of course. But, surely, it seems to me if I am + willing to do my duty in seeing that you have proper care and instruction, + YOU ought to be willing to do yours by seeing that that care and + instruction are not ungratefully wasted.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungrateful—to YOU! Why, I + LOVE YOU—and you aren't even a Ladies' Aider; you're an aunt!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; then see that you don't act ungrateful,” vouchsafed Miss + Polly, as she turned toward the door. + </p> + <p> + She had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called + after her: + </p> + <p> + “Please, Aunt Polly, you didn't tell me which of my things you wanted to—to + give away.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly emitted a tired sigh—a sigh that ascended straight to + Pollyanna's ears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pollyanna. Timothy will drive us into town at + half-past one this afternoon. Not one of your garments is fit for my niece + to wear. Certainly I should be very far from doing my duty by you if I + should let you appear out in any one of them.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sighed now—she believed she was going to hate that word—duty. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly, please,” she called wistfully, “isn't there ANY way you can + be glad about all that—duty business?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Miss Polly looked up in dazed surprise; then, suddenly, with very + red cheeks, she turned and swept angrily down the stairs. “Don't be + impertinent, Pollyanna!” + </p> + <p> + In the hot little attic room Pollyanna dropped herself on to one of the + straight-backed chairs. To her, existence loomed ahead one endless round + of duty. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see, really, what there was impertinent about that,” she sighed. + “I was only asking her if she couldn't tell me something to be glad about + in all that duty business.” + </p> + <p> + For several minutes Pollyanna sat in silence, her rueful eyes fixed on the + forlorn heap of garments on the bed. Then, slowly, she rose and began to + put away the dresses. + </p> + <p> + “There just isn't anything to be glad about, that I can see,” she said + aloud; “unless—it's to be glad when the duty's done!” Whereupon she + laughed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS + </h2> + <p> + At half-past one o'clock Timothy drove Miss Polly and her niece to the + four or five principal dry goods stores, which were about half a mile from + the homestead. + </p> + <p> + Fitting Pollyanna with a new wardrobe proved to be more or less of an + exciting experience for all concerned. Miss Polly came out of it with the + feeling of limp relaxation that one might have at finding oneself at last + on solid earth after a perilous walk across the very thin crust of a + volcano. The various clerks who had waited upon the pair came out of it + with very red faces, and enough amusing stories of Pollyanna to keep their + friends in gales of laughter the rest of the week. Pollyanna herself came + out of it with radiant smiles and a heart content; for, as she expressed + it to one of the clerks: “When you haven't had anybody but missionary + barrels and Ladies' Aiders to dress you, it IS perfectly lovely to just + walk right in and buy clothes that are brand-new, and that don't have to + be tucked up or let down because they don't fit!” + </p> + <p> + The shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon; then came supper + and a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden, and another with Nancy + on the back porch, after the dishes were done, and while Aunt Polly paid a + visit to a neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her mother, that made her very + happy indeed; and Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles away + at “The Corners,” where lived her own dear mother, and her equally dear + brother and sisters. She promised, too, that sometime, if Miss Polly were + willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them. + </p> + <p> + “And THEY'VE got lovely names, too. You'll like THEIR names,” sighed + Nancy. “They're 'Algernon,' and 'Florabelle' and 'Estelle.' I—I just + hate 'Nancy'!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it isn't pretty like the others. You see, I was the first baby, + and mother hadn't begun ter read so many stories with the pretty names in + 'em, then.” + </p> + <p> + “But I love 'Nancy,' just because it's you,” declared Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, I guess you could love 'Clarissa Mabelle' just as well,” + retorted Nancy, “and it would be a heap happier for me. I think THAT + name's just grand!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow,” she chuckled, “you can be glad it isn't 'Hephzibah.'” + </p> + <p> + “Hephzibah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Mrs. White's name is that. Her husband calls her 'Hep,' and she + doesn't like it. She says when he calls out 'Hep—Hep!' she feels + just as if the next minute he was going to yell 'Hurrah!' And she doesn't + like to be hurrahed at.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy's gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't beat the Dutch! Say, do you know?—I sha'n't + never hear 'Nancy' now that I don't think o' that 'Hep—Hep!' and + giggle. My, I guess I AM glad—” She stopped short and turned amazed + eyes on the little girl. “Say, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean—was you + playin' that 'ere game THEN—about my bein' glad I wa'n't named + Hephzibah'?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nancy, that's so! I WAS playing the game—but that's one of the + times I just did it without thinking, I reckon. You see, you DO, lots of + times; you get so used to it—looking for something to be glad about, + you know. And most generally there is something about everything that you + can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, m-maybe,” granted Nancy, with open doubt. + </p> + <p> + At half-past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. The screens had not yet come, + and the close little room was like an oven. With longing eyes Pollyanna + looked at the two fast-closed windows—but she did not raise them. + She undressed, folded her clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew out her + candle and climbed into bed. + </p> + <p> + Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from side to side of + the hot little cot, she did not know; but it seemed to her that it must + have been hours before she finally slipped out of bed, felt her way across + the room and opened her door. + </p> + <p> + Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness save where the moon flung a + path of silver half-way across the floor from the east dormer window. With + a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness to the right and to the + left, Pollyanna drew a quick breath and pattered straight into that + silvery path, and on to the window. + </p> + <p> + She had hoped, vaguely, that this window might have a screen, but it did + not. Outside, however, there was a wide world of fairy-like beauty, and + there was, too, she knew, fresh, sweet air that would feel so good to hot + cheeks and hands! + </p> + <p> + As she stepped nearer and peered longingly out, she saw something else: + she saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat tin roof of + Miss Polly's sun parlor built over the porte-cochere. The sight filled her + with longing. If only, now, she were out there! + </p> + <p> + Fearfully she looked behind her. Back there, somewhere, were her hot + little room and her still hotter bed; but between her and them lay a + horrid desert of blackness across which one must feel one's way with + outstretched, shrinking arms; while before her, out on the sun-parlor + roof, were the moonlight and the cool, sweet night air. + </p> + <p> + If only her bed were out there! And folks did sleep out of doors. Joel + Hartley at home, who was so sick with the consumption, HAD to sleep out of + doors. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window a + row of long white bags hanging from nails. Nancy had said that they + contained the winter clothing, put away for the summer. A little fearfully + now, Pollyanna felt her way to these bags, selected a nice fat soft one + (it contained Miss Polly's sealskin coat) for a bed; and a thinner one to + be doubled up for a pillow, and still another (which was so thin it seemed + almost empty) for a covering. Thus equipped, Pollyanna in high glee + pattered to the moonlit window again, raised the sash, stuffed her burden + through to the roof below, then let herself down after it, closing the + window carefully behind her—Pollyanna had not forgotten those flies + with the marvellous feet that carried things. + </p> + <p> + How deliciously cool it was! Pollyanna quite danced up and down with + delight, drawing in long, full breaths of the refreshing air. The tin roof + under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna rather + liked. She walked, indeed, two or three times back and forth from end to + end—it gave her such a pleasant sensation of airy space after her + hot little room; and the roof was so broad and flat that she had no fear + of falling off. Finally, with a sigh of content, she curled herself up on + the sealskin-coat mattress, arranged one bag for a pillow and the other + for a covering, and settled herself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad now that the screens didn't come,” she murmured, blinking up + at the stars; “else I couldn't have had this!” + </p> + <p> + Down-stairs in Miss Polly's room next the sun parlor, Miss Polly herself + was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and + frightened. A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice to + Timothy: + </p> + <p> + “Come up quick!—you and your father. Bring lanterns. Somebody is on + the roof of the sun parlor. He must have climbed up the rose-trellis or + somewhere, and of course he can get right into the house through the east + window in the attic. I have locked the attic door down here—but + hurry, quick!” + </p> + <p> + Some time later, Pollyanna, just dropping off to sleep, was startled by a + lantern flash, and a trio of amazed ejaculations. She opened her eyes to + find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom just getting through + the window, and her aunt peering out at her from behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, what does this mean?” cried Aunt Polly then. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna blinked sleepy eyes and sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Tom—Aunt Polly!” she stammered. “Don't look so scared! It + isn't that I've got the consumption, you know, like Joel Hartley. It's + only that I was so hot—in there. But I shut the window, Aunt Polly, + so the flies couldn't carry those germ-things in.” + </p> + <p> + Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. Old Tom, with almost equal + precipitation, handed his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son. + Miss Polly bit her lip hard—until the men were gone; then she said + sternly: + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, hand those things to me at once and come in here. Of all the + extraordinary children!” she ejaculated a little later, as, with Pollyanna + by her side, and the lantern in her hand, she turned back into the attic. + </p> + <p> + To Pollyanna the air was all the more stifling after that cool breath of + the out of doors; but she did not complain. She only drew a long quivering + sigh. + </p> + <p> + At the top of the stairs Miss Polly jerked out crisply: + </p> + <p> + “For the rest of the night, Pollyanna, you are to sleep in my bed with me. + The screens will be here to-morrow, but until then I consider it my duty + to keep you where I know where you are.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna drew in her breath. + </p> + <p> + “With you?—in your bed?” she cried rapturously. “Oh, Aunt Polly, + Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely of you! And when I've so wanted to sleep + with some one sometime—some one that belonged to me, you know; not a + Ladies' Aider. I've HAD them. My! I reckon I am glad now those screens + didn't come! Wouldn't you be?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. Miss Polly was stalking on ahead. Miss Polly, to tell + the truth, was feeling curiously helpless. For the third time since + Pollyanna's arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Pollyanna—and for the + third time she was being confronted with the amazing fact that her + punishment was being taken as a special reward of merit. No wonder Miss + Polly was feeling curiously helpless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT + </h2> + <p> + It was not long before life at the Harrington homestead settled into + something like order—though not exactly the order that Miss Polly + had at first prescribed. Pollyanna sewed, practised, read aloud, and + studied cooking in the kitchen, it is true; but she did not give to any of + these things quite so much time as had first been planned. She had more + time, also, to “just live,” as she expressed it, for almost all of every + afternoon from two until six o'clock was hers to do with as she liked—provided + she did not “like” to do certain things already prohibited by Aunt Polly. + </p> + <p> + It is a question, perhaps, whether all this leisure time was given to the + child as a relief to Pollyanna from work—or as a relief to Aunt + Polly from Pollyanna. Certainly, as those first July days passed, Miss + Polly found occasion many times to ejaculate “What an extraordinary + child!” and certainly the reading and sewing lessons found her at their + conclusion each day somewhat dazed and wholly exhausted. + </p> + <p> + Nancy, in the kitchen, fared better. She was not dazed nor exhausted. + Wednesdays and Saturdays came to be, indeed, red-letter days to her. + </p> + <p> + There were no children in the immediate neighborhood of the Harrington + homestead for Pollyanna to play with. The house itself was on the + outskirts of the village, and though there were other houses not far away, + they did not chance to contain any boys or girls near Pollyanna's age. + This, however, did not seem to disturb Pollyanna in the least. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I don't mind it at all,” she explained to Nancy. “I'm happy just + to walk around and see the streets and the houses and watch the people. I + just love people. Don't you, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't say I do—all of 'em,” retorted Nancy, tersely. + </p> + <p> + Almost every pleasant afternoon found Pollyanna begging for “an errand to + run,” so that she might be off for a walk in one direction or another; and + it was on these walks that frequently she met the Man. To herself + Pollyanna always called him “the Man,” no matter if she met a dozen other + men the same day. + </p> + <p> + The Man often wore a long black coat and a high silk hat—two things + that the “just men” never wore. His face was clean shaven and rather pale, + and his hair, showing below his hat, was somewhat gray. He walked erect, + and rather rapidly, and he was always alone, which made Pollyanna vaguely + sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that she one day spoke to + him. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, sir? Isn't this a nice day?” she called cheerily, as she + approached him. + </p> + <p> + The man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak—to me?” he asked in a sharp voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna. “I say, it's a nice day, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh! Humph!” he grunted; and strode on again. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought. + </p> + <p> + The next day she saw him again. + </p> + <p> + “'Tisn't quite so nice as yesterday, but it's pretty nice,” she called out + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh! Humph!” grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna + laughed happily. + </p> + <p> + When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner, + the man stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every day?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I'm so glad + you stopped. Now we're introduced—only I don't know your name yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the—” The man did not finish his sentence, but strode + on faster than ever. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually + smiling lips. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he didn't understand—but that was only half an introduction. + I don't know HIS name, yet,” she murmured, as she proceeded on her way. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was carrying calf's-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow to-day. Miss Polly + Harrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said she + thought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and a + member of her church—it was the duty of all the church members to + look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow usually + on Thursday afternoons—not personally, but through Nancy. To-day + Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given it to her + in accordance with Miss Polly's orders. + </p> + <p> + “And it's glad that I am ter get rid of it,” Nancy had declared in private + afterwards to Pollyanna; “though it's a shame ter be tuckin' the job off + on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!” + </p> + <p> + “But I'd love to do it, Nancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you won't—after you've done it once,” predicted Nancy, + sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because nobody does. If folks wa'n't sorry for her there wouldn't a soul + go near her from mornin' till night, she's that cantankerous. All is, I + pity her daughter what HAS ter take care of her.” + </p> + <p> + “But, why, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in plain words, it's just that nothin' what ever has happened, has + happened right in Mis' Snow's eyes. Even the days of the week ain't run + ter her mind. If it's Monday she's bound ter say she wished 'twas Sunday; + and if you take her jelly you're pretty sure ter hear she wanted chicken—but + if you DID bring her chicken, she'd be jest hankerin' for lamb broth!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what a funny woman,” laughed Pollyanna. “I think I shall like to go + to see her. She must be so surprising and—and different. I love + DIFFERENT folks.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, Mis' Snow's 'different,' all right—I hope, for the + sake of the rest of us!” Nancy had finished grimly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks to-day as she turned in at the + gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling, indeed, + at the prospect of meeting this “different” Mrs. Snow. + </p> + <p> + A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” began Pollyanna politely. “I'm from Miss Polly + Harrington, and I'd like to see Mrs. Snow, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you would, you're the first one that ever 'liked' to see her,” + muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. The + girl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door at the + end of it. + </p> + <p> + In the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door, + Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to the + gloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half-sitting up in the bed + across the room. Pollyanna advanced at once. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are comfortable + to-day, and she's sent you some calf's-foot jelly.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! Jelly?” murmured a fretful voice. “Of course I'm very much obliged, but I was hoping 'twould be lamb broth + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned a little. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks brought you jelly,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” The sick woman turned sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing, much,” apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly; “and of course it + doesn't really make any difference. It's only that Nancy said it was + chicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and lamb broth when we brought + chicken—but maybe 'twas the other way, and Nancy forgot.” + </p> + <p> + The sick woman pulled herself up till she sat erect in the bed—a + most unusual thing for her to do, though Pollyanna did not know this. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, THAT isn't my name, Mrs. Snow—and I'm so glad 'tisn't, too! + That would be worse than 'Hephzibah,' wouldn't it? I'm Pollyanna Whittier, + Miss Polly Harrington's niece, and I've come to live with her. That's why + I'm here with the jelly this morning.” + </p> + <p> + All through the first part of this sentence, the sick woman had sat + interestedly erect; but at the reference to the jelly she fell back on her + pillow listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but my appetite + isn't very good this morning, and I was wanting lamb—” She stopped + suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of subject. “I never slept a + wink last night—not a wink!” + </p> + <p> + “O dear, I wish <i>I</i> didn't,” sighed Pollyanna, placing the jelly on + the little stand and seating herself comfortably in the nearest chair. + “You lose such a lot of time just sleeping! Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Lose time—sleeping!” exclaimed the sick woman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when you might be just living, you know. It seems such a pity we + can't live nights, too.” + </p> + <p> + Once again the woman pulled herself erect in her bed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you ain't the amazing young one!” she cried. “Here! do you go to + that window and pull up the curtain,” she directed. “I should like to know + what you look like!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a little ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “O dear! then you'll see my freckles, won't you?” she sighed, as she went + to the window; “—and just when I was being so glad it was dark and + you couldn't see 'em. There! Now you can—oh!” she broke off + excitedly, as she turned back to the bed; “I'm so glad you wanted to see + me, because now I can see you! They didn't tell me you were so pretty!” + </p> + <p> + “Me!—pretty!” scoffed the woman, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Didn't you know it?” cried Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, I didn't,” retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived forty + years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things + were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hair's all dark, too, and + curly,” cooed Pollyanna. “I love black curls. (That's one of the things + I'm going to have when I get to Heaven.) And you've got two little red + spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! I should think you'd + know it when you looked at yourself in the glass.” + </p> + <p> + “The glass!” snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. “Yes, + well, I hain't done much prinkin' before the mirror these days—and + you wouldn't, if you was flat on your back as I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, of course not,” agreed Pollyanna, sympathetically. “But wait—just + let me show you,” she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau and picking + up a small hand-glass. + </p> + <p> + On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a + critical gaze. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon maybe, if you don't mind, I'd like to fix your hair just a + little before I let you see it,” she proposed. “May I fix your hair, + please?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I—suppose so, if you want to,” permitted Mrs. Snow, + grudgingly; “but 'twon't stay, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you. I love to fix people's hair,” exulted Pollyanna, carefully + laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. “I sha'n't do much + to-day, of course—I'm in such a hurry for you to see how pretty you + are; but some day I'm going to take it all down and have a perfectly + lovely time with it,” she cried, touching with soft fingers the waving + hair above the sick woman's forehead. + </p> + <p> + For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory + curl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or shaking + a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better pose. + Meanwhile the sick woman, frowning prodigiously, and openly scoffing at + the whole procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning to tingle with a + feeling perilously near to excitement. + </p> + <p> + “There!” panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase near by and + tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect. “Now I + reckon we're ready to be looked at!” And she held out the mirror in + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. “I like + red pinks better than pink ones; but then, it'll fade, anyhow, before + night, so what's the difference!” + </p> + <p> + “But I should think you'd be glad they did fade,” laughed Pollyanna, + “'cause then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love your + hair fluffed out like that,” she finished with a satisfied gaze. “Don't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hm-m; maybe. Still—'twon't last, with me tossing back and forth on + the pillow as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not—and I'm glad, too,” nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully, + “because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think you'd be glad + it's black—black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair + like mine does.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair—shows gray too + soon,” retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held the + mirror before her face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it,” sighed + Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you wouldn't!—not if you were me. You wouldn't be glad for + black hair nor anything else—if you had to lie here all day as I + do!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown. + </p> + <p> + “Why, 'twould be kind of hard—to do it then, wouldn't it?” she mused + aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Be glad about things.” + </p> + <p> + “Be glad about things—when you're sick in bed all your days? Well, I + should say it would,” retorted Mrs. Snow. “If you don't think so, just + tell me something to be glad about; that's all!” + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Snow's unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and + clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goody! That'll be a hard one—won't it? I've got to go, now, but + I'll think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come I + can tell it to you. Good-by. I've had a lovely time! Good-by,” she called + again, as she tripped through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that?” ejaculated Mrs. Snow, + staring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head and picked up the + mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. + </p> + <p> + “That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake,” she muttered + under her breath. “I declare, I didn't know it could look so pretty. But + then, what's the use?” she sighed, dropping the little glass into the + bedclothes, and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully. + </p> + <p> + A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow's daughter, came in, the mirror + still lay among the bedclothes—though it had been carefully hidden from sight. + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother—the curtain is up!” cried Milly, dividing her amazed + stare between the window and the pink in her mother's hair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if it is?” snapped the sick woman. “I needn't stay in the dark + all my life, if I am sick, need I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, n-no, of course not,” rejoined Milly, in hasty conciliation, as she + reached for the medicine bottle. “It's only—well, you know very well + that I've tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and you + wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her + nightgown. At last she spoke fretfully. + </p> + <p> + “I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress—instead of + lamb broth, for a change!” + </p> + <p> + “Why—mother!” + </p> + <p> + No wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawer behind + her at that moment lay two new nightdresses that Milly for months had been + vainly urging her mother to wear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN + </h2> + <p> + It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, + with a bright smile. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so nice to-day, is it?” she called blithesomely. “I'm glad it + doesn't rain always, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + The man did not even grunt this time, nor turn his head. Pollyanna decided + that of course he did not hear her. The next time, therefore (which + happened to be the following day), she spoke up louder. She thought it + particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the Man was striding along, + his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the ground—which seemed, + to Pollyanna, preposterous in the face of the glorious sunshine and the + freshly-washed morning air: Pollyanna, as a special treat, was on a + morning errand to-day. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” she chirped. “I'm so glad it isn't yesterday, aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face. + </p> + <p> + “See here, little girl, we might just as well settle this thing right now, + once for all,” he began testily. “I've got something besides the weather + to think of. I don't know whether the sun shines or not.” Pollyanna beamed + joyously. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I thought you didn't. That's why I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; well—Eh? What?” he broke off sharply, in sudden understanding + of her words. + </p> + <p> + “I say, that's why I told you—so you would notice it, you know—that + the sun shines, and all that. I knew you'd be glad it did if you only + stopped to think of it—and you didn't look a bit as if you WERE + thinking of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the—” ejaculated the man, with an oddly impotent + gesture. He started forward again, but after the second step he turned + back, still frowning. + </p> + <p> + “See here, why don't you find some one your own age to talk to?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to, sir, but there aren't any 'round here, Nancy says. Still, I + don't mind so very much. I like old folks just as well, maybe better, + sometimes—being used to the Ladies' Aid, so.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! The Ladies' Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for?” The man's + lips were threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was still trying + to hold them grimly stern. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir. You don't look a mite like a Ladies' Aider—not but + that you're just as good, of course—maybe better,” she added in + hurried politeness. “You see, I'm sure you're much nicer than you look!” + </p> + <p> + The man made a queer noise in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the—” he ejaculated again, as he turned and strode on + as before. + </p> + <p> + The next time Pollyanna met the Man, his eyes were gazing straight into + hers, with a quizzical directness that made his face look really pleasant, + Pollyanna thought. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon,” he greeted her a little stiffly. “Perhaps I'd better say + right away that I KNOW the sun is shining to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't have to tell me,” nodded Pollyanna, brightly. “I KNEW you + knew it just as soon as I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you did, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your smile.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted the man, as he passed on. + </p> + <p> + The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke + first, though usually he said little but “good afternoon.” Even that, + however, was a great surprise to Nancy, who chanced to be with Pollyanna + one day when the greeting was given. + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna,” she gasped, “did that man SPEAK TO YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, he always does—now,” smiled Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “'He always does'! Goodness! Do you know who—he—is?” demanded + Nancy. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my part of the + introducing, but he didn't.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy's eyes widened. + </p> + <p> + “But he never speaks ter anybody, child—he hain't for years, I + guess, except when he just has to, for business, and all that. He's John + Pendleton. He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendleton Hill. He + won't even have any one 'round ter cook for him—comes down ter the + hotel for his meals three times a day. I know Sally Miner, who waits on + him, and she says he hardly opens his head enough ter tell what he wants + ter eat. She has ter guess it more'n half the time—only it'll be + somethin' CHEAP! She knows that without no tellin'.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna nodded sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I know. You have to look for cheap things when you're poor. Father and I + took meals out a lot. We had beans and fish balls most generally. We used + to say how glad we were we liked beans—that is, we said it specially + when we were looking at the roast turkey place, you know, that was sixty + cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans?” + </p> + <p> + “Like 'em! What if he does—or don't? Why, Miss Pollyanna, he ain't + poor. He's got loads of money, John Pendleton has—from his father. + There ain't nobody in town as rich as he is. He could eat dollar bills, if + he wanted to—and not know it.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna giggled. + </p> + <p> + “As if anybody COULD eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they + come to try to chew 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! I mean he's rich enough ter do it,” shrugged Nancy. “He ain't + spendin' his money, that's all. He's a-savin' of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for the heathen,” surmised Pollyanna. “How perfectly splendid! That's + denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know; father told me.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy's lips parted abruptly, as if there were angry words all ready to + come; but her eyes, resting on Pollyanna's jubilantly trustful face, saw + something that prevented the words being spoken. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she vouchsafed. Then, showing her old-time interest, she went on: + “But, say, it is queer, his speakin' to you, honestly, Miss Pollyanna. He + don't speak ter no one; and he lives all alone in a great big lovely house + all full of jest grand things, they say. Some says he's crazy, and some + jest cross; and some says he's got a skeleton in his closet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nancy!” shuddered Pollyanna. “How can he keep such a dreadful thing? + I should think he'd throw it away!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the skeleton literally instead of + figuratively, she knew very well; but, perversely, she refrained from + correcting the mistake. + </p> + <p> + “And EVERYBODY says he's mysterious,” she went on. “Some years he jest + travels, week in and week out, and it's always in heathen countries—Egypt + and Asia and the Desert of Sarah, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a missionary,” nodded Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + Nancy laughed oddly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't say that, Miss Pollyanna. When he comes back he writes + books—queer, odd books, they say, about some gimcrack he's found in + them heathen countries. But he don't never seem ter want ter spend no + money here—leastways, not for jest livin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not—if he's saving it for the heathen,” declared + Pollyanna. “But he is a funny man, and he's different, too, just like Mrs. + Snow, only he's a different different.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess he is—rather,” chuckled Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm gladder'n ever now, anyhow, that he speaks to me,” sighed Pollyanna + contentedly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW + </h2> + <p> + The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at + first, in a darkened room. + </p> + <p> + “It's the little girl from Miss Polly's, mother,” announced Milly, in a + tired manner; then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, is it?” asked a fretful voice from the bed. “I remember + you. ANYbody'd remember you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you had + come yesterday. I WANTED you yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you? Well, I'm glad 'tisn't any farther away from yesterday than + to-day is, then,” laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room, and + setting her basket carefully down on a chair. “My! but aren't you dark + here, though? I can't see you a bit,” she cried, unhesitatingly crossing + to the window and pulling up the shade. “I want to see if you've fixed + your hair like I did—oh, you haven't! But, never mind; I'm glad you + haven't, after all, 'cause maybe you'll let me do it—later. But now + I want you to see what I've brought you.” + </p> + <p> + The woman stirred restlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Just as if how it looks would make any difference in how it tastes,” she + scoffed—but she turned her eyes toward the basket. “Well, what is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess! What do you want?” Pollyanna had skipped back to the basket. Her + face was alight. The sick woman frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't WANT anything, as I know of,” she sighed. “After all, they + all taste alike!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “This won't. Guess! If you DID want something, what would it be?” + </p> + <p> + The woman hesitated. She did not realize it herself, but she had so long + been accustomed to wanting what she did not have, that to state off-hand + what she DID want seemed impossible—until she knew what she had. + Obviously, however, she must say something. This extraordinary child was + waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, there's lamb broth—” + </p> + <p> + “I've got it!” crowed Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “But that's what I DIDN'T want,” sighed the sick woman, sure now of what + her stomach craved. “It was chicken I wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've got that, too,” chuckled Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + The woman turned in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Both of them?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and calf's-foot jelly,” triumphed Pollyanna. “I was just bound + you should have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. Oh, of + course, there's only a little of each—but there's some of all of + 'em! I'm so glad you did want chicken,” she went on contentedly, as she + lifted the three little bowls from her basket. “You see, I got to thinking + on the way here—what if you should say tripe, or onions, or + something like that, that I didn't have! Wouldn't it have been a shame—when + I'd tried so hard?” she laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying—mentally to + find something she had lost. + </p> + <p> + “There! I'm to leave them all,” announced Pollyanna, as she arranged the + three bowls in a row on the table. “Like enough it'll be lamb broth you + want to-morrow. How do you do to-day?” she finished in polite inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Very poorly, thank you,” murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into her usual + listless attitude. “I lost my nap this morning. Nellie Higgins next door + has begun music lessons, and her practising drives me nearly wild. She was + at it all the morning—every minute! I'm sure, I don't know what I + shall do!” + </p> + <p> + Polly nodded sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I know. It IS awful! Mrs. White had it once—one of my Ladies' + Aiders, you know. She had rheumatic fever, too, at the same time, so she + couldn't thrash 'round. She said 'twould have been easier if she could + have. Can you?” + </p> + <p> + “Can I—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Thrash 'round—move, you know, so as to change your position when + the music gets too hard to stand.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Snow stared a little. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course I can move—anywhere—in bed,” she rejoined a + little irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow, can't you?” nodded + Pollyanna. “Mrs. White couldn't. You can't thrash when you have rheumatic + fever—though you want to something awful, Mrs. White says. She told + me afterwards she reckoned she'd have gone raving crazy if it hadn't been + for Mr. White's sister's ears—being deaf, so.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister's—EARS! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon I didn't tell it all, and I forgot you didn't know Mrs. + White. You see, Miss White was deaf—awfully deaf; and she came to + visit 'em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the house. Well, they + had such an awful time making her understand ANYTHING, that after that, + every time the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. White felt + so glad she COULD hear it, that she didn't mind so much that she DID hear + it, 'cause she couldn't help thinking how awful 'twould be if she was deaf + and couldn't hear anything, like her husband's sister. You see, she was + playing the game, too. I'd told her about it.” + </p> + <p> + “The—game?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “There! I 'most forgot; but I've thought it up, Mrs. Snow—what you + can be glad about.” + </p> + <p> + “GLAD about! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I told you I would. Don't you remember? You asked me to tell you + something to be glad about—glad, you know, even though you did have + to lie here abed all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” scoffed the woman. “THAT? Yes, I remember that; but I didn't suppose + you were in earnest any more than I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I was,” nodded Pollyanna, triumphantly; “and I found it, too. + But 'TWAS hard. It's all the more fun, though, always, when 'tis hard. And + I will own up, honest to true, that I couldn't think of anything for a + while. Then I got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you, really? Well, what is it?” Mrs. Snow's voice was sarcastically + polite. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “I thought—how glad you could be—that other folks weren't like + you—all sick in bed like this, you know,” she announced + impressively. Mrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry. + </p> + <p> + “Well, really!” she ejaculated then, in not quite an agreeable tone of + voice. + </p> + <p> + “And now I'll tell you the game,” proposed Pollyanna, blithely confident. + “It'll be just lovely for you to play—it'll be so hard. And there's + so much more fun when it is hard! You see, it's like this.” And she began + to tell of the missionary barrel, the crutches, and the doll that did not + come. + </p> + <p> + The story was just finished when Milly appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna,” she said with dreary + listlessness. “She telephoned down to the Harlows' across the way. She + says you're to hurry—that you've got some practising to make up + before dark.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna rose reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she sighed. “I'll hurry.” Suddenly she laughed. “I suppose I + ought to be glad I've got legs to hurry with, hadn't I, Mrs. Snow?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Mrs. Snow's eyes were closed. But Milly, whose eyes + were wide open with surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, as she reached the door. + “I'm awfully sorry about the hair—I wanted to do it. But maybe I can + next time!” + </p> + <p> + One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days, + indeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy they were. + Whereupon her aunt would usually reply, wearily: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are happy; but + I trust that they are profitable, as well—otherwise I should have + failed signally in my duty.” + </p> + <p> + Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss—a + proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly; but one + day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that it wouldn't be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they should + be just happy days?” she asked wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I mean, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “They must be pro-fi-ta-ble as well?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “What is being pro-fi-ta-ble?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it—it's just being profitable—having profit, something + to show for it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Then just being glad isn't pro-fi-ta-ble?” questioned Pollyanna, a little + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “O dear! Then you wouldn't like it, of course. I'm afraid, now, you won't + ever play the game, Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Game? What game?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that father—” Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. + “N-nothing,” she stammered. Miss Polly frowned. + </p> + <p> + “That will do for this morning, Pollyanna,” she said tersely. And the + sewing lesson was over. + </p> + <p> + It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met + her aunt on the stairway. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely!” she cried. “You were coming up to + see me! Come right in. I love company,” she finished, scampering up the + stairs and throwing her door wide open. + </p> + <p> + Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She had been + planning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near + the east window. But to her unbounded surprise now, she found herself, not + in the main attic before the cedar chest, but in Pollyanna's little room + sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs—so many, many times + since Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some + utterly unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set + out to do! + </p> + <p> + “I love company,” said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she were + dispensing the hospitality of a palace; “specially since I've had this + room, all mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a room, always, but 'twas a + hired room, and hired rooms aren't half as nice as owned ones, are they? + And of course I do own this one, don't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, y-yes, Pollyanna,” murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she + did not get up at once and go to look for that shawl. + </p> + <p> + “And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasn't got the + carpets and curtains and pictures that I'd been want—” With a + painful blush Pollyanna stopped short. She was plunging into an entirely + different sentence when her aunt interrupted her sharply. + </p> + <p> + “What's that, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + “N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didn't mean to say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not,” returned Miss Polly, coldly; “but you did say it, so + suppose we have the rest of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't anything only that I'd been kind of planning on pretty + carpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “PLANNING on them!” interrupted Miss Polly, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna blushed still more painfully. + </p> + <p> + “I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,” she apologized. “It was only + because I'd always wanted them and hadn't had them, I suppose. Oh, we'd + had two rugs in the barrels, but they were little, you know, and one had + ink spots, and the other holes; and there never were only those two + pictures; the one fath—I mean the good one we sold, and the bad one + that broke. Of course if it hadn't been for all that I shouldn't have + wanted them, so—pretty things, I mean; and I shouldn't have got to + planning all through the hall that first day how pretty mine would be + here, and—and—but, truly, Aunt Polly, it wasn't but just a minute—I + mean, a few minutes—before I was being glad that the bureau DIDN'T + have a looking-glass, because it didn't show my freckles; and there + couldn't be a nicer picture than the one out my window there; and you've + been so good to me, that—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Pollyanna,” she said stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “You have said quite enough, I'm sure.” The next minute she had swept down + the stairs—and not until she reached the first floor did it suddenly + occur to her that she had gone up into the attic to find a white wool + shawl in the cedar chest near the east window. + </p> + <p> + Less than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy, crisply: + </p> + <p> + “Nancy, you may move Miss Pollyanna's things down-stairs this morning to + the room directly beneath. I have decided to have my niece sleep there for + the present.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” said Nancy aloud. + </p> + <p> + “O glory!” said Nancy to herself. + </p> + <p> + To Pollyanna, a minute later, she cried joyously: + </p> + <p> + “And won't ye jest be listenin' ter this, Miss Pollyanna. You're ter sleep + down-stairs in the room straight under this. You are—you are!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna actually grew white. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—why, Nancy, not really—really and truly?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'll think it's really and truly,” prophesied Nancy, + exultingly, nodding her head to Pollyanna over the armful of dresses she + had taken from the closet. “I'm told ter take down yer things, and I'm + goin' ter take 'em, too, 'fore she gets a chance ter change her mind.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna did not stop to hear the end of this sentence. At the imminent + risk of being dashed headlong, she was flying down-stairs, two steps at a + time. + </p> + <p> + Bang went two doors and a chair before Pollyanna at last reached her goal—Aunt + Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, did you mean it, really? Why, that room's got + EVERYTHING—the carpet and curtains and three pictures, besides the + one outdoors, too, 'cause the windows look the same way. Oh, Aunt Polly!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified that you like the change, of course; + but if you think so much of all those things, I trust you will take proper + care of them; that's all. Pollyanna, please pick up that chair; and you + have banged two doors in the last half-minute.” Miss Polly spoke sternly, + all the more sternly because, for some inexplicable reason, she felt + inclined to cry—and Miss Polly was not used to feeling inclined to + cry. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna picked up the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm; I know I banged 'em—those doors,” she admitted cheerfully. + “You see I'd just found out about the room, and I reckon you'd have banged + doors if—” Pollyanna stopped short and eyed her aunt with new + interest. “Aunt Polly, DID you ever bang doors?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope—not, Pollyanna!” Miss Polly's voice was properly shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame!” Pollyanna's face expressed only concerned + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “A shame!” repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to say more. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. You see, if you'd felt like banging doors you'd have banged + 'em, of course; and if you didn't, that must have meant that you weren't + ever glad over anything—or you would have banged 'em. You couldn't + have helped it. And I'm so sorry you weren't ever glad over anything!” + </p> + <p> + “PollyANna!” gasped the lady; but Pollyanna was gone, and only the distant + bang of the attic-stairway door answered for her. Pollyanna had gone to + help Nancy bring down “her things.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed;—but then, + of course she HAD been glad—over some things! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY + </h2> + <p> + August came. August brought several surprises and some changes—none + of which, however, were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since + Pollyanna's arrival, had come to look for surprises and changes. + </p> + <p> + First there was the kitten. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna found the kitten mewing pitifully some distance down the road. + When systematic questioning of the neighbors failed to find any one who + claimed it, Pollyanna brought it home at once, as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + “And I was glad I didn't find any one who owned it, too,” she told her + aunt in happy confidence; “'cause I wanted to bring it home all the time. + I love kitties. I knew you'd be glad to let it live here.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly looked at the forlorn little gray bunch of neglected misery in + Pollyanna's arms, and shivered: Miss Polly did not care for cats—not + even pretty, healthy, clean ones. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! Pollyanna! What a dirty little beast! And it's sick, I'm sure, and + all mangy and fleay.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, poor little thing,” crooned Pollyanna, tenderly, looking into + the little creature's frightened eyes. “And it's all trembly, too, it's so + scared. You see it doesn't know, yet, that we're going to keep it, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “No—nor anybody else,” retorted Miss Polly, with meaning emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they do,” nodded Pollyanna, entirely misunderstanding her aunt's + words. “I told everybody we should keep it, if I didn't find where it + belonged. I knew you'd be glad to have it—poor little lonesome + thing!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak; but in vain. The curious + helpless feeling that had been hers so often since Pollyanna's arrival, + had her now fast in its grip. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I knew,” hurried on Pollyanna, gratefully, “that you wouldn't + let a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you'd just + taken ME in; and I said so to Mrs. Ford when she asked if you'd let me + keep it. Why, I had the Ladies' Aid, you know, and kitty didn't have + anybody. I knew you'd feel that way,” she nodded happily, as she ran from + the room. + </p> + <p> + “But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Miss Polly. “I don't—” But + Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling: + </p> + <p> + “Nancy, Nancy, just see this dear little kitty that Aunt Polly is going to + bring up along with me!” And Aunt Polly, in the sitting room—who + abhorred cats—fell back in her chair with a gasp of dismay, + powerless to remonstrate. + </p> + <p> + The next day it was a dog, even dirtier and more forlorn, perhaps, than + was the kitten; and again Miss Polly, to her dumfounded amazement, found + herself figuring as a kind protector and an angel of mercy—a role + that Pollyanna so unhesitatingly thrust upon her as a matter of course, + that the woman—who abhorred dogs even more than she did cats, if + possible—found herself as before, powerless to remonstrate. + </p> + <p> + When, in less than a week, however, Pollyanna brought home a small, ragged + boy, and confidently claimed the same protection for him, Miss Polly did + have something to say. It happened after this wise. + </p> + <p> + On a pleasant Thursday morning Pollyanna had been taking calf's-foot jelly + again to Mrs. Snow. Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best of friends now. + Their friendship had started from the third visit Pollyanna had made, the + one after she had told Mrs. Snow of the game. Mrs. Snow herself was + playing the game now, with Pollyanna. To be sure, she was not playing it + very well—she had been sorry for everything for so long, that it was + not easy to be glad for anything now. But under Pollyanna's cheery + instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning fast. + To-day, even, to Pollyanna's huge delight, she had said that she was glad + Pollyanna brought calf's-foot jelly, because that was just what she had + been wanting—she did not know that Milly, at the front door, had + told Pollyanna that the minister's wife had already that day sent over a + great bowlful of that same kind of jelly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy. + </p> + <p> + The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside, + whittling half-heartedly at a small stick. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo,” smiled Pollyanna, engagingly. + </p> + <p> + The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo yourself,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's-foot jelly,” she + chuckled, stopping before him. + </p> + <p> + The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began to + whittle again at his stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass + near him. In spite of Pollyanna's brave assertion that she was “used to + Ladies' Aiders,” and “didn't mind,” she had sighed at times for some + companion of her own age. Hence her determination to make the most of this + one. + </p> + <p> + “My name's Pollyanna Whittier,” she began pleasantly. “What's yours?” + </p> + <p> + Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he + settled back. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy Bean,” he grunted with ungracious indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now we're introduced. I'm glad you did your part—some folks + don't, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house. Where do you + live?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere! Why, you can't do that—everybody lives somewhere,” + asserted Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't—just now. I'm huntin' up a new place.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + The boy regarded her with scornful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Silly! As if I'd be a-huntin' for it—if I knew!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and she did + not like to be called “silly.” Still, he was somebody besides—old + folks. “Where did you live—before?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you ain't the beat'em for askin' questions!” sighed the boy + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I have to be,” retorted Pollyanna calmly, “else I couldn't find out a + thing about you. If you'd talk more I wouldn't talk so much.” + </p> + <p> + The boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a + willing one; but his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this + time. + </p> + <p> + “All right then—here goes! I'm Jimmy Bean, and I'm ten years old + goin' on eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans' Home; but + they've got so many kids there ain't much room for me, an' I wa'n't never + wanted, anyhow, I don't believe. So I've quit. I'm goin' ter live + somewheres else—but I hain't found the place, yet. I'd LIKE a home—jest + a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of a Matron. If ye has + a home, ye has folks; an' I hain't had folks since—dad died. So I'm + a-huntin' now. I've tried four houses, but—they didn't want me—though + I said I expected ter work, 'course. There! Is that all you want ter + know?” The boy's voice had broken a little over the last two sentences. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what a shame!” sympathized Pollyanna. “And didn't there anybody want + you? O dear! I know just how you feel, because after—after my father + died, too, there wasn't anybody but the Ladies' Aid for me, until Aunt + Polly said she'd take—” Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of a + wonderful idea began to show in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know just the place for you,” she cried. “Aunt Polly'll take you—I + know she will! Didn't she take me? And didn't she take Fluffy and Buffy, + when they didn't have any one to love them, or any place to go?—and + they're only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly'll take you! You + don't know how good and kind she is!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Honest Injun? Would she, now? I'd work, ye know, an' I'm real strong!” He + bared a small, bony arm. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she would! Why, my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the world—now + that my mama has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there's rooms—heaps + of 'em,” she continued, springing to her feet, and tugging at his arm. + “It's an awful big house. Maybe, though,” she added a little anxiously, as + they hurried on, “maybe you'll have to sleep in the attic room. I did, at + first. But there's screens there now, so 'twon't be so hot, and the flies + can't get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on their feet. Did you + know about that? It's perfectly lovely! Maybe she'll let you read the book + if you're good—I mean, if you're bad. And you've got freckles, too,”—with + a critical glance—“so you'll be glad there isn't any looking-glass; + and the outdoor picture is nicer than any wall-one could be, so you won't + mind sleeping in that room at all, I'm sure,” panted Pollyanna, finding + suddenly that she needed the rest of her breath for purposes other than + talking. + </p> + <p> + “Gorry!” exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and uncomprehendingly, but + admiringly. Then he added: “I shouldn't think anybody who could talk like + that, runnin', would need ter ask no questions ter fill up time with!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,” she retorted; “for when I'm + talking, YOU don't have to!” + </p> + <p> + When the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her companion + straight into the presence of her amazed aunt. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly,” she triumphed, “just look a-here! I've got something + ever so much nicer, even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up. It's + a real live boy. He won't mind a bit sleeping in the attic, at first, you + know, and he says he'll work; but I shall need him the most of the time to + play with, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand; but + she thought she understood enough. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did + you find him?” she demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + The “dirty little boy” fell back a step and looked toward the door. + Pollyanna laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + “There, if I didn't forget to tell you his name! I'm as bad as the Man. + And he is dirty, too, isn't he?—I mean, the boy is—just like + Fluffy and Buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon he'll improve + all right by washing, just as they did, and—Oh, I 'most forgot + again,” she broke off with a laugh. “This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!” Pollyanna's eyes were wide with + surprise. “He's for you. I brought him home—so he could live here, + you know. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me, + and to Fluffy and Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, because of + course he's even nicer than cats and dogs.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her + throat. The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her. + With a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly + erect. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the most absurd thing you've + done yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren't bad enough but you must + needs bring home ragged little beggars from the street, who—” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and his chin came + up. With two strides of his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly + fearlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a beggar, marm, an' I don't want nothin' o' you. I was cal'latin' + ter work, of course, fur my board an' keep. I wouldn't have come ter your + old house, anyhow, if this 'ere girl hadn't 'a' made me, a-tellin' me how + you was so good an' kind that you'd be jest dyin' ter take me in. So, + there!” And he wheeled about and stalked from the room with a dignity that + would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly,” choked Pollyanna. “Why, I thought you'd be GLAD to have + him here! I'm sure, I should think you'd be glad—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence. Miss + Polly's nerves had snapped at last. The “good and kind” of the boy's words + were still ringing in her ears, and the old helplessness was almost upon + her, she knew. Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom of her will + power. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna,” she cried sharply, “WILL you stop using that everlasting word + 'glad'! It's 'glad'—'glad'—'glad' from morning till night + until I think I shall grow wild!” + </p> + <p> + From sheer amazement Pollyanna's jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly,” she breathed, “I should think you'd be glad to have me + gl—Oh!” she broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying + blindly from the room. + </p> + <p> + Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook + him. + </p> + <p> + “Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how—how sorry I am,” she + panted, catching him with a detaining hand. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry nothin'! I ain't blamin' you,” retorted the boy, sullenly. “But I + ain't no beggar!” he added, with sudden spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you aren't! But you mustn't blame auntie,” appealed Pollyanna. + “Probably I didn't do the introducing right, anyhow; and I reckon I didn't + tell her much who you were. She is good and kind, really—she's + always been; but I probably didn't explain it right. I do wish I could + find some place for you, though!” + </p> + <p> + The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain't no beggar, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face + illumined. + </p> + <p> + “Say, I'll tell you what I WILL do! The Ladies' Aid meets this afternoon. + I heard Aunt Polly say so. I'll lay your case before them. That's what + father always did, when he wanted anything—educating the heathen and + new carpets, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The boy turned fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides—what is a Ladies' + Aid?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?—not to know + what a Ladies' Aid is!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right—if you ain't tellin',” grunted the boy, turning and + beginning to walk away indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sprang to his side at once. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's—why, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sew + and give suppers and raise money and—and talk; that's what a Ladies' + Aid is. They're awfully kind—that is, most of mine was, back home. I + haven't seen this one here, but they're always good, I reckon. I'm going + to tell them about you this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Again the boy turned fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Not much you will! Maybe you think I'm goin' ter stand 'round an' hear a + whole LOT o' women call me a beggar, instead of jest ONE! Not much!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you wouldn't be there,” argued Pollyanna, quickly. “I'd go alone, + of course, and tell them.” + </p> + <p> + “You would?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I'd tell it better this time,” hurried on Pollyanna, quick to + see the signs of relenting in the boy's face. “And there'd be some of 'em, + I know, that would be glad to give you a home.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd work—don't forget ter say that,” cautioned the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point was + gained. “Then I'll let you know to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “By the road—where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow's house.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll be there.” The boy paused before he went on slowly: + “Maybe I'd better go back, then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see I + hain't no other place ter stay; and—and I didn't leave till this + mornin'. I slipped out. I didn't tell 'em I wasn't comin' back, else + they'd pretend I couldn't come—though I'm thinkin' they won't do no + worryin' when I don't show up sometime. They ain't like FOLKS, ye know. + They don't CARE!” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” nodded Pollyanna, with understanding eyes. “But I'm sure, when I + see you to-morrow, I'll have just a common home and folks that do care all + ready for you. Good-by!” she called brightly, as she turned back toward + the house. + </p> + <p> + In the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been + watching the two children, followed with sombre eyes the boy until a bend + of the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, turned, and walked + listlesly up-stairs—and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. + In her ears still was the boy's scornful “you was so good and kind.” In + her heart was a curious sense of desolation—as of something lost. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. BEFORE THE LADIES' AID + </h2> + <p> + Dinner, which came at noon in the Harrington homestead, was a silent meal + on the day of the Ladies' Aid meeting. Pollyanna, it is true, tried to + talk; but she did not make a success of it, chiefly because four times she + was obliged to break off a “glad” in the middle of it, much to her + blushing discomfort. The fifth time it happened, Miss Polly moved her head + wearily. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, child, say it, if you want to,” she sighed. “I'm sure I'd + rather you did than not if it's going to make all this fuss.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's puckered little face cleared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you. I'm afraid it would be pretty hard—not to say it. + You see I've played it so long.” + </p> + <p> + “You've—what?” demanded Aunt Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Played it—the game, you know, that father—” Pollyanna stopped + with a painful blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden ground. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest of the meal was a silent + one. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was not sorry to hear Aunt Polly tell the minister's wife over + the telephone, a little later, that she would not be at the Ladies' Aid + meeting that afternoon, owing to a headache. When Aunt Polly went + up-stairs to her room and closed the door, Pollyanna tried to be sorry for + the headache; but she could not help feeling glad that her aunt was not to + be present that afternoon when she laid the case of Jimmy Bean before the + Ladies' Aid. She could not forget that Aunt Polly had called Jimmy Bean a + little beggar; and she did not want Aunt Polly to call him that—before + the Ladies' Aid. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna knew that the Ladies' Aid met at two o'clock in the chapel next + the church, not quite half a mile from home. She planned her going, + therefore, so that she should get there a little before three. + </p> + <p> + “I want them all to be there,” she said to herself; “else the very one + that wasn't there might be the one who would be wanting to give Jimmy Bean + a home; and, of course, two o'clock always means three, really—to + Ladies' Aiders.” + </p> + <p> + Quietly, but with confident courage, Pollyanna ascended the chapel steps, + pushed open the door and entered the vestibule. A soft babel of feminine + chatter and laughter came from the main room. Hesitating only a brief + moment Pollyanna pushed open one of the inner doors. + </p> + <p> + The chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Pollyanna advanced a little + timidly. Now that the time had come, she felt unwontedly shy. After all, + these half-strange, half-familiar faces about her were not her own dear + Ladies' Aid. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Ladies' Aiders?” she faltered politely. “I'm Pollyanna + Whittier. I—I reckon some of you know me, maybe; anyway, I do YOU—only + I don't know you all together this way.” + </p> + <p> + The silence could almost be felt now. Some of the ladies did know this + rather extraordinary niece of their fellow-member, and nearly all had + heard of her; but not one of them could think of anything to say, just + then. + </p> + <p> + “I—I've come to—to lay the case before you,” stammered + Pollyanna, after a moment, unconsciously falling into her father's + familiar phraseology. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight rustle. + </p> + <p> + “Did—did your aunt send you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Ford, the + minister's wife. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna colored a little. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I came all by myself. You see, I'm used to Ladies' Aiders. It was + Ladies' Aiders that brought me up—with father.” + </p> + <p> + Somebody tittered hysterically, and the minister's wife frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it—it's Jimmy Bean,” sighed Pollyanna. “He hasn't any home + except the Orphan one, and they're full, and don't want him, anyhow, he + thinks; so he wants another. He wants one of the common kind, that has a + mother instead of a Matron in it—folks, you know, that'll care. He's + ten years old going on eleven. I thought some of you might like him—to + live with you, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did you ever!” murmured a voice, breaking the dazed pause that + followed Pollyanna's words. + </p> + <p> + With anxious eyes Pollyanna swept the circle of faces about her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot to say; he will work,” she supplemented eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Still there was silence; then, coldly, one or two women began to question + her. After a time they all had the story and began to talk among + themselves, animatedly, not quite pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna listened with growing anxiety. Some of what was said she could + not understand. She did gather, after a time, however, that there was no + woman there who had a home to give him, though every woman seemed to think + that some of the others might take him, as there were several who had no + little boys of their own already in their homes. But there was no one who + agreed herself to take him. Then she heard the minister's wife suggest + timidly that they, as a society, might perhaps assume his support and + education instead of sending quite so much money this year to the little + boys in far-away India. + </p> + <p> + A great many ladies talked then, and several of them talked all at once, + and even more loudly and more unpleasantly than before. It seemed that + their society was famous for its offering to Hindu missions, and several + said they should die of mortification if it should be less this year. Some + of what was said at this time Pollyanna again thought she could not have + understood, too, for it sounded almost as if they did not care at all what + the money DID, so long as the sum opposite the name of their society in a + certain “report” “headed the list”—and of course that could not be + what they meant at all! But it was all very confusing, and not quite + pleasant, so that Pollyanna was glad, indeed, when at last she found + herself outside in the hushed, sweet air—only she was very sorry, + too: for she knew it was not going to be easy, or anything but sad, to + tell Jimmy Bean to-morrow that the Ladies' Aid had decided that they would + rather send all their money to bring up the little India boys than to save + out enough to bring up one little boy in their own town, for which they + would not get “a bit of credit in the report,” according to the tall lady + who wore spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Not but that it's good, of course, to send money to the heathen, and I + shouldn't want 'em not to send SOME there,” sighed Pollyanna to herself, + as she trudged sorrowfully along. “But they acted as if little boys HERE + weren't any account—only little boys 'way off. I should THINK, + though, they'd rather see Jimmy Bean grow—than just a report!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. IN PENDLETON WOODS + </h2> + <p> + Pollyanna had not turned her steps toward home, when she left the chapel. + She had turned them, instead, toward Pendleton Hill. It had been a hard + day, for all it had been a “vacation one” (as she termed the infrequent + days when there was no sewing or cooking lesson), and Pollyanna was sure + that nothing would do her quite so much good as a walk through the green + quiet of Pendleton Woods. Up Pendleton Hill, therefore, she climbed + steadily, in spite of the warm sun on her back. + </p> + <p> + “I don't have to get home till half-past five, anyway,” she was telling + herself; “and it'll be so much nicer to go around by the way of the woods, + even if I do have to climb to get there.” + </p> + <p> + It was very beautiful in the Pendleton Woods, as Pollyanna knew by + experience. But to-day it seemed even more delightful than ever, + notwithstanding her disappointment over what she must tell Jimmy Bean + to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “I wish they were up here—all those ladies who talked so loud,” + sighed Pollyanna to herself, raising her eyes to the patches of vivid blue + between the sunlit green of the tree-tops. “Anyhow, if they were up here, + I just reckon they'd change and take Jimmy Bean for their little boy, all + right,” she finished, secure in her conviction, but unable to give a + reason for it, even to herself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked some + distance ahead. A moment later he came dashing toward her, still barking. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, doggie—hullo!” Pollyanna snapped her fingers at the dog and + looked expectantly down the path. She had seen the dog once before, she + was sure. He had been then with the Man, Mr. John Pendleton. She was + looking now, hoping to see him. For some minutes she watched eagerly, but + he did not appear. Then she turned her attention toward the dog. + </p> + <p> + The dog, as even Pollyanna could see, was acting strangely. He was still + barking—giving little short, sharp yelps, as if of alarm. He was + running back and forth, too, in the path ahead. Soon they reached a side + path, and down this the little dog fairly flew, only to come back at once, + whining and barking. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! That isn't the way home,” laughed Pollyanna, still keeping to the + main path. + </p> + <p> + The little dog seemed frantic now. Back and forth, back and forth, between + Pollyanna and the side path he vibrated, barking and whining pitifully. + Every quiver of his little brown body, and every glance from his + beseeching brown eyes were eloquent with appeal—so eloquent that at + last Pollyanna understood, turned, and followed him. + </p> + <p> + Straight ahead, now, the little dog dashed madly; and it was not long + before Pollyanna came upon the reason for it all: a man lying motionless + at the foot of a steep, overhanging mass of rock a few yards from the side + path. + </p> + <p> + A twig cracked sharply under Pollyanna's foot, and the man turned his + head. With a cry of dismay Pollyanna ran to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton! Oh, are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt? Oh, no! I'm just taking a siesta in the sunshine,” snapped the man + irritably. “See here, how much do you know? What can you do? Have you got + any sense?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna caught her breath with a little gasp, but—as was her habit—she + answered the questions literally, one by one. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, I—I don't know so very much, and I can't do a + great many things; but most of the Ladies' Aiders, except Mrs. Rawson, + said I had real good sense. I heard 'em say so one day—they didn't + know I heard, though.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, child, I beg your pardon, I'm sure; it's only this + confounded leg of mine. Now listen.” He paused, and with some difficulty + reached his hand into his trousers pocket and brought out a bunch of keys, + singling out one between his thumb and forefinger. “Straight through the + path there, about five minutes' walk, is my house. This key will admit you + to the side door under the porte-cochere. Do you know what a porte-cochere + is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir. Auntie has one with a sun parlor over it. That's the roof I + slept on—only I didn't sleep, you know. They found me.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh! Well, when you get into the house, go straight through the + vestibule and hall to the door at the end. On the big, flat-topped desk in + the middle of the room you'll find a telephone. Do you know how to use a + telephone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir! Why, once when Aunt Polly—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind Aunt Polly now,” cut in the man scowlingly, as he tried to + move himself a little. + </p> + <p> + “Hunt up Dr. Thomas Chilton's number on the card you'll find somewhere + around there—it ought to be on the hook down at the side, but it + probably won't be. You know a telephone card, I suppose, when you see + one!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir! I just love Aunt Polly's. There's such a lot of queer + names, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell Dr. Chilton that John Pendleton is at the foot of Little Eagle Ledge + in Pendleton Woods with a broken leg, and to come at once with a stretcher + and two men. He'll know what to do besides that. Tell him to come by the + path from the house.” + </p> + <p> + “A broken leg? Oh, Mr. Pendleton, how perfectly awful!” shuddered + Pollyanna. “But I'm so glad I came! Can't <i>I</i> do—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can—but evidently you won't! WILL you go and do what I ask + and stop talking,” moaned the man, faintly. And, with a little sobbing + cry, Pollyanna went. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna did not stop now to look up at the patches of blue between the + sunlit tops of the trees. She kept her eyes on the ground to make sure + that no twig nor stone tripped her hurrying feet. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before she came in sight of the house. She had seen it + before, though never so near as this. She was almost frightened now at the + massiveness of the great pile of gray stone with its pillared verandas and + its imposing entrance. Pausing only a moment, however, she sped across the + big neglected lawn and around the house to the side door under the + porte-cochere. Her fingers, stiff from their tight clutch upon the keys, + were anything but skilful in their efforts to turn the bolt in the lock; + but at last the heavy, carved door swung slowly back on its hinges. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna caught her breath. In spite of her feeling of haste, she paused + a moment and looked fearfully through the vestibule to the wide, sombre + hall beyond, her thoughts in a whirl. This was John Pendleton's house; the + house of mystery; the house into which no one but its master entered; the + house which sheltered, somewhere—a skeleton. Yet she, Pollyanna, was + expected to enter alone these fearsome rooms, and telephone the doctor + that the master of the house lay now— + </p> + <p> + With a little cry Pollyanna, looking neither to the right nor the left, + fairly ran through the hall to the door at the end and opened it. + </p> + <p> + The room was large, and sombre with dark woods and hangings like the hall; + but through the west window the sun threw a long shaft of gold across the + floor, gleamed dully on the tarnished brass andirons in the fireplace, and + touched the nickel of the telephone on the great desk in the middle of the + room. It was toward this desk that Pollyanna hurriedly tiptoed. + </p> + <p> + The telephone card was not on its hook; it was on the floor. But Pollyanna + found it, and ran her shaking forefinger down through the C's to + “Chilton.” In due time she had Dr. Chilton himself at the other end of the + wires, and was tremblingly delivering her message and answering the + doctor's terse, pertinent questions. This done, she hung up the receiver + and drew a long breath of relief. + </p> + <p> + Only a brief glance did Pollyanna give about her; then, with a confused + vision in her eyes of crimson draperies, book-lined walls, a littered + floor, an untidy desk, innumerable closed doors (any one of which might + conceal a skeleton), and everywhere dust, dust, dust, she fled back + through the hall to the great carved door, still half open as she had left + it. + </p> + <p> + In what seemed, even to the injured man, an incredibly short time, + Pollyanna was back in the woods at the man's side. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is the trouble? Couldn't you get in?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna opened wide her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course I could! I'm HERE,” she answered. “As if I'd be here if I + hadn't got in! And the doctor will be right up just as soon as possible + with the men and things. He said he knew just where you were, so I didn't + stay to show him. I wanted to be with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” smiled the man, grimly. “Well, I can't say I admire your taste. + I should think you might find pleasanter companions.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—because you're so—cross?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for your frankness. Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “But you're only cross OUTSIDE—You arn't cross inside a bit!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! How do you know that?” asked the man, trying to change the + position of his head without moving the rest of his body. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lots of ways; there—like that—the way you act with the + dog,” she added, pointing to the long, slender hand that rested on the + dog's sleek head near him. “It's funny how dogs and cats know the insides + of folks better than other folks do, isn't it? Say, I'm going to hold your + head,” she finished abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The man winced several times and groaned once; softly while the change was + being made; but in the end he found Pollyanna's lap a very welcome + substitute for the rocky hollow in which his head had lain before. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is—better,” he murmured faintly. + </p> + <p> + He did not speak again for some time. Pollyanna, watching his face, + wondered if he were asleep. She did not think he was. He looked as if his + lips were tight shut to keep back moans of pain. Pollyanna herself almost + cried aloud as she looked at his great, strong body lying there so + helpless. One hand, with fingers tightly clenched, lay outflung, + motionless. The other, limply open, lay on the dog's head. The dog, his + wistful, eager eyes on his master's face, was motionless, too. + </p> + <p> + Minute by minute the time passed. The sun dropped lower in the west and + the shadows grew deeper under the trees. Pollyanna sat so still she hardly + seemed to breathe. A bird alighted fearlessly within reach of her hand, + and a squirrel whisked his bushy tail on a tree-branch almost under her + nose—yet with his bright little eyes all the while on the motionless + dog. + </p> + <p> + At last the dog pricked up his ears and whined softly; then he gave a + short, sharp bark. The next moment Pollyanna heard voices, and very soon + their owners appeared three men carrying a stretcher and various other + articles. + </p> + <p> + The tallest of the party—a smooth-shaven, kind-eyed man whom + Pollyanna knew by sight as “Dr. Chilton”—advanced cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my little lady, playing nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “I've only held his head—I haven't + given him a mite of medicine. But I'm glad I was here.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” nodded the doctor, as he turned his absorbed attention to the + injured man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. JUST A MATTER OF JELLY + </h2> + <p> + Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to + John Pendleton; but, as it happened, she escaped without reproof. + </p> + <p> + Nancy met her at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I ain't glad ter be settin' my two eyes on you,” she sighed in + obvious relief. “It's half-past six!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” admitted Pollyanna anxiously; “but I'm not to blame—truly + I'm not. And I don't think even Aunt Polly will say I am, either.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't have the chance,” retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction. + “She's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” gasped Pollyanna. “You don't mean that I've driven her away?” + Through Pollyanna's mind at the moment trooped remorseful memories of the + morning with its unwanted boy, cat, and dog, and its unwelcome “glad” and + forbidden “father” that would spring to her forgetful little tongue. “Oh, + I DIDN'T drive her away?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much you did,” scoffed Nancy. “Her cousin died suddenly down to + Boston, and she had ter go. She had one o' them yeller telegram letters + after you went away this afternoon, and she won't be back for three days. + Now I guess we're glad all right. We'll be keepin' house tergether, jest + you and me, all that time. We will, we will!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Glad! Oh, Nancy, when it's a funeral?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but 'twa'n't the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna. It was—” + Nancy stopped abruptly. A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes. “Why, Miss + Pollyanna, as if it wa'n't yerself that was teachin' me ter play the + game,” she reproached her gravely. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it, Nancy,” she argued with a shake of her head. “It must be + that there are some things that 'tisn't right to play the game on—and + I'm sure funerals is one of them. There's nothing in a funeral to be glad + about.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “We can be glad 'tain't our'n,” she observed demurely. But Pollyanna did + not hear. She had begun to tell of the accident; and in a moment Nancy, + open-mouthed, was listening. + </p> + <p> + At the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy Bean + according to agreement. As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed + keen disappointment that the Ladies' Aid preferred a little India boy to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe 'tis natural,” he sighed. “Of course things you don't know + about are always nicer'n things you do, same as the pertater on 'tother + side of the plate is always the biggest. But I wish I looked that way ter + somebody 'way off. Wouldn't it be jest great, now, if only somebody over + in India wanted ME?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course! That's the very thing, Jimmy! I'll write to my Ladies' + Aiders about you. They aren't over in India; they're only out West—but + that's awful far away, just the same. I reckon you'd think so if you'd + come all the way here as I did!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy's face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they would—truly—take me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they would! Don't they take little boys in India to bring up? + Well, they can just play you are the little India boy this time. I reckon + you're far enough away to make a report, all right. You wait. I'll write + 'em. I'll write Mrs. White. No, I'll write Mrs. Jones. Mrs. White has got + the most money, but Mrs. Jones gives the most—which is kind of + funny, isn't it?—when you think of it. But I reckon some of the + Aiders will take you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right—but don't furgit ter say I'll work fur my board an' + keep,” put in Jimmy. “I ain't no beggar, an' biz'ness is biz'ness, even + with Ladies' Aiders, I'm thinkin'.” He hesitated, then added: “An' I + s'pose I better stay where I be fur a spell yet—till you hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” nodded Pollyanna emphatically. “Then I'll know just where to + find you. And they'll take you—I'm sure you're far enough away for + that. Didn't Aunt Polly take—Say!” she broke off, suddenly, “DO you + suppose I was Aunt Polly's little girl from India?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you ain't the queerest kid,” grinned Jimmy, as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + It was about a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that Pollyanna + said to her aunt one morning: + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly, please would you mind very much if I took Mrs. Snow's + calf's-foot jelly this week to some one else? I'm sure Mrs. Snow wouldn't—this + once.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now?” sighed her aunt. “You ARE + the most extraordinary child!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you're EXtraordinary you + can't be ORdinary, can you?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly can not.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right, then. I'm glad I'm EXtraordinary,” sighed + Pollyanna, her face clearing. “You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs. Rawson + was a very ordinary woman—and she disliked Mrs. Rawson something + awful. They were always fight—I mean, father had—that is, I + mean, WE had more trouble keeping peace between them than we did between + any of the rest of the Aiders,” corrected Pollyanna, a little breathless + from her efforts to steer between the Scylla of her father's past commands + in regard to speaking of church quarrels, and the Charybdis of her aunt's + present commands in regard to speaking of her father. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; well, never mind,” interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle impatiently. + “You do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter what we're talking about you + always bring up at those Ladies' Aiders!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, “I reckon I do, maybe. But you see + they used to bring me up, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Pollyanna,” interrupted a cold voice. “Now what is it about + this jelly?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, I'm sure. You let me + take jelly to HER, so I thought you would to HIM—this once. You see, + broken legs aren't like—like lifelong invalids, so his won't last + forever as Mrs. Snow's does, and she can have all the rest of the things + after just once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “'Him'? 'He'? 'Broken leg'? What are you talking about, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stared; then her face relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn't know. You see, it happened while you + were gone. It was the very day you went that I found him in the woods, you + know; and I had to unlock his house and telephone for the men and the + doctor, and hold his head, and everything. And of course then I came away + and haven't seen him since. But when Nancy made the jelly for Mrs. Snow + this week I thought how nice it would be if I could take it to him instead + of her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I suppose so,” acquiesced Miss Polly, a little wearily. “Who + did you say he was?” + </p> + <p> + “The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair. + </p> + <p> + “JOHN PENDLETON!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU know him?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles—now. He's only cross OUTSIDE, + you know. I'll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it 'most fixed when I came + in,” finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, wait! Miss Polly's voice was suddenly very stern. I've changed + my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly to-day—as + usual. That is all. You may go now.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but Aunt Polly, HERS will last. She can always be sick and have + things, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs don't last—I + mean, broken ones. He's had it a whole week now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident,” + said Miss Polly, a little stiffly; “but—I do not care to be sending + jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, he is cross—outside,” admitted Pollyanna, sadly, “so I + suppose you don't like him. But I wouldn't say 'twas you sent it. I'd say + 'twas me. I like him. I'd be glad to send him jelly.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and + asked in a curiously quiet voice: + </p> + <p> + “Does he know who you—are, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + The little girl sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me it—never.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know where you—live?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I never told him that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he doesn't know you're my—niece?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with + eyes that did not seem to see her at all. The little girl, shifting + impatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly. Then Miss + Polly roused herself with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Pollyanna,” she said at last, still in that queer voice, so + unlike her own; “you may you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your + own gift. But understand: I do not send it. Be very sure that he does not + think I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm—no'm—thank you, Aunt Polly,” exulted Pollyanna, as she + flew through the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. DR. CHILTON + </h2> + <p> + The great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when she + made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows were + open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the back yard, and the + doctor's gig stood under the porte-cochere. + </p> + <p> + As before Pollyanna went to the side door. This time she rang the bell—her + fingers were not stiff to-day from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys. + </p> + <p> + A familiar-looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her, but there + was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the clothes + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, I've brought some calf's-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” + smiled Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girl's + hand. “Who shall I say sent it? And it's calf's-foot jelly?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the woman's words + and saw the disappointed look on Pollyanna's face. He stepped quickly + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Some calf's-foot jelly?” he asked genially. “That will be fine! Maybe + you'd like to see our patient, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna; and the woman, in obedience to a nod + from the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with + vast surprise on her face. + </p> + <p> + Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city) + gave a disturbed exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “But, Doctor, didn't Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit—any + one?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor, imperturbably. “But I'm giving orders now. + I'll take the risk.” Then he added whimsically: “You don't know, of + course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic + any day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton this + afternoon, she can. That's why I sent her in.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + For one brief moment the doctor hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “She's the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is Pollyanna + Whittier. I—I don't happen to enjoy a very extensive personal + acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients do—I'm + thankful to say!” + </p> + <p> + The nurse smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this wonder-working—tonic + of hers?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming, + unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to + happen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated to + me, and, as near as I can make out, 'just being glad' is the tenor of most + of them. All is,” he added, with another whimsical smile, as he stepped + out on to the porch, “I wish I could prescribe her—and buy her—as + I would a box of pills;—though if there gets to be many of her in + the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and ditch-digging + for all the money we'd get out of nursing and doctoring,” he laughed, + picking up the reins and stepping into the gig. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor's orders, was being + escorted to John Pendleton's rooms. + </p> + <p> + Her way led through the great library at the end of the hall, and, rapid + as was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes + had taken place. The book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the + same; but there was no litter on the floor, no untidiness on the desk, and + not so much as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card hung in its + proper place, and the brass andirons had been polished. One of the + mysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the + way. A moment later Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished + bedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice: + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, here—here's a little girl with some jelly. The + doctor said I was to—to bring her in.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking + man lying flat on his back in bed. + </p> + <p> + “See here, didn't I say—” began an angry voice. “Oh, it's you!” it + broke off not very graciously, as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “Oh, I'm so glad they let me in! You see, at + first the lady 'most took my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn't going to + see you at all. Then the doctor came, and he said I might. Wasn't he + lovely to let me see you?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself the man's lips twitched into a smile; but all he said + was “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + “And I've brought you some jelly,” resumed Pollyanna; “—calf's-foot. + I hope you like it?” There was a rising inflection in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Never ate it.” The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back + to the man's face. + </p> + <p> + For a brief instant Pollyanna's countenance showed disappointment; but it + cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you? Well, if you didn't, then you can't know you DON'T like it, + anyhow, can you? So I reckon I'm glad you haven't, after all. Now, if you + knew—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; well, there's one thing I know all right, and that is that I'm + flat on my back right here this minute, and that I'm liable to stay here—till + doomsday, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! It couldn't be till doomsday, you know, when the angel Gabriel + blows his trumpet, unless it should come quicker than we think it will—oh, + of course, I know the Bible says it may come quicker than we think, but I + don't think it will—that is, of course I believe the Bible; but I + mean I don't think it will come as much quicker as it would if it should + come now, and—” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton laughed suddenly—and aloud. The nurse, coming in at + that moment, heard the laugh, and beat a hurried—but a very silent—retreat. + He had the air of a frightened cook who, seeing the danger of a breath of + cold air striking a half-done cake, hastily shuts the oven door. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you getting a little mixed?” asked John Pendleton of Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + The little girl laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe. But what I mean is, that legs don't last—broken ones, you + know—like lifelong invalids, same as Mrs. Snow has got. So yours + won't last till doomsday at all. I should think you could be glad of + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am,” retorted the man grimly. + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't break but one. You can be glad 'twasn't two.” Pollyanna + was warming to her task. + </p> + <p> + “Of course! So fortunate,” sniffed the man, with uplifted eyebrows; + “looking at it from that standpoint, I suppose I might be glad I wasn't a + centipede and didn't break fifty!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's the best yet,” she crowed. “I know what a centipede is; + they've got lots of legs. And you can be glad—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” interrupted the man, sharply, all the old bitterness + coming back to his voice; “I can be glad, too, for all the rest, I suppose—the + nurse, and the doctor, and that confounded woman in the kitchen!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir—only think how bad 'twould be if you DIDN'T have + them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—eh?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I say, only think how bad it would be if you didn't have 'em—and + you lying here like this!” + </p> + <p> + “As if that wasn't the very thing that was at the bottom of the whole + matter,” retorted the man, testily, “because I am lying here like this! + And yet you expect me to say I'm glad because of a fool woman who + disarranges the whole house and calls it 'regulating,' and a man who aids + and abets her in it, and calls it 'nursing,' to say nothing of the doctor + who eggs 'em both on—and the whole bunch of them, meanwhile, + expecting me to pay them for it, and pay them well, too!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. THAT part is too bad—about the money—when you've + been saving it, too, all this time.” + </p> + <p> + “When—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Saving it—buying beans and fish balls, you know. Say, DO you like + beans?—or do you like turkey better, only on account of the sixty + cents?” + </p> + <p> + “Look a-here, child, what are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna smiled radiantly. + </p> + <p> + “About your money, you know—denying yourself, and saving it for the + heathen. You see, I found out about it. Why, Mr. Pendleton, that's one of + the ways I knew you weren't cross inside. Nancy told me.” + </p> + <p> + The man's jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy told you I was saving money for the—Well, may I inquire who + Nancy is?” + </p> + <p> + “Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?” + </p> + <p> + “She's Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.” + </p> + <p> + The man made a sudden movement. + </p> + <p> + “Miss—Polly—Harrington!” he breathed. “You live with—HER!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I'm her niece. She's taken me to bring up—on account of my + mother, you know,” faltered Pollyanna, in a low voice. “She was her + sister. And after father—went to be with her and the rest of us in + Heaven, there wasn't any one left for me down here but the Ladies' Aid; so + she took me.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not answer. His face, as he lay back on the pillow now, was + very white—so white that Pollyanna was frightened. She rose + uncertainly to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon maybe I'd better go now,” she proposed. “I—I hope you'll + like—the jelly.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned his head suddenly, and opened his eyes. There was a curious + longing in their dark depths which even Pollyanna saw, and at which she + marvelled. + </p> + <p> + “And so you are—Miss Polly Harrington's niece,” he said gently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Still the man's dark eyes lingered on her face, until Pollyanna, feeling + vaguely restless, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “I—I suppose you know—her.” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton's lips curved in an odd smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; I know her.” He hesitated, then went on, still with that curious + smile. “But—you don't mean—you can't mean that it was Miss + Polly Harrington who sent that jelly—to me?” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “N-no, sir: she didn't. She said I must be very sure not to let you think + she did send it. But I—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” vouchsafed the man, shortly, turning away his head. + And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room. + </p> + <p> + Under the porte-cochere she found the doctor waiting in his gig. The nurse + stood on the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure of seeing you home?” asked + the doctor smilingly. “I started to drive on a few minutes ago; then it + occurred to me that I'd wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. I'm glad you did. I just love to ride,” beamed Pollyanna, + as he reached out his hand to help her in. + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” smiled the doctor, nodding his head in farewell to the young man + on the steps. “Well, as near as I can judge, there are a good many things + you 'love' to do—eh?” he added, as they drove briskly away. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know. I reckon perhaps there are,” she admitted. “I like to + do 'most everything that's LIVING. Of course I don't like the other things + very well—sewing, and reading out loud, and all that. But THEY + aren't LIVING.” + </p> + <p> + “No? What are they, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly says they're 'learning to live,'” sighed Pollyanna, with a + rueful smile. + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled now—a little queerly. + </p> + <p> + “Does she? Well, I should think she might say—just that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded Pollyanna. “But I don't see it that way at all. I don't + think you have to LEARN how to live. I didn't, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor drew a long sigh. + </p> + <p> + “After all, I'm afraid some of us—do have to, little girl,” he said. + Then, for a time he was silent. Pollyanna, stealing a glance at his face, + felt vaguely sorry for him. He looked so sad. She wished, uneasily, that + she could “do something.” It was this, perhaps, that caused her to say in + a timid voice: + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would, be the very gladdest + kind of a business there was.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “'Gladdest'!—when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go?” + he cried. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I know; but you're HELPING it—don't you see?—and of course + you're glad to help it! And so that makes you the gladdest of any of us, + all the time.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor's eyes filled with sudden hot tears. The doctor's life was a + singularly lonely one. He had no wife and no home save his two-room office + in a boarding house. His profession was very dear to him. Looking now into + Pollyanna's shining eyes, he felt as if a loving hand had been suddenly + laid on his head in blessing. He knew, too, that never again would a long + day's work or a long night's weariness be quite without that new-found + exaltation that had come to him through Pollyanna's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, little girl,” he said unsteadily. Then, with the bright + smile his patients knew and loved so well, he added: “And I'm thinking, + after all, that it was the doctor, quite as much as his patients, that + needed a draft of that tonic!” All of which puzzled Pollyanna very much—until + a chipmunk, running across the road, drove the whole matter from her mind. + </p> + <p> + The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, who was + sweeping off the front porch, then drove rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + “I've had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor,” announced + Pollyanna, bounding up the steps. “He's lovely, Nancy!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I told him I should think his business would be the very + gladdest one there was.” + </p> + <p> + “What!—goin' ter see sick folks—an' folks what ain't sick but + thinks they is, which is worse?” Nancy's face showed open skepticism. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's 'most what he said, too; but there is a way to be glad, even + then. Guess!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy frowned in meditation. Nancy was getting so she could play this game + of “being glad” quite successfully, she thought. She rather enjoyed + studying out Pollyanna's “posers,” too, as she called some of the little + girl's questions. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know,” she chuckled. “It's just the opposite from what you told + Mis' Snow.” + </p> + <p> + “Opposite?” repeated Pollyanna, obviously puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You told her she could be glad because other folks wasn't like her—all + sick, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” nodded Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the doctor can be glad because he isn't like other folks—the + sick ones, I mean, what he doctors,” finished Nancy in triumph. + </p> + <p> + It was Pollyanna's turn to frown. + </p> + <p> + “Why, y-yes,” she admitted. “Of course that IS one way, but it isn't the + way I said; and—someway, I don't seem to quite like the sound of it. + It isn't exactly as if he said he was glad they WERE sick, but—You + do play the game so funny, sometimes Nancy,” she sighed, as she went into + the house. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man—the one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna?” + questioned the lady a little sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton! Don't you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton! What was he doing—here?” + </p> + <p> + “He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly lifted her head quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink. + </p> + <p> + “You TOLD him I didn't!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna opened wide her eyes at the remonstrative dismay in her aunt's + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, you SAID to!” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I SAID, Pollyanna, that I did not send it, and for you to be very sure + that he did not think I DID!—which is a very different matter from + TELLING him outright that I did not send it.” And she turned vexedly away. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! Well, I don't see where the difference is,” sighed Pollyanna, as + she went to hang her hat on the one particular hook in the house upon + which Aunt Polly had said that it must be hung. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. A RED ROSE AND A LACE SHAWL + </h2> + <p> + It was on a rainy day about a week after Pollyanna's visit to Mr. John + Pendleton, that Miss Polly was driven by Timothy to an early afternoon + committee meeting of the Ladies' Aid Society. When she returned at three + o'clock, her cheeks were a bright, pretty pink, and her hair, blown by the + damp wind, had fluffed into kinks and curls wherever the loosened pins had + given leave. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh—oh! Why, Aunt Polly, you've got 'em, too,” she cried + rapturously, dancing round and round her aunt, as that lady entered the + sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “Got what, you impossible child?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna was still revolving round and round her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “And I never knew you had 'em! Can folks have 'em when you don't know + they've got 'em? DO you suppose I could?—'fore I get to Heaven, I + mean,” she cried, pulling out with eager fingers the straight locks above + her ears. “But then, they wouldn't be black, if they did come. You can't + hide the black part.” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, what does all this mean?” demanded Aunt Polly, hurriedly + removing her hat, and trying to smooth back her disordered hair. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—please, Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna's jubilant voice turned to + one of distressed appeal. “Don't smooth 'em out! It's those that I'm + talking about—those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt Polly, + they're so pretty!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies' Aid the + other day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy?” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't nonsense,” urged Pollyanna, answering only the first of her + aunt's remarks. “You don't know how pretty you look with your hair like + that! Oh, Aunt Polly, please, mayn't I do your hair like I did Mrs. + Snow's, and put in a flower? I'd so love to see you that way! Why, you'd + be ever so much prettier than she was!” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” (Miss Polly spoke very sharply—all the more sharply + because Pollyanna's words had given her an odd throb of joy: when before + had anybody cared how she, or her hair looked? When before had anybody + “loved” to see her “pretty”?) “Pollyanna, you did not answer my question. + Why did you go to the Ladies' Aid in that absurd fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, I know; but, please, I didn't know it was absurd until I went and + found out they'd rather see their report grow than Jimmy. So then I wrote + to MY Ladies' Aiders—'cause Jimmy is far away from them, you know; + and I thought maybe he could be their little India boy same as—Aunt + Polly, WAS I your little India girl? And, Aunt Polly, you WILL let me do + your hair, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat—the old, helpless feeling was + upon her, she knew. + </p> + <p> + “But, Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to + them, I was so ashamed! I—” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't!—You didn't say I COULDN'T do your hair,” she crowed + triumphantly; “and so I'm sure it means just the other way 'round, sort of—like + it did the other day about Mr. Pendleton's jelly that you didn't send, but + didn't want me to say you didn't send, you know. Now wait just where you + are. I'll get a comb.” + </p> + <p> + “But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the little + girl from the room and panting up-stairs after her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did you come up here?” Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss + Polly's own room. “That'll be nicer yet! I've got the comb. Now sit down, + please, right here. Oh, I'm so glad you let me do it!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Pollyanna, I—I—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly did not finish her sentence. To her helpless amazement she + found herself in the low chair before the dressing table, with her hair + already tumbling about her ears under ten eager, but very gentle fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my! what pretty hair you've got,” prattled Pollyanna; “and there's so + much more of it than Mrs. Snow has, too! But, of course, you need more, + anyhow, because you're well and can go to places where folks can see it. + My! I reckon folks'll be glad when they do see it—and surprised, + too, 'cause you've hid it so long. Why, Aunt Polly, I'll make you so + pretty everybody'll just love to look at you!” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” gasped a stifled but shocked voice from a veil of hair. “I—I'm + sure I don't know why I'm letting you do this silly thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you'd be glad to have folks like to look + at you! Don't you like to look at pretty things? I'm ever so much happier + when I look at pretty folks, 'cause when I look at the other kind I'm so + sorry for them.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but—” + </p> + <p> + “And I just love to do folks' hair,” purred Pollyanna, contentedly. “I did + quite a lot of the Ladies' Aiders'—but there wasn't any of them so + nice as yours. Mrs. White's was pretty nice, though, and she looked just + lovely one day when I dressed her up in—Oh, Aunt Polly, I've just + happened to think of something! But it's a secret, and I sha'n't tell. Now + your hair is almost done, and pretty quick I'm going to leave you just a + minute; and you must promise—promise—PROMISE not to stir nor + peek, even, till I come back. Now remember!” she finished, as she ran from + the room. + </p> + <p> + Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she said that of course she + should at once undo the absurd work of her niece's fingers, and put her + hair up properly again. As for “peeking” just as if she cared how— + </p> + <p> + At that moment—unaccountably—Miss Polly caught a glimpse of + herself in the mirror of the dressing table. And what she saw sent such a + flush of rosy color to her cheeks that—she only flushed the more at + the sight. + </p> + <p> + She saw a face—not young, it is true—but just now alight with + excitement and surprise. The cheeks were a pretty pink. The eyes sparkled. + The hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay in loose waves + about the forehead and curved back over the ears in wonderfully becoming + lines, with softening little curls here and there. + </p> + <p> + So amazed and so absorbed was Miss Polly with what she saw in the glass + that she quite forgot her determination to do over her hair, until she + heard Pollyanna enter the room again. Before she could move, then, she + felt a folded something slipped across her eyes and tied in the back. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, Pollyanna! What are you doing?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I don't want you to know, Aunt Polly, and I was afraid + you WOULD peek, so I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit still. It won't + take but just a minute, then I'll let you see.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Pollyanna,” began Miss Polly, struggling blindly to her feet, “you + must take this off! You—child, child! what ARE you doing?” she + gasped, as she felt a soft something slipped about her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna only chuckled the more gleefully. With trembling fingers she was + draping about her aunt's shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful lace + shawl, yellowed from long years of packing away, and fragrant with + lavender. Pollyanna had found the shawl the week before when Nancy had + been regulating the attic; and it had occurred to her to-day that there + was no reason why her aunt, as well as Mrs. White of her Western home, + should not be “dressed up.” + </p> + <p> + Her task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that approved, + but that saw yet one touch wanting. Promptly, therefore, she pulled her + aunt toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated red rose blooming + on the trellis within reach of her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to?” recoiled Aunt + Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back. “Pollyanna, I shall not—” + </p> + <p> + “It's just to the sun parlor—only a minute! I'll have you ready now + quicker'n no time,” panted Pollyanna, reaching for the rose and thrusting + it into the soft hair above Miss Polly's left ear. “There!” she exulted, + untying the knot of the handkerchief and flinging the bit of linen far + from her. “Oh, Aunt Polly, now I reckon you'll be glad I dressed you up!” + </p> + <p> + For one dazed moment Miss Polly looked at her bedecked self, and at her + surroundings; then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna, + following the direction of her aunt's last dismayed gaze, saw, through the + open windows of the sun parlor, the horse and gig turning into the + driveway. She recognized at once the man who held the reins. Delightedly + she leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me? I'm up here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “Will you come down, please?” + </p> + <p> + In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed woman plucking + at the pins that held a lace shawl in place. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, how could you?” moaned the woman. “To think of your rigging me + up like this, and then letting me—BE SEEN!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stopped in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “But you looked lovely—perfectly lovely, Aunt Polly; and—” + </p> + <p> + “'Lovely'!” scorned the woman, flinging the shawl to one side and + attacking her hair with shaking fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let the hair stay!” + </p> + <p> + “Stay? Like this? As if I would!” And Miss Polly pulled the locks so + tightly back that the last curl lay stretched dead at the ends of her + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “O dear! And you did look so pretty,” almost sobbed Pollyanna, as she + stumbled through the door. + </p> + <p> + Down-stairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting in his gig. + </p> + <p> + “I've prescribed you for a patient, and he's sent me to get the + prescription filled,” announced the doctor. “Will you go?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—an errand—to the drug store?” asked Pollyanna, a + little uncertainly. “I used to go some—for the Ladies' Aiders.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor shook his head with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. It's Mr. John Pendleton. He would like to see you to-day, if + you'll be so good as to come. It's stopped raining, so I drove down after + you. Will you come? I'll call for you and bring you back before six + o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd love to!” exclaimed Pollyanna. “Let me ask Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober face. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't—your aunt want you to go?” asked the doctor, a little + diffidently, as they drove away. + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes,” sighed Pollyanna. “She—she wanted me to go TOO much, I'm + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Wanted you to go TOO MUCH!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I reckon she meant she didn't want me there. You see, she said: + 'Yes, yes, run along, run along—do! I wish you'd gone before.'” + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled—but with his lips only. His eyes were very grave. + For some time he said nothing; then, a little hesitatingly, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it—your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago—in the + window of the sun parlor?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that's what's the whole trouble, I suppose. You see I'd dressed her + up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl I found up-stairs, and I'd fixed her + hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. Didn't YOU think she + looked just lovely?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the doctor did not answer. When he did speak his voice was so + low Pollyanna could but just hear the words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Pollyanna, I—I thought she did look—just lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you? I'm so glad! I'll tell her,” nodded the little girl, + contentedly. + </p> + <p> + To her surprise the doctor gave a sudden exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Never! Pollyanna, I—I'm afraid I shall have to ask you not to tell + her—that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you'd be glad—” + </p> + <p> + “But she might not be,” cut in the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna considered this for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “That's so—maybe she wouldn't,” she sighed. “I remember now; 'twas + 'cause she saw you that she ran. And she—she spoke afterwards about + her being seen in that rig.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” declared the doctor, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Still, I don't see why,” maintained Pollyanna, “—when she looked so + pretty!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor said nothing. He did not speak again, indeed, until they were + almost to the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a broken + leg. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. “JUST LIKE A BOOK” + </h2> + <h3> + John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna to-day with a smile. + </h3> + <p> + “Well, Miss Pollyanna, I'm thinking you must be a very forgiving little + person, else you wouldn't have come to see me again to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, and I'm sure I don't see why + I shouldn't be, either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I'm afraid, both the + other day when you so kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when you + found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don't think I've + ever thanked you for that. Now I'm sure that even you would admit that you + were very forgiving to come and see me, after such ungrateful treatment as + that!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stirred uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “But I was glad to find you—that is, I don't mean I was glad your + leg was broken, of course,” she corrected hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I understand. Your tongue does get away with you once in a while, doesn't + it, Miss Pollyanna? I do thank you, however; and I consider you a very + brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for the jelly, + too,” he added in a lighter voice. + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” asked Pollyanna with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Very much. I suppose—there isn't any more to-day that—that + Aunt Polly DIDN'T send, is there?” he asked with an odd smile. + </p> + <p> + His visitor looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “N-no, sir.” She hesitated, then went on with heightened color. “Please, + Mr. Pendleton, I didn't mean to be rude the other day when I said Aunt + Polly did NOT send the jelly.” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. John Pendleton was not smiling now. He was looking + straight ahead of him with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and + beyond the object before them. After a time he drew a long sigh and turned + to Pollyanna. When he spoke his voice carried the old nervous fretfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, this will never do at all! I didn't send for you to see me + moping this time. Listen! Out in the library—the big room where the + telephone is, you know—you will find a carved box on the lower shelf + of the big case with glass doors in the corner not far from the fireplace. + That is, it'll be there if that confounded woman hasn't 'regulated' it to + somewhere else! You may bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too heavy for + you to carry, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm awfully strong,” declared Pollyanna, cheerfully, as she sprang to + her feet. In a minute she had returned with the box. + </p> + <p> + It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was full + of treasures—curios that John Pendleton had picked up in years of + travel—and concerning each there was some entertaining story, + whether it were a set of exquisitely carved chessmen from China, or a + little jade idol from India. + </p> + <p> + It was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna + murmured wistfully: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose it WOULD be better to take a little boy in India to bring + up—one that didn't know any more than to think that God was in that + doll-thing—than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who + knows God is up in the sky. Still, I can't help wishing they had wanted + Jimmy Bean, too, besides the India boys.” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his, eyes were staring straight + before him, looking at nothing. But soon he had roused himself, and had + picked up another curio to talk about. + </p> + <p> + The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was over, + Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides the + wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking of + herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life. They were + talking, too, even of the life and home long ago in the far Western town. + </p> + <p> + Not until it was nearly time for her to go, did the man say, in a voice + Pollyanna had never before heard from stern John Pendleton: + </p> + <p> + “Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you? I'm lonesome, + and I need you. There's another reason—and I'm going to tell you + that, too. I thought, at first, after I found out who you were, the other + day, that I didn't want you to come any more. You reminded me of—of + something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said to myself that + I never wanted to see you again; and every day, when the doctor asked if I + wouldn't let him bring you to me, I said no. + </p> + <p> + “But after a time I found I was wanting to see you so much that—that + the fact that I WASN'T seeing you was making me remember all the more + vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So now I want you to come. + Will you—little girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Mr. Pendleton,” breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with + sympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her. “I'd + love to come!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently. + </p> + <p> + After supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told + Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton's wonderful carved box, and the still + more wonderful things it contained. + </p> + <p> + “And ter think,” sighed Nancy, “that he SHOWED ye all them things, and + told ye about 'em like that—him that's so cross he never talks ter + no one—no one!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but he isn't cross, Nancy, only outside,” demurred Pollyanna, with + quick loyalty. “I don't see why everybody thinks he's so bad, either. They + wouldn't, if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly doesn't like him very + well. She wouldn't send the jelly to him, you know, and she was so afraid + he'd think she did send it!” + </p> + <p> + “Probably she didn't call him no duty,” shrugged Nancy. “But what beats me + is how he happened ter take ter you so, Miss Pollyanna—meanin' no + offence ter you, of course—but he ain't the sort o' man what + gen'rally takes ter kids; he ain't, he ain't.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna smiled happily. + </p> + <p> + “But he did, Nancy,” she nodded, “only I reckon even he didn't want to—ALL + the time. Why, only to-day he owned up that one time he just felt he never + wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of something he wanted to + forget. But afterwards—” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. “He said you reminded him of + something he wanted to forget?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But afterwards—” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't tell me. He just said it was something.” + </p> + <p> + “THE MYSTERY!” breathed Nancy, in an awestruck voice. “That's why he took + to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna! Why, that's just like a + book—I've read lots of 'em; 'Lady Maud's Secret,' and 'The Lost + Heir,' and 'Hidden for Years'—all of 'em had mysteries and things + just like this. My stars and stockings! Just think of havin' a book lived + right under yer nose like this an' me not knowin' it all this time! Now + tell me everythin'—everythin' he said, Miss Pollyanna, there's a + dear! No wonder he took ter you; no wonder—no wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “But he didn't,” cried Pollyanna, “not till <i>I</i> talked to HIM, first. + And he didn't even know who I was till I took the calf's-foot jelly, and + had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn't send it, and—” + </p> + <p> + Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know—I KNOW I know!” she exulted + rapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna's side again. “Tell + me—now think, and answer straight and true,” she urged excitedly. + “It was after he found out you was Miss Polly's niece that he said he + didn't ever want ter see ye again, wa'n't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” triumphed Nancy. “And Miss Polly wouldn't send the + jelly herself, would she?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you told him she didn't send it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; I—” + </p> + <p> + “And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you was + her niece. He did that, didn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, y-yes; he did act a little queer—over that jelly,” admitted + Pollyanna, with a thoughtful frown. + </p> + <p> + Nancy drew a long sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Then I've got it, sure! Now listen. MR. JOHN PENDLETON WAS MISS POLLY + HARRINGTON'S LOVER!” she announced impressively, but with a furtive glance + over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nancy, he couldn't be! She doesn't like him,” objected Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + Nancy gave her a scornful glance. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she don't! THAT'S the quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy + happily settled herself to tell the story. + </p> + <p> + “It's like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had had + a lover once. I didn't believe it. I couldn't—her and a lover! But + Mr. Tom said she had, and that he was livin' now right in this town. And + NOW I know, of course. It's John Pendleton. Hain't he got a mystery in his + life? Don't he shut himself up in that grand house alone, and never speak + ter no one? Didn't he act queer when he found out you was Miss Polly's + niece? And now hain't he owned up that you remind him of somethin' he + wants ter forget? Just as if ANYBODY couldn't see 'twas Miss Polly!—an' + her sayin' she wouldn't send him no jelly, too. Why, Miss Pollyanna, it's + as plain as the nose on yer face; it is, it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h!” breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. “But, Nancy, I should + think if they loved each other they'd make up some time. Both of 'em all + alone, so, all these years. I should think they'd be glad to make up!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy sniffed disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You ain't + big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o' folks in the world that + wouldn't have no use for that 'ere 'glad game' o' your'n, it'd be a pair + o' quarrellin' lovers; and that's what they be. Ain't he cross as sticks, + most gen'rally?—and ain't she—” + </p> + <p> + Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about whom, + she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't sayin', though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty + slick piece of business if you could GET 'em ter playin' it—so they + WOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn't folks stare some—Miss + Polly and him! I guess, though, there ain't much chance, much chance!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later, + her face was very thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS + </h2> + <p> + As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the + great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her visits + were really a success. Not but that the man seemed to want her there—he + sent for her, indeed, frequently; but that when she was there, he seemed + scarcely any the happier for her presence—at least, so Pollyanna + thought. + </p> + <p> + He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and + beautiful things—books, pictures, and curios. But he still fretted + audibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under the rules + and “regulatings” of the unwelcome members of his household. He did, + indeed, seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna + talked, Pollyanna liked to talk—but she was never sure that she + would not look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white, + hurt look that always pained her; and she was never sure which—if + any—of her words had brought it there. As for telling him the “glad + game,” and trying to get him to play it—Pollyanna had never seen the + time yet when she thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice + tried to tell him; but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of + what her father had said—John Pendleton had on each occasion turned + the conversation abruptly to another subject. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Polly's + one-time lover; and with all the strength of her loving, loyal heart, she + wished she could in some way bring happiness into their to her mind—miserably + lonely lives. + </p> + <p> + Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She talked to Mr. + Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely, sometimes + irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. + She talked to her aunt about Mr. Pendleton—or rather, she tried to + talk to her about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would not + listen—long. She always found something else to talk about. She + frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of others—of + Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this, though, to the fact that + it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun parlor with the rose + in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly, + indeed, seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found + out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house. + </p> + <p> + “If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,” Aunt Polly + said. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you? Then I'm going to be worse,” gurgled Pollyanna. “I'd love to + have Dr. Chilton come to see me!” + </p> + <p> + She wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt's face. + </p> + <p> + “It will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna,” Miss Polly said sternly. “Dr. + Chilton is not our family physician. I shall send for Dr. Warren—if + you are worse.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. Warren was not summoned. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm so glad, too,” Pollyanna said to her aunt that evening. “Of + course I like Dr. Warren, and all that; but I like Dr. Chilton better, and + I'm afraid he'd feel hurt if I didn't have him. You see, he wasn't really + to blame, after all, that he happened to see you when I'd dressed you up + so pretty that day, Aunt Polly,” she finished wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr. Chilton—or + his feelings,” reproved Miss Polly, decisively. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes; then + she sighed: + </p> + <p> + “I just love to see you when your cheeks are pink like that, Aunt Polly; + but I would so like to fix your hair. If—Why, Aunt Polly!” But her + aunt was already out of sight down the hall. + </p> + <p> + It was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, making an early morning + call on John Pendleton, found the flaming band of blue and gold and green + edged with red and violet lying across his pillow. She stopped short in + awed delight. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, it's a baby rainbow—a real rainbow come in to + pay you a visit!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together softly. “Oh—oh—oh, + how pretty it is! But how DID it get in?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The man laughed a little grimly: John Pendleton was particularly out of + sorts with the world this morning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose it 'got in' through the bevelled edge of that glass + thermometer in the window,” he said wearily. “The sun shouldn't strike it + at all but it does in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it's so pretty, Mr. Pendleton! And does just the sun do that? My! + if it was mine I'd have it hang in the sun all day long!” + </p> + <p> + “Lots of good you'd get out of the thermometer, then,” laughed the man. + “How do you suppose you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was, if + the thermometer hung in the sun all day?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't care,” breathed Pollyanna, her fascinated eyes on the + brilliant band of colors across the pillow. “Just as if anybody'd care + when they were living all the time in a rainbow!” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. He was watching Pollyanna's rapt face a little curiously. + Suddenly a new thought came to him. He touched the bell at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Nora,” he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door, “bring me one + of the big brass candle-sticks from the mantel in the front drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed. In a minute she + had returned. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced + wonderingly toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants encircling the + old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. You may set it here on the stand,” directed the man. “Now get + a string and fasten it to the sash-curtain fixtures of that window there. + Take down the sash-curtain, and let the string reach straight across the + window from side to side. That will be all. Thank you,” he said, when she + had carried out his directions. + </p> + <p> + As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering + Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + With both hands she brought it; and in a moment he was slipping off the + pendants, one by one, until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by side, + on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string + Nora fixed across the window. If you really WANT to live in a rainbow—I + don't see but we'll have to have a rainbow for you to live in!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window + before she saw a little of what was going to happen. She was so excited + then she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up the + rest. But at last her task was finished, and she stepped back with a low + cry of delight. + </p> + <p> + It had become a fairyland—that sumptuous, but dreary bedroom. + Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, gold and + blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed itself, were + aflame with shimmering bits of color. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh, how lovely!” breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly. + “I just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, don't you?” + she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know + what she was talking about. “Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those things! + How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow and—lots + of folks. I reckon THEN they'd be glad all right! Why, I think even Aunt + Polly'd get so glad she couldn't help banging doors if she lived in a + rainbow like that. Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pendleton laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I + think it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight to—to + make her bang many doors—for gladness. But come, now, really, what + do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot. You don't know about the game. I remember now.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you tell me, then.” + </p> + <p> + And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from the + very first—from the crutches that should have been a doll. As she + talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the + dancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlit + window. + </p> + <p> + “And that's all,” she sighed, when she had finished. “And now you know why + I said the sun was trying to play it—that game.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said + unsteadily: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps; but I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is + yourself, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun + shines through me, Mr. Pendleton!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you?” smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face, + wondered why there were tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. Then, after a minute she added mournfully: “I'm afraid, + Mr. Pendleton, the sun doesn't make anything but freckles out of me. Aunt + Polly says it DOES make them!” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed a little; and again Pollyanna looked at him: the laugh had + sounded almost like a sob. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING + </h2> + <p> + Pollyanna entered school in September. Preliminary examinations showed + that she was well advanced for a girl of her years, and she was soon a + happy member of a class of girls and boys her own age. + </p> + <p> + School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna, + certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were + soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna confessed + that going to school WAS living, after all—though she had had her + doubts before. + </p> + <p> + In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old + friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of course; + but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton, of them + all, however, was the most dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me?” he + asked, a little impatiently. “I don't see anything of you, nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed—Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man! + </p> + <p> + “I thought you didn't like to have folks 'round,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He made a wry face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of + yours. Now I'm glad to be waited on, hand and foot! Never mind, I'll be on + my own two feet yet, one of these days; then I'll see who steps around,” + he finished, picking up one of the crutches at his side and shaking it + playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great library + to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you aren't really glad at all for things; you just SAY you are,” + pouted Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog, dozing before the fire. “You know + you don't play the game right EVER, Mr. Pendleton—you know you + don't!” + </p> + <p> + The man's face grew suddenly very grave. + </p> + <p> + “That's why I want you, little girl—to help me play it. Will you + come?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna turned in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton, you don't really mean—that?” + </p> + <p> + “But I do. I want you. Will you come?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can't—you know I can't. Why, I'm—Aunt + Polly's!” + </p> + <p> + A quick something crossed the man's face that Pollyanna could not quite + understand. His head came up almost fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “You're no more hers than—Perhaps she would let you come to me,” he + finished more gently. “Would you come—if she did?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned in deep thought. + </p> + <p> + “But Aunt Polly has been so—good to me,” she began slowly; “and she + took me when I didn't have anybody left but the Ladies' Aid, and—” + </p> + <p> + Again that spasm of something crossed the man's face; but this time, when + he spoke, his voice was low and very sad. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring + her, some day, to this house. I pictured how happy we'd be together in our + home all the long years to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “But—well, I didn't bring her here. Never mind why. I just didn't + that's all. And ever since then this great gray pile of stone has been a + house—never a home. It takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's + presence, to make a home, Pollyanna; and I have not had either. Now will + you come, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton, you—you mean that you wish you—you had had + that woman's hand and heart all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, y-yes, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad! Then it's all right,” sighed the little girl. “Now you + can take us both, and everything will be lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “Take—you—both?” repeated the man, dazedly. + </p> + <p> + A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna's countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, Aunt Polly isn't won over, yet; but I'm sure she will be + if you tell it to her just as you did to me, and then we'd both come, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + A look of actual terror leaped to the man's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly come—HERE!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's eyes widened a little. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather go THERE?” she asked. “Of course the house isn't quite + so pretty, but it's nearer—” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, what ARE you talking about?” asked the man, very gently now. + </p> + <p> + “Why, about where we're going to live, of course,” rejoined Pollyanna, in + obvious surprise. “I THOUGHT you meant here, at first. You said it was + here that you had wanted Aunt Polly's hand and heart all these years to + make a home, and—” + </p> + <p> + An inarticulate cry came from the man's throat. He raised his hand and + began to speak; but the next moment he dropped his hand nervelessly at his + side. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, sir,” said the maid in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna rose at once. + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton turned to her feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, for Heaven's sake, say nothing of what I asked you—yet,” + he begged, in a low voice. Pollyanna dimpled into a sunny smile. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! Just as if I didn't know you'd rather tell her yourself!” + she called back merrily over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's up?” demanded the doctor, a minute later, his fingers on his + patient's galloping pulse. + </p> + <p> + A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton's lips. + </p> + <p> + “Overdose of your—tonic, I guess,” he laughed, as he noted the + doctor's eyes following Pollyanna's little figure down the driveway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING + </h2> + <p> + Sunday mornings Pollyanna usually attended church and Sunday school. + Sunday afternoons she frequently went for a walk with Nancy. She had + planned one for the day after her Saturday afternoon visit to Mr. John + Pendleton; but on the way home from Sunday school Dr. Chilton overtook her + in his gig, and brought his horse to a stop. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you let me drive you home, Pollyanna,” he suggested. “I want to + speak to you a minute. I, was just driving out to your place to tell you,” + he went on, as Pollyanna settled herself at his side. “Mr. Pendleton sent + a special request for you to go to see him this afternoon, SURE. He says + it's very important.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna nodded happily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is, I know. I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor eyed her with some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure I shall let you, after all,” he declared, his eyes + twinkling. “You seemed more upsetting than soothing yesterday, young + lady.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it wasn't me, truly—not really, you know; not so much as it was + Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned with a quick start. + </p> + <p> + “Your—aunt!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And it's so exciting and lovely, just like a story, you know. I—I'm + going to tell you,” she burst out, with sudden decision. “He said not to + mention it; but he wouldn't mind your knowing, of course. He meant not to + mention it to HER.” + </p> + <p> + “HER?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Aunt Polly. And, of course he WOULD want to tell her himself instead + of having me do it—lovers, so!” + </p> + <p> + “Lovers!” As the doctor said the word, the horse started violently, as if + the hand that held the reins had given them a sharp jerk. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” nodded Pollyanna, happily. “That's the story-part, you see. I + didn't know it till Nancy told me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years + ago, and they quarrelled. She didn't know who it was at first. But we've + found out now. It's Mr. Pendleton, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor relaxed suddenly, The hand holding the reins fell limply to his + lap. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! No; I—didn't know,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna hurried on—they were nearing the Harrington homestead. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I'm so glad now. It's come out lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked me to + come and live with him, but of course I wouldn't leave Aunt Polly like + that—after she'd been so good to me. Then he told me all about the + woman's hand and heart that he used to want, and I found out that he + wanted it now; and I was so glad! For of course if he wants to make up the + quarrel, everything will be all right now, and Aunt Polly and I will both + go to live there, or else he'll come to live with us. Of course Aunt Polly + doesn't know yet, and we haven't got everything settled; so I suppose that + is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendleton does—want to see + you, Pollyanna,” he nodded, as he pulled his horse to a stop before the + door. + </p> + <p> + “There's Aunt Polly now in the window,” cried Pollyanna; then, a second + later: “Why, no, she isn't—but I thought I saw her!” + </p> + <p> + “No; she isn't there—now,” said the doctor, His lips had suddenly + lost their smile. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna,” he began at once. “I've been trying all night to puzzle out + what you meant by all that, yesterday—about my wanting your Aunt + Polly's hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, because you were lovers, you know once; and I was so glad you still + felt that way now.” + </p> + <p> + “Lovers!—your Aunt Polly and I?” + </p> + <p> + At the obvious surprise in the man's voice, Pollyanna opened wide her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!” + </p> + <p> + The man gave a short little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Well, I'm afraid I shall have to say that Nancy—didn't + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you—weren't lovers?” Pollyanna's voice was tragic with dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “And it ISN'T all coming out like a book?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The man's eyes were moodily fixed out the window. + </p> + <p> + “O dear! And it was all going so splendidly,” almost sobbed Pollyanna. + “I'd have been so glad to come—with Aunt Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't—now?” The man asked the question without turning his + head. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! I'm Aunt Polly's.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned now, almost fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were—your mother's. And—it + was your mother's hand and heart that I wanted long years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother's!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it's better, after all, + that I do—now.” John Pendleton's face had grown very white. He was + speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and frightened, + and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. “I loved your mother; but + she—didn't love me. And after a time she went away with—your + father. I did not know until then how much I did—care. The whole + world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers, and—But, never + mind. For long years I have been a cross, crabbed, unlovable, unloved old + man—though I'm not nearly sixty, yet, Pollyanna. Then, One day, like + one of the prisms that you love so well, little girl, you danced into my + life, and flecked my dreary old world with dashes of the purple and gold + and scarlet of your own bright cheeriness. I found out, after a time, who + you were, and—and I thought then I never wanted to see you again. I + didn't want to be reminded of—your mother. But—you know how + that came out. I just had to have you come. And now I want you always. + Pollyanna, won't you come NOW?” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Pendleton, I—There's Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna's eyes were + blurred with tears. + </p> + <p> + The man made an impatient gesture. + </p> + <p> + “What about me? How do you suppose I'm going to be 'glad' about anything—without + you? Why, Pollyanna, it's only since you came that I've been even half + glad to live! But if I had you for my own little girl, I'd be glad for—anything; + and I'd try to make you glad, too, my dear. You shouldn't have a wish + ungratified. All my money, to the last cent, should go to make you happy.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me—all that money + you've saved for the heathen!” + </p> + <p> + A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna was + still talking. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as you have doesn't need me to + make you glad about things. You're making other folks so glad giving them + things that you just can't help being glad yourself! Why, look at those + prisms you gave Mrs. Snow and me, and the gold piece you gave Nancy on her + birthday, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—never mind about all that,” interrupted the man. His face + was very, very red now—and no wonder, perhaps: it was not for + “giving things” that John Pendleton had been best known in the past. + “That's all nonsense. 'Twasn't much, anyhow—but what there was, was + because of you. YOU gave those things; not I! Yes, you did,” he repeated, + in answer to the shocked denial in her face. “And that only goes to prove + all the more how I need you, little girl,” he added, his voice softening + into tender pleading once more. “If ever, ever I am to play the 'glad + game,' Pollyanna, you'll have to come and play it with me.” + </p> + <p> + The little girl's forehead puckered into a wistful frown. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly has been so good to me,” she began; but the man interrupted + her sharply. The old irritability had come back to his face. Impatience + which would brook no opposition had been a part of John Pendleton's nature + too long to yield very easily now to restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she's been good to you! But she doesn't want you, I'll warrant, + half so much as I do,” he contested. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Pendleton, she's glad, I know, to have—” + </p> + <p> + “Glad!” interrupted the man, thoroughly losing his patience now. “I'll + wager Miss Polly doesn't know how to be glad—for anything! Oh, she + does her duty, I know. She's a very DUTIFUL woman. I've had experience + with her 'duty,' before. I'll acknowledge we haven't been the best of + friends for the last fifteen or twenty years. But I know her. Every one + knows her—and she isn't the 'glad' kind, Pollyanna. She doesn't know + how to be. As for your coming to me—you just ask her and see if she + won't let you come. And, oh, little girl, little girl, I want you so!” he + finished brokenly. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll ask her,” she said wistfully. “Of course I don't mean + that I wouldn't like to live here with you, Mr. Pendleton, but—” She + did not complete her sentence. There was a moment's silence, then she + added: “Well, anyhow, I'm glad I didn't tell her yesterday;—'cause + then I supposed SHE was wanted, too.” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn't mention it—yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't—only to the doctor; and of course he doesn't count.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor!” cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. “Not—Dr.—Chilton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me to-day, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the—” muttered the man, falling back in his chair. + Then he sat up with sudden interest. “And what did Dr. Chilton say?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well + imagine you did want to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did he, indeed!” answered John Pendleton. And Pollyanna wondered why + he gave that sudden queer little laugh. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. A QUESTION ANSWERED + </h2> + <p> + The sky was darkening fast with what appeared to be an approaching thunder + shower when Pollyanna hurried down the hill from John Pendleton's house. + Half-way home she met Nancy with an umbrella. By that time, however, the + clouds had shifted their position and the shower was not so imminent. + </p> + <p> + “Guess it's goin' 'round ter the north,” announced Nancy, eyeing the sky + critically. “I thought 'twas, all the time, but Miss Polly wanted me ter + come with this. She was WORRIED about ye!” + </p> + <p> + “Was she?” murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, eyeing the clouds in her turn. + </p> + <p> + Nancy sniffed a little. + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem ter notice what I said,” she observed aggrievedly. “I said + yer aunt was WORRIED about ye!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” sighed Pollyanna, remembering suddenly the question she was so soon + to ask her aunt. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad,” retorted Nancy, unexpectedly. “I am, I am.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna stared. + </p> + <p> + “GLAD that Aunt Polly was scared about me! Why, Nancy, THAT isn't the way + to play the game—to be glad for things like that!” she objected. + </p> + <p> + “There wa'n't no game in it,” retorted Nancy. “Never thought of it. YOU + don't seem ter sense what it means ter have Miss Polly WORRIED about ye, + child!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it means worried—and worried is horrid—to feel,” + maintained Pollyanna. “What else can it mean?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy tossed her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell ye what it means. It means she's at last gettin' down + somewheres near human—like folks; an' that she ain't jest doin' her + duty by ye all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nancy,” demurred the scandalized Pollyanna, “Aunt Polly always does + her duty. She—she's a very dutiful woman!” Unconsciously Pollyanna + repeated John Pendleton's words of half an hour before. + </p> + <p> + Nancy chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “You're right she is—and she always was, I guess! But she's + somethin' more, now, since you came.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown. + </p> + <p> + “There, that's what I was going to ask you, Nancy,” she sighed. “Do you + think Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mind—if if I + wasn't here any more?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy threw a quick look into the little girl's absorbed face. She had + expected to be asked this question long before, and she had dreaded it. + She had wondered how she should answer it—how she could answer it + honestly without cruelly hurting the questioner. But now, NOW, in the face + of the new suspicions that had become convictions by the afternoon's + umbrella-sending—Nancy only welcomed the question with open arms. + She was sure that, with a clean conscience to-day, she could set the + love-hungry little girl's heart at rest. + </p> + <p> + “Likes ter have ye here? Would she miss ye if ye wa'n't here?” cried + Nancy, indignantly. “As if that wa'n't jest what I was tellin' of ye! + Didn't she send me posthaste with an umbrella 'cause she see a little + cloud in the sky? Didn't she make me tote yer things all down-stairs, so + you could have the pretty room you wanted? Why, Miss Pollyanna, when ye + remember how at first she hated ter have—” + </p> + <p> + With a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up just in time. + </p> + <p> + “And it ain't jest things I can put my fingers on, neither,” rushed on + Nancy, breathlessly. “It's little ways she has, that shows how you've been + softenin' her up an' mellerin' her down—the cat, and the dog, and + the way she speaks ter me, and oh, lots o' things. Why, Miss Pollyanna, + there ain't no tellin' how she'd miss ye—if ye wa'n't here,” + finished Nancy, speaking with an enthusiastic certainty that was meant to + hide the perilous admission she had almost made before. Even then she was + not quite prepared for the sudden joy that illumined Pollyanna's face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nancy, I'm so glad—glad—glad! You don't know how glad I + am that Aunt Polly—wants me!” + </p> + <p> + “As if I'd leave her now!” thought Pollyanna, as she climbed the stairs to + her room a little later. “I always knew I wanted to live with Aunt Polly—but + I reckon maybe I didn't know quite how much I wanted Aunt Polly—to + want to live with ME!” + </p> + <p> + The task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an easy + one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John + Pendleton, and she was very sorry for him—because he seemed to be so + sorry for himself. She was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that had + made him so unhappy; and she was grieved that it had been because of her + mother that he had spent those dreary years. She pictured the great gray + house as it would be after its master was well again, with its silent + rooms, its littered floors, its disordered desk; and her heart ached for + his loneliness. She wished that somewhere, some one might be found who—And + it was at this point that she sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy + at the thought that had come to her. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she could, after that, she hurried up the hill to John + Pendleton's house; and in due time she found herself in the great dim + library, with John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, thin + hands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and his faithful little dog at + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the 'glad game' with me, all the rest of my + life?” asked the man, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” cried Pollyanna. “I've thought of the very gladdest kind of a + thing for you to do, and—” + </p> + <p> + “With—YOU?” asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern + at the corners. + </p> + <p> + “N-no; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, you aren't going to say no!” interrupted a voice deep with + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I—I've got to, Mr. Pendleton; truly I have. Aunt Polly—” + </p> + <p> + “Did she REFUSE—to let you—come?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn't ask her,” stammered the little girl, miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved gaze + of her friend. + </p> + <p> + “So you didn't even ask her!” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't, sir—truly,” faltered Pollyanna. “You see, I found out—without + asking. Aunt Polly WANTS me with her, and—and I want to stay, too,” + she confessed bravely. “You don't know how good she's been to me; and—and + I think, really, sometimes she's beginning to be glad about things—lots + of things. And you know she never used to be. You said it yourself. Oh, + Mr. Pendleton, I COULDN'T leave Aunt Polly—now!” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate + broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, Pollyanna; I see. You couldn't leave her—now,” he said. “I + won't ask you—again.” The last word was so low it was almost + inaudible; but Pollyanna heard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you don't know about the rest of it,” she reminded him eagerly. + “There's the very gladdest thing you CAN do—truly there is!” + </p> + <p> + “Not for me, Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, for you. You SAID it. You said only a—a woman's hand and + heart or a child's presence could make a home. And I can get it for you—a + child's presence;—not me, you know, but another one.” + </p> + <p> + “As if I would have any but you!” resented an indignant voice. + </p> + <p> + “But you will—when you know; you're so kind and good! Why, think of + the prisms and the gold pieces, and all that money you save for the + heathen, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” interrupted the man, savagely. “Once for all let us end that + nonsense! I've tried to tell you half a dozen times before. There is no + money for the heathen. I never sent a penny to them in my life. There!” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he expected—the + grieved disappointment of Pollyanna's eyes. To his amazement, however, + there was neither grief nor disappointment in Pollyanna's eyes. There was + only surprised joy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” she cried, clapping her hands. “I'm so glad! That is,” she + corrected, coloring distressfully, “I don't mean that I'm not sorry for + the heathen, only just now I can't help being glad that you don't want the + little India boys, because all the rest have wanted them. And so I'm glad + you'd rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you'll take him!” + </p> + <p> + “Take—WHO?” + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy Bean. He's the 'child's presence,' you know; and he'll be so glad + to be it. I had to tell him last week that even my Ladies' Aid out West + wouldn't take him, and he was so disappointed. But now—when he hears + of this—he'll be so glad!” + </p> + <p> + “Will he? Well, I won't,” ejaculated the man, decisively. “Pollyanna, this + is sheer nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean—you won't take him?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do mean just that.” + </p> + <p> + “But he'd be a lovely child's presence,” faltered Pollyanna. She was + almost crying now. “And you COULDN'T be lonesome—with Jimmy 'round.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it,” rejoined the man; “but—I think I prefer the + lonesomeness.” + </p> + <p> + It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly + remembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin + aggrievedly. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn't be better than that old + dead skeleton you keep somewhere; but I think it would!” + </p> + <p> + “SKELETON?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what—” Suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed. He + laughed very heartily indeed—so heartily that Pollyanna began to cry + from pure nervousness. When he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very + promptly. His face grew grave at once. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, I suspect you are right—more right than you know,” he + said gently. “In fact, I KNOW that a 'nice live little boy' would be far + better than—my skeleton in the closet; only—we aren't always + willing to make the exchange. We are apt to still cling to—our + skeletons, Pollyanna. However, suppose you tell me a little more about + this nice little boy.” And Pollyanna told him. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the laugh cleared the air; or perhaps the pathos of Jimmy Bean's + story as told by Pollyanna's eager little lips touched a heart already + strangely softened. At all events, when Pollyanna went home that night she + carried with her an invitation for Jimmy Bean himself to call at the great + house with Pollyanna the next Saturday afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm so glad, and I'm sure you'll like him,” sighed Pollyanna, as she + said good-by. “I do so want Jimmy Bean to have a home—and folks that + care, you know.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. SERMONS AND WOODBOXES + </h2> + <p> + On the afternoon that Pollyanna told John Pendleton of Jimmy Bean, the + Rev. Paul Ford climbed the hill and entered the Pendleton Woods, hoping + that the hushed beauty of God's out-of-doors would still the tumult that + His children of men had wrought. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Paul Ford was sick at heart. Month by month, for a year past, + conditions in the parish under him had been growing worse and worse; until + it seemed that now, turn which way he would, he encountered only + wrangling, backbiting, scandal, and jealousy. He had argued, pleaded, + rebuked, and ignored by turns; and always and through all he had prayed—earnestly, + hopefully. But to-day miserably he was forced to own that matters were no + better, but rather worse. + </p> + <p> + Two of his deacons were at swords' points over a silly something that only + endless brooding had made of any account. Three of his most energetic + women workers had withdrawn from the Ladies' Aid Society because a tiny + spark of gossip had been fanned by wagging tongues into a devouring flame + of scandal. The choir had split over the amount of solo work given to a + fanciedly preferred singer. Even the Christian Endeavor Society was in a + ferment of unrest owing to open criticism of two of its officers. As to + the Sunday school—it had been the resignation of its superintendent + and two of its teachers that had been the last straw, and that had sent + the harassed minister to the quiet woods for prayer and meditation. + </p> + <p> + Under the green arch of the trees the Rev. Paul Ford faced the thing + squarely. To his mind, the crisis had come. Something must be done—and + done at once. The entire work of the church was at a standstill. The + Sunday services, the week-day prayer meeting, the missionary teas, even + the suppers and socials were becoming less and less well attended. True, a + few conscientious workers were still left. But they pulled at cross + purposes, usually; and always they showed themselves to be acutely aware + of the critical eyes all about them, and of the tongues that had nothing + to do but to talk about what the eyes saw. + </p> + <p> + And because of all this, the Rev. Paul Ford understood very well that he + (God's minister), the church, the town, and even Christianity itself was + suffering; and must suffer still more unless— + </p> + <p> + Clearly something must be done, and done at once. But what? + </p> + <p> + Slowly the minister took from his pocket the notes he had made for his + next Sunday's sermon. Frowningly he looked at them. His mouth settled into + stern lines, as aloud, very impressively, he read the verses on which he + had determined to speak: + </p> + <p> + “'But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut up the + kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves, neither + suffer ye them that are entering to go in.' + </p> + <p> + “'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour widows' + houses, and for a pretence make long prayer: therefore ye shall receive + the greater damnation.' + </p> + <p> + “'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of + mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the + law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to + leave the other undone.'” + </p> + <p> + It was a bitter denunciation. In the green aisles of the woods, the + minister's deep voice rang out with scathing effect. Even the birds and + squirrels seemed hushed into awed silence. It brought to the minister a + vivid realization of how those words would sound the next Sunday when he + should utter them before his people in the sacred hush of the church. + </p> + <p> + His people!—they WERE his people. Could he do it? Dare he do it? + Dare he not do it? It was a fearful denunciation, even without the words + that would follow—his own words. He had prayed and prayed. He had + pleaded earnestly for help, for guidance. He longed—oh, how + earnestly he longed!—to take now, in this crisis, the right step. + But was this—the right step? + </p> + <p> + Slowly the minister folded the papers and thrust them back into his + pocket. Then, with a sigh that was almost a moan, he flung himself down at + the foot of a tree, and covered his face with his hands. + </p> + <p> + It was there that Pollyanna, on her way home from the Pendleton house, + found him. With a little cry she ran forward. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, Mr. Ford! You—YOU haven't broken YOUR leg or—or + anything, have you?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + The minister dropped his hands, and looked up quickly. He tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear—no, indeed! I'm just—resting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” sighed Pollyanna, falling back a little. “That's all right, then. + You see, Mr. Pendleton HAD broken his leg when I found him—but he + was lying down, though. And you are sitting up.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am sitting up; and I haven't broken anything—that doctors + can mend.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were very low, but Pollyanna heard them. A swift change + crossed her face. Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean—something plagues you. Father used to feel + like that, lots of times. I reckon ministers do—most generally. You + see there's such a lot depends on 'em, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Paul Ford turned a little wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Was YOUR father a minister, Pollyanna?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Didn't you know? I supposed everybody knew that. He married + Aunt Polly's sister, and she was my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I understand. But, you see, I haven't been here many years, so I + don't know all the family histories.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. The minister, still sitting at the foot of the + tree, appeared to have forgotten Pollyanna's presence. He had pulled some + papers from his pocket and unfolded them; but he was not looking at them. + He was gazing, instead, at a leaf on the ground a little distance away—and + it was not even a pretty leaf. It was brown and dead. Pollyanna, looking + at him, felt vaguely sorry for him. + </p> + <p> + “It—it's a nice day,” she began hopefully. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was no answer; then the minister looked up with a + start. + </p> + <p> + “What? Oh!—yes, it is a very nice day.” + </p> + <p> + “And 'tisn't cold at all, either, even if 'tis October,” observed + Pollyanna, still more hopefully. “Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said he + didn't need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at fires, don't + you?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently, before + she tried again—by a new route. + </p> + <p> + “Do You like being a minister?” + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Paul Ford looked up now, very quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Do I like—Why, what an odd question! Why do you ask that, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—only the way you looked. It made me think of my father. He + used to look like that—sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” The minister's voice was polite, but his eyes had gone back to + the dried leaf on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you if he was glad he was a + minister.” + </p> + <p> + The man under the tree smiled a little sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he always said he was, of course, but 'most always he said, too, that + he wouldn't STAY a minister a minute if 'twasn't for the rejoicing texts.” + </p> + <p> + “The—WHAT?” The Rev. Paul Ford's eyes left the leaf and gazed + wonderingly into Pollyanna's merry little face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's what father used to call 'em,” she laughed. “Of course the + Bible didn't name 'em that. But it's all those that begin 'Be glad in the + Lord,' or 'Rejoice greatly,' or 'Shout for joy,' and all that, you know—such + a lot of 'em. Once, when father felt specially bad, he counted 'em. There + were eight hundred of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that told you to rejoice and be glad, you know; that's why + father named 'em the 'rejoicing texts.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” There was an odd look on the minister's face. His eyes had fallen to + the words on the top paper in his hands—“But woe unto you, scribes + and Pharisees, hypocrites!” “And so your father—liked those + 'rejoicing texts,'” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” nodded Pollyanna, emphatically. “He said he felt better right + away, that first day he thought to count 'em. He said if God took the + trouble to tell us eight hundred times to be glad and rejoice, He must + want us to do it—SOME. And father felt ashamed that he hadn't done + it more. After that, they got to be such a comfort to him, you know, when + things went wrong; when the Ladies' Aiders got to fight—I mean, when + they DIDN'T AGREE about something,” corrected Pollyanna, hastily. “Why, it + was those texts, too, father said, that made HIM think of the game—he + began with ME on the crutches—but he said 'twas the rejoicing texts + that started him on it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what game might that be?” asked the minister. + </p> + <p> + “About finding something in everything to be glad about, you know. As I + said, he began with me on the crutches.” And once more Pollyanna told her + story—this time to a man who listened with tender eyes and + understanding ears. + </p> + <p> + A little later Pollyanna and the minister descended the hill, hand in + hand. Pollyanna's face was radiant. Pollyanna loved to talk, and she had + been talking now for some time: there seemed to be so many, many things + about the game, her father, and the old home life that the minister wanted + to know. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the hill their ways parted, and Pollyanna down one road, + and the minister down another, walked on alone. + </p> + <p> + In the Rev. Paul Ford's study that evening the minister sat thinking. Near + him on the desk lay a few loose sheets of paper—his sermon notes. + Under the suspended pencil in his fingers lay other sheets of paper, blank—his + sermon to be. But the minister was not thinking either of what he had + written, or of what he intended to write. In his imagination he was far + away in a little Western town with a missionary minister who was poor, + sick, worried, and almost alone in the world—but who was poring over + the Bible to find how many times his Lord and Master had told him to + “rejoice and be glad.” + </p> + <p> + After a time, with a long sigh, the Rev. Paul Ford roused himself, came + back from the far Western town, and adjusted the sheets of paper under his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Matthew twenty-third; 13—14 and 23,” he wrote; then, with a gesture + of impatience, he dropped his pencil and pulled toward him a magazine left + on the desk by his wife a few minutes before. Listlessly his tired eyes + turned from paragraph to paragraph until these words arrested them: + </p> + <p> + “A father one day said to his son, Tom, who, he knew, had refused to fill + his mother's woodbox that morning: 'Tom, I'm sure you'll be glad to go and + bring in some wood for your mother.' And without a word Tom went. Why? + Just because his father showed so plainly that he expected him to do the + right thing. Suppose he had said: 'Tom, I overheard what you said to your + mother this morning, and I'm ashamed of you. Go at once and fill that + woodbox!' I'll warrant that woodbox, would be empty yet, so far as Tom was + concerned!” + </p> + <p> + On and on read the minister—a word here, a line there, a paragraph + somewhere else: + </p> + <p> + “What men and women need is encouragement. Their natural resisting powers + should be strengthened, not weakened.... Instead of always harping on a + man's faults, tell him of his virtues. Try to pull him out of his rut of + bad habits. Hold up to him his better self, his REAL self that can dare + and do and win out!... The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful + character is contagious, and may revolutionize a whole town.... People + radiate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If a man feels kindly + and obliging, his neighbors will feel that way, too, before long. But if + he scolds and scowls and criticizes—his neighbors will return scowl + for scowl, and add interest!... When you look for the bad, expecting it, + you will get it. When you know you will find the good—you will get + that.... Tell your son Tom you KNOW he'll be glad to fill that woodbox—then + watch him start, alert and interested!” + </p> + <p> + The minister dropped the paper and lifted his chin. In a moment he was on + his feet, tramping the narrow room back and forth, back and forth. Later, + some time later, he drew a long breath, and dropped himself in the chair + at his desk. + </p> + <p> + “God helping me, I'll do it!” he cried softly. “I'll tell all my Toms I + KNOW they'll be glad to fill that woodbox! I'll give them work to do, and + I'll make them so full of the very joy of doing it that they won't have + TIME to look at their neighbors' woodboxes!” And he picked up his sermon + notes, tore straight through the sheets, and cast them from him, so that + on one side of his chair lay “But woe unto you,” and on the other, + “scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” while across the smooth white paper + before him his pencil fairly flew—after first drawing one black line + through Matthew twenty-third; 13—14 and 23. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that the Rev. Paul Ford's sermon the next Sunday was a + veritable bugle-call to the best that was in every man and woman and child + that heard it; and its text was one of Pollyanna's shining eight hundred: + </p> + <p> + “Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, ye righteous, and shout for joy all ye + that are upright in heart.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. AN ACCIDENT + </h2> + <p> + At Mrs. Snow's request, Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton's office to + get the name of a medicine which Mrs. Snow had forgotten. As it chanced, + Pollyanna had never before seen the inside of Dr. Chilton's office. + </p> + <p> + “I've never been to your home before! This IS your home, isn't it?” she + said, looking interestedly about her. + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled a little sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—such as 'tis,” he answered, as he wrote something on the pad of + paper in his hand; “but it's a pretty poor apology for a home, Pollyanna. + They're just rooms, that's all—not a home.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I know. It takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence to make + a home,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” The doctor wheeled about abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton told me,” nodded Pollyanna, again; “about the woman's hand + and heart, or the child's presence, you know. Why don't you get a woman's + hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe you'd take Jimmy Bean—if Mr. + Pendleton doesn't want him.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly. + </p> + <p> + “So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home, + does he?” he asked evasively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don't you, Dr. Chilton?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't I—what?” The doctor had turned back to his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Get a woman's hand and heart. Oh—and I forgot.” Pollyanna's face + showed suddenly a painful color. “I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn't + Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago; and so we—we aren't + going there to live. You see, I told you it was—but I made a + mistake. I hope YOU didn't tell any one,” she finished anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No—I didn't tell any one, Pollyanna,” replied the doctor, a little + queerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right, then,” sighed Pollyanna in relief. “You see you're + the only one I told, and I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of funny when + I said I'd told YOU.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” The doctor's lips twitched. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And of course he wouldn't want many people to know it—when + 'twasn't true. But why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. + Chilton?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence; then very gravely the doctor said: + </p> + <p> + “They're not always to be had—for the asking, little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “But I should think you could get 'em,” she argued. The flattering + emphasis was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” laughed the doctor, with uplifted eyebrows. Then, gravely + again: “I'm afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite so—confident. + At least, they—they haven't shown themselves to be so—obliging,” + he observed. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dr. Chilton, you don't mean—you didn't try to get somebody's + hand and heart once, like Mr. Pendleton, and—and couldn't, did you?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now. Don't let other + people's troubles worry your little head. Suppose you run back now to Mrs. + Snow. I've written down the name of the medicine, and the directions how + she is to take it. Was there anything else?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir; thank you, Sir,” she murmured soberly, as she turned toward the + door. From the little hallway she called back, her face suddenly alight: + “Anyhow, I'm glad 'twasn't my mother's hand and heart that you wanted and + couldn't get, Dr. Chilton. Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, + hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance + in front of a swiftly approaching motor car. + </p> + <p> + Just what happened, no one could seem to tell afterward. Neither was there + any one found who could tell why it happened or who was to blame that it + did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o'clock, was borne, limp and + unconscious, into the little room that was so dear to her. There, by a + white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy she was undressed tenderly and + put to bed, while from the village, hastily summoned by telephone, Dr. + Warren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could bring him. + </p> + <p> + “And ye didn't need ter more'n look at her aunt's face,” Nancy was sobbing + to Old Tom in the garden, after the doctor had arrived and was closeted in + the hushed room; “ye didn't need ter more'n look at her aunt's face ter + see that 'twa'n't no duty that was eatin' her. Yer hands don't shake, and + yer eyes don't look as if ye was tryin' ter hold back the Angel o' Death + himself, when you're jest doin' yer DUTY, Mr. Tom they don't, they don't!” + </p> + <p> + “Is she hurt—bad?” The old man's voice shook. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no tellin',” sobbed Nancy. “She lay back that white an' still + she might easy be dead; but Miss Polly said she wa'n't dead—an' Miss + Polly had oughter know, if any one would—she kept up such a + listenin' an' a feelin' for her heartbeats an' her breath!” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't ye tell anythin' what it done to her?—that—that—” + Old Tom's face worked convulsively. + </p> + <p> + Nancy's lips relaxed a little. + </p> + <p> + “I wish ye WOULD call it somethin', Mr. Tom an' somethin' good an' strong, + too. Drat it! Ter think of its runnin' down our little girl! I always + hated the evil-smellin' things, anyhow—I did, I did!” + </p> + <p> + “But where is she hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I don't know,” moaned Nancy. “There's a little cut on her + blessed head, but 'tain't bad—that ain't—Miss Polly says. She + says she's afraid it's infernally she's hurt.” + </p> + <p> + A faint flicker came into Old Tom's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you mean internally, Nancy,” he said dryly. “She's hurt + infernally, all right—plague take that autymobile!—but I don't + guess Miss Polly'd be usin' that word, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Well, I don't know, I don't know,” moaned Nancy, with a shake of her + head as she turned away. “Seems as if I jest couldn't stand it till that + doctor gits out o' there. I wish I had a washin' ter do—the biggest + washin' I ever see, I do, I do!” she wailed, wringing her hands + helplessly. + </p> + <p> + Even after the doctor was gone, however, there seemed to be little that + Nancy could tell Mr. Tom. There appeared to be no bones broken, and the + cut was of slight consequence; but the doctor had looked very grave, had + shaken his head slowly, and had said that time alone could tell. After he + had gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and more drawn looking + than before. The patient had not fully recovered consciousness, but at + present she seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be expected. A + trained nurse had been sent for, and would come that night. That was all. + And Nancy turned sobbingly, and went back to her kitchen. + </p> + <p> + It was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyanna opened conscious + eyes and realized where she was. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, what's the matter? Isn't it daytime? Why don't I get + up?” she cried. “Why, Aunt Polly, I can't get up,” she moaned, falling + back on the pillow, after an ineffectual attempt to lift herself. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, I wouldn't try—just yet,” soothed her aunt quickly, but + very quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But what is the matter? Why can't I get up?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly's eyes asked an agonized question of the white-capped young + woman standing in the window, out of the range of Pollyanna's eyes. + </p> + <p> + The young woman nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her,” the lips said. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly cleared her throat, and tried to swallow the lump that would + scarcely let her speak. + </p> + <p> + “You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last night. But never mind that + now. Auntie wants you to rest and go to sleep again.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt? Oh, yes; I—I ran.” Pollyanna's eyes were dazed. She lifted + her hand to her forehead. “Why, it's—done up, and it—hurts!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; but never mind. Just—just rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad! My legs feel so—so + queer—only they don't FEEL—at all!” + </p> + <p> + With an imploring look into the nurse's face, Miss Polly struggled to her + feet, and turned away. The nurse came forward quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you let me talk to you now,” she began cheerily. “I'm sure I + think it's high time we were getting acquainted, and I'm going to + introduce myself. I am Miss Hunt, and I've come to help your aunt take + care of you. And the very first thing I'm going to do is to ask you to + swallow these little white pills for me.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's eyes grew a bit wild. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to be taken care of—that is, not for long! I want + to get up. You know I go to school. Can't I go to school to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a half-stifled cry. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” smiled the nurse, brightly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss Pollyanna. But + just swallow these little pills for me, please, and we'll see what THEY'LL + do.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; “but I MUST go to + school day after to-morrow—there are examinations then, you know.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke again, a minute later. She spoke of school, and of the + automobile, and of how her head ached; but very soon her voice trailed + into silence under the blessed influence of the little white pills she had + swallowed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON + </h2> + <p> + Pollyanna did not go to school “to-morrow,” nor the “day after to-morrow.” + Pollyanna, however, did not realize this, except momentarily when a brief + period of full consciousness sent insistent questions to her lips. + Pollyanna did not realize anything, in fact, very clearly until a week had + passed; then the fever subsided, the pain lessened somewhat, and her mind + awoke to full consciousness. She had then to be told all over again what + had occurred. + </p> + <p> + “And so it's hurt that I am, and not sick,” she sighed at last. “Well, I'm + glad of that.” + </p> + <p> + “G-glad, Pollyanna?” asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'd so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton's than + life-long-invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and + lifelong-invalids don't.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly—who had said nothing whatever about broken legs—got + suddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table across the + room. She was picking up one object after another now, and putting each + down, in an aimless fashion quite unlike her usual decisiveness. Her face + was not aimless-looking at all, however; it was white and drawn. + </p> + <p> + On the bed Pollyanna lay blinking at the dancing band of colors on the + ceiling, which came from one of the prisms in the window. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad it isn't smallpox that ails me, too,” she murmured contentedly. + “That would be worse than freckles. And I'm glad 'tisn't whooping cough—I've + had that, and it's horrid—and I'm glad 'tisn't appendicitis nor + measles, 'cause they're catching—measles are, I mean—and they + wouldn't let you stay here.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to—to be glad for a good many things, my dear,” faltered + Aunt Polly, putting her hand to her throat as if her collar bound. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “I am. I've been thinking of 'em—lots of 'em—all the time I've + been looking up at that rainbow. I love rainbows. I'm so glad Mr. + Pendleton gave me those prisms! I'm glad of some things I haven't said + yet. I don't know but I'm 'most glad I was hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna laughed softly again. She turned luminous eyes on her aunt. + “Well, you see, since I have been hurt, you've called me 'dear' lots of + times—and you didn't before. I love to be called 'dear'—by + folks that belong to you, I mean. Some of the Ladies' Aiders did call me + that; and of course that was pretty nice, but not so nice as if they had + belonged to me, like you do. Oh, Aunt Polly, I'm so glad you belong to + me!” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly did not answer. Her hand was at her throat again. Her eyes were + full of tears. She had turned away and was hurrying from the room through + the door by which the nurse had just entered. + </p> + <p> + It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old Tom, who was cleaning + harnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, guess what's happened,” she panted. “You couldn't guess + in a thousand years—you couldn't, you couldn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I cal'late I won't try,” retorted the man, grimly, “specially as I + hain't got more'n TEN ter live, anyhow, probably. You'd better tell me + first off, Nancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, listen, then. Who do you s'pose is in the parlor now with the + mistress? Who, I say?” + </p> + <p> + Old Tom shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “There's no tellin',” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is. I'm tellin'. It's—John Pendleton!” + </p> + <p> + “Sho, now! You're jokin', girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much I am—an' me a-lettin' him in myself—crutches an' + all! An' the team he come in a-waitin' this minute at the door for him, + jest as if he wa'n't the cranky old crosspatch he is, what never talks ter + no one! jest think, Mr. Tom—HIM a-callin' on HER!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” demanded the old man, a little aggressively. + </p> + <p> + Nancy gave him a scornful glance. + </p> + <p> + “As if you didn't know better'n me!” she derided. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you needn't be so innercent,” she retorted with mock indignation; “—you + what led me wildgoose chasin' in the first place!” + </p> + <p> + “What do ye mean?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy glanced through the open barn door toward the house, and came a step + nearer to the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Listen! 'Twas you that was tellin' me Miss Polly had a lover in the first + place, wa'n't it? Well, one day I thinks I finds two and two, and I puts + 'em tergether an' makes four. But it turns out ter be five—an' no + four at all, at all!” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture of indifference Old Tom turned and fell to work. + </p> + <p> + “If you're goin' ter talk ter me, you've got ter talk plain horse sense,” + he declared testily. “I never was no hand for figgers.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's this,” she explained. “I heard somethin' that made me think + him an' Miss Polly was lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “MR. PENDLETON!” Old Tom straightened up. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Oh, I know now; he wasn't. It was that blessed child's mother he was + in love with, and that's why he wanted—but never mind that part,” + she added hastily, remembering just in time her promise to Pollyanna not + to tell that Mr. Pendleton had wished her to come and live with him. + “Well, I've been askin' folks about him some, since, and I've found out + that him an' Miss Polly hain't been friends for years, an' that she's been + hatin' him like pizen owin' ter the silly gossip that coupled their names + tergether when she was eighteen or twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” nodded Old Tom. “It was three or four years after Miss + Jennie give him the mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss Polly + knew about it, of course, and was sorry for him. So she tried ter be nice + to him. Maybe she overdid it a little—she hated that minister chap + so who had took off her sister. At any rate, somebody begun ter make + trouble. They said she was runnin' after him.” + </p> + <p> + “Runnin' after any man—her!” interjected Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “I know it; but they did,” declared Old Tom, “and of course no gal of any + spunk'll stand that. Then about that time come her own lover an' the + trouble with HIM. After that she shut up like an oyster an' wouldn't have + nothin' ter do with nobody fur a spell. Her heart jest seemed to turn + bitter at the core.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. I've heard about that now,” rejoined Nancy; “an' that's why + you could 'a' knocked me down with a feather when I see HIM at the door—him, + what she hain't spoke to for years! But I let him in an' went an' told + her.” + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” Old Tom held his breath suspended. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'—at first. She was so still I thought she hadn't heard; and + I was jest goin' ter say it over when she speaks up quiet like: 'Tell Mr. + Pendleton I will be down at once.' An' I come an' told him. Then I come + out here an' told you,” finished Nancy, casting another backward glance + toward the house. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Old Tom; and fell to work again. + </p> + <p> + In the ceremonious “parlor” of the Harrington homestead, Mr. John + Pendleton did not have to wait long before a swift step warned him of Miss + Polly's coming. As he attempted to rise, she made a gesture of + remonstrance. She did not offer her hand, however, and her face was coldly + reserved. + </p> + <p> + “I called to ask for—Pollyanna,” he began at once, a little + brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. She is about the same,” said Miss Polly. + </p> + <p> + “And that is—won't you tell me HOW she is?” His voice was not quite + steady this time. + </p> + <p> + A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman's face. + </p> + <p> + “I can't, I wish I could!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—you don't know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But—the doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Warren himself seems—at sea. He is in correspondence now with a + New York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but what WERE her injuries that you do know?” + </p> + <p> + “A slight cut on the head, one or two bruises, and—and an injury to + the spine which has seemed to cause—paralysis from the hips down.” + </p> + <p> + A low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence; then, huskily, he + asked: + </p> + <p> + “And Pollyanna—how does she—take it?” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't understand—at all—how things really are. And I + CAN'T tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “But she must know—something!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the gesture that + had become so common to her of late. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. She knows she can't—move; but she thinks her legs are—broken. + She says she's glad it's broken legs like yours rather than + 'lifelong-invalids' like Mrs. Snow's; because broken legs get well, and + the other—doesn't. She talks like that all the time, until it—it + seems as if I should—die!” + </p> + <p> + Through the blur of tears in his own eyes, the man saw the drawn face + opposite, twisted with emotion. Involuntarily his thoughts went back to + what Pollyanna had said when he had made his final plea for her presence: + “Oh, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly—now!” + </p> + <p> + It was this thought that made him ask very gently, as soon as he could + control his voice: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get Pollyanna + to come and live with me.” + </p> + <p> + “With YOU!—Pollyanna!” + </p> + <p> + The man winced a little at the tone of her voice; but his own voice was + still impersonally cool when he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I wanted to adopt her—legally, you understand; making her my + heir, of course.” + </p> + <p> + The woman in the opposite chair relaxed a little. It came to her, + suddenly, what a brilliant future it would have meant for Pollyanna—this + adoption; and she wondered if Pollyanna were old enough and mercenary + enough—to be tempted by this man's money and position. + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of Pollyanna,” the man was continuing. “I am fond of her + both for her own sake, and for—her mother's. I stood ready to give + Pollyanna the love that had been twenty-five years in storage.” + </p> + <p> + “LOVE.” Miss Polly remembered suddenly why SHE had taken this child in the + first place—and with the recollection came the remembrance of + Pollyanna's own words uttered that very morning: “I love to be called + 'dear' by folks that belong to you!” And it was this love-hungry little + girl that had been offered the stored-up affection of twenty-five years:—and + she was old enough to be tempted by love! With a sinking heart Miss Polly + realized that. With a sinking heart, too, she realized something else: the + dreariness of her own future now without Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said. And the man, recognizing the self-control that vibrated + through the harshness of the tone, smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + “She would not come,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “She would not leave you. She said you had been so good to her. She wanted + to stay with you—and she said she THOUGHT you wanted her to stay,” + he finished, as he pulled himself to his feet. + </p> + <p> + He did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned his face resolutely toward + the door. But instantly he heard a swift step at his side, and found a + shaking hand thrust toward him. + </p> + <p> + “When the specialist comes, and I know anything—definite about + Pollyanna, I will let you hear from me,” said a trembling voice. “Good-by—and + thank you for coming. Pollyanna will be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. A WAITING GAME + </h2> + <p> + On the day after John Pendleton's call at the Harrington homestead, Miss + Polly set herself to the task of preparing Pollyanna for the visit of the + specialist. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, my dear,” she began gently, “we have decided that we want + another doctor besides Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us + something new to do—to help you get well faster, you know.” + </p> + <p> + A joyous light came to Pollyanna's face. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton! Oh, Aunt Polly, I'd so love to have Dr. Chilton! I've wanted + him all the time, but I was afraid you didn't, on account of his seeing + you in the sun parlor that day, you know; so I didn't like to say + anything. But I'm so glad you do want him!” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly's face had turned white, then red, then back to white again. + But when she answered, she showed very plainly that she was trying to + speak lightly and cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, dear! It wasn't Dr. Chilton at all that I meant. It is a new + doctor—a very famous doctor from New York, who—who knows a + great deal about—about hurts like yours.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he knows half so much as Dr. Chilton.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he does, I'm sure, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pendleton's broken leg, Aunt + Polly. If—if you don't mind VERY much, I WOULD LIKE to have Dr. + Chilton—truly I would!” + </p> + <p> + A distressed color suffused Miss Polly's face. For a moment she did not + speak at all; then she said gently—though yet with a touch of her + old stern decisiveness: + </p> + <p> + “But I do mind, Pollyanna. I mind very much. I would do anything—almost + anything for you, my dear; but I—for reasons which I do not care to + speak of now, I don't wish Dr. Chilton called in on—on this case. + And believe me, he can NOT know so much about—about your trouble, as + this great doctor does, who will come from New York to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna still looked unconvinced. + </p> + <p> + “But, Aunt Polly, if you LOVED Dr. Chilton—” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT, Pollyanna?” Aunt Polly's voice was very sharp now. Her cheeks were + very red, too. + </p> + <p> + “I say, if you loved Dr. Chilton, and didn't love the other one,” sighed + Pollyanna, “seems to me that would make some difference in the good he + would do; and I love Dr. Chilton.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse entered the room at that moment, and Aunt Polly rose to her feet + abruptly, a look of relief on her face. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, Pollyanna,” she said, a little stiffly; “but I'm afraid + you'll have to let me be the judge, this time. Besides, it's already + arranged. The New York doctor is coming to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + As it happened, however, the New York doctor did not come “to-morrow.” At + the last moment a telegram told of an unavoidable delay owing to the + sudden illness of the specialist himself. This led Pollyanna into a + renewed pleading for the substitution of Dr. Chilton—“which would be + so easy now, you know.” + </p> + <p> + But as before, Aunt Polly shook her head and said “no, dear,” very + decisively, yet with a still more anxious assurance that she would do + anything—anything but that—to please her dear Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + As the days of waiting passed, one by one, it did indeed, seem that Aunt + Polly was doing everything (but that) that she could do to please her + niece. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't 'a' believed it—you couldn't 'a' made me believe it,” + Nancy said to Old Tom one morning. “There don't seem ter be a minute in + the day that Miss Polly ain't jest hangin' 'round waitin' ter do somethin' + for that blessed lamb if 'tain't more than ter let in the cat—an' + her what wouldn't let Fluff nor Buff up-stairs for love nor money a week + ago; an' now she lets 'em tumble all over the bed jest 'cause it pleases + Miss Pollyanna! + </p> + <p> + “An' when she ain't doin' nothin' else, she's movin' them little glass + danglers 'round ter diff'rent winders in the room so the sun'll make the + 'rainbows dance,' as that blessed child calls it. She's sent Timothy down + ter Cobb's greenhouse three times for fresh flowers—an' that besides + all the posies fetched in ter her, too. An' the other day, if I didn't + find her sittin' 'fore the bed with the nurse actually doin' her hair, an' + Miss Pollyanna lookin' on an' bossin' from the bed, her eyes all shinin' + an' happy. An' I declare ter goodness, if Miss Polly hain't wore her hair + like that every day now—jest ter please that blessed child!” + </p> + <p> + Old Tom chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain't lookin' none the worse—for + wearin' them 'ere curls 'round her forehead,” he observed dryly. + </p> + <p> + “'Course she ain't,” retorted Nancy, indignantly. “She looks like FOLKS, + now. She's actually almost—” + </p> + <p> + “Keerful, now, Nancy!” interrupted the old man, with a slow grin. “You + know what you said when I told ye she was handsome once.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she ain't handsome, of course; but I will own up she don't look like + the same woman, what with the ribbons an' lace jiggers Miss Pollyanna + makes her wear 'round her neck.” + </p> + <p> + “I told ye so,” nodded the man. “I told ye she wa'n't—old.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll own up she HAIN'T got quite so good an imitation of it—as + she did have, 'fore Miss Pollyanna come. Say, Mr. Tom, who WAS her A + lover? I hain't found that out, yet; I hain't, I hain't!” + </p> + <p> + “Hain't ye?” asked the old man, with an odd look on his face. “Well, I + guess ye won't then from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Tom, come on, now,” wheedled the girl. “Ye see, there ain't many + folks here that I CAN ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe not. But there's one, anyhow, that ain't answerin',” grinned Old + Tom. Then, abruptly, the light died from his eyes. “How is she, ter-day—the + little gal?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy shook her head. Her face, too, had sobered. + </p> + <p> + “Just the same, Mr. Tom. There ain't no special diff'rence, as I can see—or + anybody, I guess. She jest lays there an' sleeps an' talks some, an' tries + ter smile an' be 'glad' 'cause the sun sets or the moon rises, or some + other such thing, till it's enough ter make yer heart break with achin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; it's the 'game'—bless her sweet heart!” nodded Old Tom, + blinking a little. + </p> + <p> + “She told YOU, then, too, about that 'ere—game?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. She told me long ago.” The old man hesitated, then went on, his + lips twitching a little. “I was growlin' one day 'cause I was so bent up + and crooked; an' what do ye s'pose the little thing said?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't guess. I wouldn't think she could find ANYTHIN' about THAT ter + be glad about!” + </p> + <p> + “She did. She said I could be glad, anyhow, that I didn't have ter STOOP + SO FAR TER DO MY WEEDIN' 'cause I was already bent part way over.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy gave a wistful laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't surprised, after all. You might know she'd find somethin'. + We've been playin' it—that game—since almost the first, 'cause + there wa'n't no one else she could play it with—though she did speak + of—her aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “MISS POLLY!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you hain't got such an awful diff'rent opinion o' the mistress + than I have,” she bridled. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom stiffened. + </p> + <p> + “I was only thinkin' 'twould be—some of a surprise—to her,” he + explained with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I guess 'twould be—THEN,” retorted Nancy. “I ain't + sayin' what 'twould be NOW. I'd believe anythin' o' the mistress now—even + that she'd take ter playin' it herself!” + </p> + <p> + “But hain't the little gal told her—ever? She's told ev'ry one else, + I guess. I'm hearin' of it ev'rywhere, now, since she was hurted,” said + Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she didn't tell Miss Polly,” rejoined Nancy. “Miss Pollyanna told + me long ago that she couldn't tell her, 'cause her aunt didn't like ter + have her talk about her father; an' 'twas her father's game, an' she'd + have ter talk about him if she did tell it. So she never told her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see, I see.” The old man nodded his head slowly. “They was always + bitter against the minister chap—all of 'em, 'cause he took Miss + Jennie away from 'em. An' Miss Polly—young as she was—couldn't + never forgive him; she was that fond of Miss Jennie—in them days. I + see, I see. 'Twas a bad mess,” he sighed, as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'twas—all 'round, all 'round,” sighed Nancy in her turn, as + she went back to her kitchen. + </p> + <p> + For no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look + cheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was openly nervous and + impatient. Miss Polly said little; but even the softening waves of hair + about her face, and the becoming laces at her throat, could not hide the + fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna—Pollyanna + petted the dog, smoothed the cat's sleek head, admired the flowers and ate + the fruits and jellies that were sent in to her; and returned innumerable + cheery answers to the many messages of love and inquiry that were brought + to her bedside. But she, too, grew pale and thin; and the nervous activity + of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the pitiful + motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs now lying so + woefully quiet under the blankets. + </p> + <p> + As to the game—Pollyanna told Nancy these days how glad she was + going to be when she could go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to + call on Mr. Pendleton, and go to ride with Dr. Chilton nor did she seem to + realize that all this “gladness” was in the future, not the present. + Nancy, however, did realize it—and cry about it, when she was alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. A DOOR AJAR + </h2> + <p> + Just a week from the time Dr. Mead, the specialist, was first expected, he + came. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind gray eyes, and a + cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once, and told him so. + </p> + <p> + “You look quite a lot like MY doctor, you see,” she added engagingly. + </p> + <p> + “YOUR doctor?” Dr. Mead glanced in evident surprise at Dr. Warren, talking + with the nurse a few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small, brown-eyed man + with a pointed brown beard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, THAT isn't my doctor,” smiled Pollyanna, divining his thought. “Dr. + Warren is Aunt Polly's doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h!” said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes resting on Miss Polly, + who, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness. + “You see, <i>I</i> wanted Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted + you. She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, anyway about—about + broken legs like mine. And of course if you do, I can be glad for that. Do + you?” + </p> + <p> + A swift something crossed the doctor's face that Pollyanna could not quite + translate. + </p> + <p> + “Only time can tell that, little girl,” he said gently; then he turned a + grave face toward Dr. Warren, who had just come to the bedside. + </p> + <p> + Every one said afterward that it was the cat that did it. Certainly, if + Fluffy had not poked an insistent paw and nose against Pollyanna's + unlatched door, the door would not have swung noiselessly open on its + hinges until it stood perhaps a foot ajar; and if the door had not been + open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt's words. + </p> + <p> + In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly stood talking. In + Pollyanna's room Fluffy had just jumped to the bed with a little purring + “meow” of joy when through the open door sounded clearly and sharply Aunt + Polly's agonized exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Not that! Doctor, not that! You don't mean—the child—will + NEVER WALK again!” + </p> + <p> + It was all confusion then. First, from the bedroom came Pollyanna's + terrified “Aunt Polly Aunt Polly!” Then Miss Polly, seeing the open door + and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan and—for + the first time in her life—fainted dead away. + </p> + <p> + The nurse, with a choking “She heard!” stumbled toward the open door. The + two doctors stayed with Miss Polly. Dr. Mead had to stay—he had + caught Miss Polly as she fell. Dr. Warren stood by, helplessly. It was not + until Pollyanna cried out again sharply and the nurse closed the door, + that the two men, with a despairing glance into each other's eyes, awoke + to the immediate duty of bringing the woman in Dr. Mead's arms back to + unhappy consciousness. + </p> + <p> + In Pollyanna's room, the nurse had found a purring gray cat on the bed + vainly trying to attract the attention of a white-faced, wild-eyed little + girl. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick, + please!” + </p> + <p> + The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very + pale. + </p> + <p> + “She—she can't come just this minute, dear. She will—a little + later. What is it? Can't I—get it?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “But I want to know what she said—just now. Did you hear her? I want + Aunt Polly—she said something. I want her to tell me 'tisn't true—'tisn't + true!” + </p> + <p> + The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Something in her face sent an + added terror to Pollyanna's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isn't true! You don't + mean I can't ever—walk again?” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, dear—don't, don't!” choked the nurse. “Perhaps he + didn't know. Perhaps he was mistaken. There's lots of things that could + happen, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But Aunt Polly said he did know! She said he knew more than anybody else + about—about broken legs like mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make mistakes sometimes. Just—just + don't think any more about it now—please don't, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna flung out her arms wildly. “But I can't help thinking about it,” + she sobbed. “It's all there is now to think about. Why, Miss Hunt, how am + I going to school, or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or—or + anybody?” She caught her breath and sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly + she stopped and looked up, a new terror in her eyes. “Why, Miss Hunt, if I + can't walk, how am I ever going to be glad for—ANYTHING?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hunt did not know “the game;” but she did know that her patient must + be quieted, and that at once. In spite of her own perturbation and + heartache, her hands had not been idle, and she stood now at the bedside + with the quieting powder ready. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, dear, just take this,” she soothed; “and by and by we'll be + more rested, and we'll see what can be done then. Things aren't half as + bad as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Obediently Pollyanna took the medicine, and sipped the water from the + glass in Miss Hunt's hand. + </p> + <p> + “I know; that sounds like things father used to say,” faltered Pollyanna, + blinking off the tears. “He said there was always something about + everything that might be worse; but I reckon he'd never just heard he + couldn't ever walk again. I don't see how there CAN be anything about + that, that could be worse—do you?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust herself to speak just then. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. TWO VISITS + </h2> + <p> + It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Mead's + verdict. Miss Polly had remembered her promise to let him have direct + information from the house. To go herself, or to write a letter, she felt + to be almost equally out of the question. It occurred to her then to send + Nancy. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Nancy would have rejoiced greatly at this + extraordinary opportunity to see something of the House of Mystery and its + master. But to-day her heart was too heavy to, rejoice at anything. She + scarcely even looked about her at all, indeed, during the few minutes, she + waited for Mr. John Pendleton to appear. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Nancy, sir,” she said respectfully, in response to the surprised + questioning of his eyes, when he came into the room. “Miss Harrington sent + me to tell you about—Miss Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the + anxiety that lay behind that short “well?” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't well, Mr. Pendleton,” she choked. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean—” He paused, and she bowed her head miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. He says—she can't walk again—never.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, + in a voice shaken with emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Poor—little—girl! Poor—little—girl!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. She had not supposed + that sour, cross, stern John Pendleton could look like that. In a moment + he spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice. + </p> + <p> + “It seems cruel—never to dance in the sunshine again! My little + prism girl!” + </p> + <p> + There was another silence; then, abruptly, the man asked: + </p> + <p> + “She herself doesn't know yet—of course—does she?” + </p> + <p> + “But she does, sir.” sobbed Nancy, “an' that's what makes it all the + harder. She found out—drat that cat! I begs yer pardon,” apologized + the girl, hurriedly. “It's only that the cat pushed open the door an' Miss + Pollyanna overheard 'em talkin'. She found out—that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor—little—girl!” sighed the man again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. You'd say so, sir, if you could see her,” choked Nancy. “I + hain't seen her but twice since she knew about it, an' it done me up both + times. Ye see it's all so fresh an' new to her, an' she keeps thinkin' all + the time of new things she can't do—NOW. It worries her, too, 'cause + she can't seem ter be glad—maybe you don't know about her game, + though,” broke off Nancy, apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “The 'glad game'?” asked the man. “Oh, yes; she told me of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally ter most folks. But + ye see, now she—she can't play it herself, an' it worries her. She + says she can't think of a thing—not a thing about this not walkin' + again, ter be glad about.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why should she?” retorted the man, almost savagely. + </p> + <p> + Nancy shifted her feet uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way I felt, too—till I happened ter think—it WOULD + be easier if she could find somethin', ye know. So I tried to—to + remind her.” + </p> + <p> + “To remind her! Of what?” John Pendleton's voice was still angrily + impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Of—of how she told others ter play it Mis' Snow, and the rest, ye + know—and what she said for them ter do. But the poor little lamb + just cries, an' says it don't seem the same, somehow. She says it's easy + ter TELL lifelong invalids how ter be glad, but 'tain't the same thing + when you're the lifelong invalid yerself, an' have ter try ter do it. She + says she's told herself over an' over again how glad she is that other + folks ain't like her; but that all the time she's sayin' it, she ain't + really THINKIN' of anythin' only how she can't ever walk again.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then I tried ter remind her how she used ter say the game was all the + nicer ter play when—when it was hard,” resumed Nancy, in a dull + voice. “But she says that, too, is diff'rent—when it really IS hard. + An' I must be goin', now, sir,” she broke off abruptly. + </p> + <p> + At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly: + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't be tellin' Miss Pollyanna that—that you'd seen Jimmy + Bean again, I s'pose, sir, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you could—as I haven't seen him,” observed the man + a little shortly. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', sir, only—well, ye see, that's one of the things that she + was feelin' bad about, that she couldn't take him ter see you, now. She + said she'd taken him once, but she didn't think he showed off very well + that day, and that she was afraid you didn't think he would make a very + nice child's presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; + but I didn't, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know—what she means.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir. It was only that she was wantin' ter take him again, she + said, so's ter show ye he really was a lovely child's presence. And now + she—can't—drat that autymobile! I begs yer pardon, sir. + Good-by!” And Nancy fled precipitately. + </p> + <p> + It did not take long for the entire town of Beldingsville to learn that + the great New York doctor had said Pollyanna Whittier would never walk + again; and certainly never before had the town been so stirred. Everybody + knew by sight now the piquant little freckled face that had always a smile + of greeting; and almost everybody knew of the “game” that Pollyanna was + playing. To think that now never again would that smiling face be seen on + their streets—never again would that cheery little voice proclaim + the gladness of some everyday experience! It seemed unbelievable, + impossible, cruel. + </p> + <p> + In kitchens and sitting rooms, and over back-yard fences women talked of + it, and wept openly. On street corners and in store lounging-places the + men talked, too, and wept—though not so openly. And neither the + talking nor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels of the news + itself, came Nancy's pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what + had come to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact that she could not + play the game; that she could not now be glad over—anything. + </p> + <p> + It was then that the same thought must have, in some way, come to + Pollyanna's friends. At all events, almost at once, the mistress of the + Harrington homestead, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls: + calls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men, + women, and children—many of whom Miss Polly had not supposed that + her niece knew at all. + </p> + <p> + Some came in and sat down for a stiff five or ten minutes. Some stood + awkwardly on the porch steps, fumbling with hats or hand-bags, according + to their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of flowers, or a dainty to + tempt the palate. Some cried frankly. Some turned their backs and blew + their noses furiously. But all inquired very anxiously for the little + injured girl; and all sent to her some message—and it was these + messages which, after a time, stirred Miss Polly to action. + </p> + <p> + First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches to-day. + </p> + <p> + “I don't need to tell you how shocked I am,” he began almost harshly. “But + can—nothing be done?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're 'doing,' of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain + treatments and medicines that might help, and Dr. Warren is carrying them + out to the letter, of course. But—Dr. Mead held out almost no hope.” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton rose abruptly—though he had but just come. His face + was white, and his mouth was set into stern lines. Miss Polly, looking at + him, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her + presence. At the door he turned. + </p> + <p> + “I have a message for Pollyanna,” he said. “Will you tell her, please, + that I have seen Jimmy Bean and—that he's going to be my boy + hereafter. Tell her I thought she would be—GLAD to know. I shall + adopt him, probably.” + </p> + <p> + For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control. + </p> + <p> + “You will adopt Jimmy Bean!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + The man lifted his chin a little. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she + would be—GLAD!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of—of course,” faltered Miss Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the floor Miss Polly stood, silent and amazed, still + looking after the man who had just left her. Even yet she could scarcely + believe what her ears had heard. John Pendleton ADOPT Jimmy Bean? John + Pendleton, wealthy, independent, morose, reputed to be miserly and + supremely selfish, to adopt a little boy—and such a little boy? + </p> + <p> + With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went up-stairs to Pollyanna's room. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He has just + been here. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. + He said he thought you'd be glad to know it.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna's wistful little face flamed into sudden joy. + </p> + <p> + “Glad? GLAD? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, I've so wanted to + find a place for Jimmy—and that's such a lovely place! Besides, I'm + so glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he'll have the child's + presence.” + </p> + <p> + “The—what?” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna colored painfully. She had forgotten that she had never told her + aunt of Mr. Pendleton's desire to adopt her—and certainly she would + not wish to tell her now that she had ever thought for a minute of leaving + her—this dear Aunt Polly! + </p> + <p> + “The child's presence,” stammered Pollyanna, hastily. “Mr. Pendleton told + me once, you see, that only a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence + could make a—a home. And now he's got it—the child's + presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I—see,” said Miss Polly very gently; and she did see—more + than Pollyanna realized. She saw something of the pressure that was + probably brought to bear on Pollyanna herself at the time John Pendleton + was asking HER to be the “child's presence,” which was to transform his + great pile of gray stone into a home. “I see,” she finished, her eyes + stinging with sudden tears. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask further embarrassing questions, + hastened to lead the conversation away from the Pendleton house and its + master. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton says so, too—that it takes a woman's hand and heart, or + a child's presence, to make a home, you know,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly turned with a start. + </p> + <p> + “DR. CHILTON! How do you know—that?” + </p> + <p> + “He told me so. 'Twas when he said he lived in just rooms, you know—not + a home.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window. + </p> + <p> + “So I asked him why he didn't get 'em—a woman's hand and heart, and + have a home.” + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna!” Miss Polly had turned sharply. Her cheeks showed a sudden + color. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did. He looked so—so sorrowful.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he—say?” Miss Polly asked the question as if in spite of + some force within her that was urging her not to ask it. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you + couldn't always get 'em for the asking.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Miss Polly's eyes had turned again to the + window. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna sighed. + </p> + <p> + “He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said that + low, too, but I heard him. He said that he'd give all the world if he did + have one woman's hand and heart. Why, Aunt Polly, what's the matter?” Aunt + Polly had risen hurriedly and gone to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dear. I was changing the position of this prism,” said Aunt + Polly, whose whole face now was aflame. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS + </h2> + <p> + It was not long after John Pendleton's second visit that Milly Snow called + one afternoon. Milly Snow had never before been to the Harrington + homestead. She blushed and looked very embarrassed when Miss Polly entered + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I—I came to inquire for the little girl,” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?” rejoined + Miss Polly, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I came to tell you—that is, to ask you to tell Miss + Pollyanna,” hurried on the girl, breathlessly and incoherently. “We think + it's—so awful—so perfectly awful that the little thing can't + ever walk again; and after all she's done for us, too—for mother, + you know, teaching her to play the game, and all that. And when we heard + how now she couldn't play it herself—poor little dear! I'm sure I + don't see how she CAN, either, in her condition!—but when we + remembered all the things she'd said to us, we thought if she could only + know what she HAD done for us, that it would HELP, you know, in her own + case, about the game, because she could be glad—that is, a little + glad—” Milly stopped helplessly, and seemed to be waiting for Miss + Polly to speak. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly had sat politely listening, but with a puzzled questioning in + her eyes. Only about half of what had been said, had she understood. She + was thinking now that she always had known that Milly Snow was “queer,” + but she had not supposed she was crazy. In no other way, however, could + she account for this incoherent, illogical, unmeaning rush of words. When + the pause came she filled it with a quiet: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I quite understand, Milly. Just what is it that you want me + to tell my niece?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it; I want you to tell her,” answered the girl, feverishly. + “Make her see what she's done for us. Of course she's SEEN some things, + because she's been there, and she's known mother is different; but I want + her to know HOW different she is—and me, too. I'm different. I've + been trying to play it—the game—a little.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly frowned. She would have asked what Milly meant by this “game,” + but there was no opportunity. Milly was rushing on again with nervous + volubility. + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing was ever right before—for mother. She was always + wanting 'em different. And, really, I don't know as one could blame her + much—under the circumstances. But now she lets me keep the shades + up, and she takes interest in things—how she looks, and her + nightdress, and all that. And she's actually begun to knit little things—reins + and baby blankets for fairs and hospitals. And she's so interested, and so + GLAD to think she can do it!—and that was all Miss Pollyanna's + doings, you know, 'cause she told mother she could be glad she'd got her + hands and arms, anyway; and that made mother wonder right away why she + didn't DO something with her hands and arms. And so she began to do + something—to knit, you know. And you can't think what a different + room it is now, what with the red and blue and yellow worsteds, and the + prisms in the window that SHE gave her—why, it actually makes you + feel BETTER just to go in there now; and before I used to dread it + awfully, it was so dark and gloomy, and mother was so—so unhappy, + you know. + </p> + <p> + “And so we want you to please tell Miss Pollyanna that we understand it's + all because of her. And please say we're so glad we know her, that we + thought, maybe if she knew it, it would make her a little glad that she + knew us. And—and that's all,” sighed Milly, rising hurriedly to her + feet. “You'll tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course,” murmured Miss Polly, wondering just how much of this + remarkable discourse she could remember to tell. + </p> + <p> + These visits of John Pendleton and Milly Snow were only the first of many; + and always there were the messages—the messages which were in some + ways so curious that they caused Miss Polly more and more to puzzle over + them. + </p> + <p> + One day there was the little Widow Benton. Miss Polly knew her well, + though they had never called upon each other. By reputation she knew her + as the saddest little woman in town—one who was always in black. + To-day, however, Mrs. Benton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat, + though there were tears in her eyes. She spoke of her grief and horror at + the accident; then she asked diffidently if she might see Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A little later—perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Benton wiped her eyes, rose, and turned to go. But after she had + almost reached the hall door she came back hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Harrington, perhaps, you'd give her—a message,” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Mrs. Benton; I shall be very glad to.” + </p> + <p> + Still the little woman hesitated; then she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell her, please, that—that I've put on THIS,” she said, + just touching the blue bow at her throat. Then, at Miss Polly's + ill-concealed look of surprise, she added: “The little girl has been + trying for so long to make me wear—some color, that I thought she'd + be—glad to know I'd begun. She said that Freddy would be so glad to + see it, if I would. You know Freddy's ALL I have now. The others have all—” + Mrs. Benton shook her head and turned away. “If you'll just tell Pollyanna—SHE'LL + understand.” And the door closed after her. + </p> + <p> + A little later, that same day, there was the other widow—at least, + she wore widow's garments. Miss Polly did not know her at all. She + wondered vaguely how Pollyanna could have known her. The lady gave her + name as “Mrs. Tarbell.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a stranger to you, of course,” she began at once. “But I'm not a + stranger to your little niece, Pollyanna. I've been at the hotel all + summer, and every day I've had to take long walks for my health. It was on + these walks that I've met your niece—she's such a dear little girl! + I wish I could make you understand what she's been to me. I was very sad + when I came up here; and her bright face and cheery ways reminded me of—my + own little girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear of the + accident; and then when I learned that the poor child would never walk + again, and that she was so unhappy because she couldn't be glad any longer—the + dear child!—I just had to come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” murmured Miss Polly. + </p> + <p> + “But it is you who are to be kind,” demurred the other. “I—I want + you to give her a message from me. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now. Yes, I know + it sounds odd, and you don't understand. But—if you'll pardon me I'd + rather not explain.” Sad lines came to the lady's mouth, and the smile + left her eyes. “Your niece will know just what I mean; and I felt that I + must tell—her. Thank you; and pardon me, please, for any seeming + rudeness in my call,” she begged, as she took her leave. + </p> + <p> + Thoroughly mystified now, Miss Polly hurried up-stairs to Pollyanna's + room. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She's sick, and awfully sad; and she's at + the hotel, and takes long walks. We go together. I mean—we used to.” + Pollyanna's voice broke, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “We'll, she's just been here, dear. She left a message for you—but + she wouldn't tell me what it meant. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell + is glad now.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna clapped her hands softly. + </p> + <p> + “Did she say that—really? Oh, I'm so glad!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's the game, and—” Pollyanna stopped short, her fingers to + her lips. + </p> + <p> + “What game?” + </p> + <p> + “N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is—I can't tell it unless I tell + other things that—that I'm not to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + It was on Miss Polly's tongue to question her niece further; but the + obvious distress on the little girl's face stayed the words before they + were uttered. + </p> + <p> + Not long after Mrs. Tarbell's visit, the climax came. It came in the shape + of a call from a certain young woman with unnaturally pink cheeks and + abnormally yellow hair; a young woman who wore high heels and cheap + jewelry; a young woman whom Miss Polly knew very well by reputation—but + whom she was angrily amazed to meet beneath the roof of the Harrington + homestead. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew back, indeed, as she entered + the room. + </p> + <p> + The woman rose at once. Her eyes were very red, as if she had been crying. + Half defiantly she asked if she might, for a moment, see the little girl, + Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly said no. She began to say it very sternly; but something in the + woman's pleading eyes made her add the civil explanation that no one was + allowed yet to see Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + The woman hesitated; then a little brusquely she spoke. Her chin was still + at a slightly defiant tilt. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Mrs. Payson—Mrs. Tom Payson. I presume you've heard of + me—most of the good people in the town have—and maybe some of + the things you've heard ain't true. But never mind that. It's about the + little girl I came. I heard about the accident, and—and it broke me + all up. Last week I heard how she couldn't ever walk again, and—and + I wished I could give up my two uselessly well legs for hers. She'd do + more good trotting around on 'em one hour than I could in a hundred years. + But never mind that. Legs ain't always given to the one who can make the + best use of 'em, I notice.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and cleared her throat; but when she resumed her voice was + still husky. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you don't know it, but I've seen a good deal of that little girl of + yours. We live on the Pendleton Hill road, and she used to go by often—only + she didn't always GO BY. She came in and played with the kids and talked + to me—and my man, when he was home. She seemed to like it, and to + like us. She didn't know, I suspect, that her kind of folks don't + generally call on my kind. Maybe if they DID call more, Miss Harrington, + there wouldn't be so many—of my kind,” she added, with sudden + bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “Be that as it may, she came; and she didn't do herself no harm, and she + did do us good—a lot o' good. How much she won't know—nor + can't know, I hope; 'cause if she did, she'd know other things—that + I don't want her to know. + </p> + <p> + “But it's just this. It's been hard times with us this year, in more ways + than one. We've been blue and discouraged—my man and me, and ready + for—'most anything. We was reckoning on getting a divorce about now, + and letting the kids well, we didn't know what we would do with the kids. + Then came the accident, and what we heard about the little girl's never + walking again. And we got to thinking how she used to come and sit on our + doorstep and train with the kids, and laugh, and—and just be glad. + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will tell her,” promised Miss Polly, a little faintly. Then, with + sudden impulse, she stepped forward and held out her hand. “And thank you + for coming, Mrs. Payson,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + The defiant chin fell. The lips above it trembled visibly. With an + incoherently mumbled something, Mrs. Payson blindly clutched at the + outstretched hand, turned, and fled. + </p> + <p> + The door had scarcely closed behind her before Miss Polly was confronting + Nancy in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly spoke sharply. The series of puzzling, disconcerting visits of + the last few days, culminating as they had in the extraordinary experience + of the afternoon, had strained her nerves to the snapping point. Not since + Miss Pollyanna's accident had Nancy heard her mistress speak so sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd 'game' is that the whole town + seems to be babbling about? And what, please, has my niece to do with it? + WHY does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her + that they're 'playing it'? As near as I can judge, half the town are + putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, or learning to like + something they never liked before, and all because of Pollyanna. I tried + to ask the child herself about it, but I can't seem to make much headway, + and of course I don't like to worry her—now. But from something I + heard her say to you last night, I should judge you were one of them, too. + Now WILL you tell me what it all means?” + </p> + <p> + To Miss Polly's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “It means that ever since last June that blessed child has jest been + makin' the whole town glad, an' now they're turnin' 'round an' tryin' ter + make her a little glad, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Just glad! That's the game.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly actually stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “There you go like all the rest, Nancy. What game?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked her squarely in + the eye. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell ye, ma'am. It's a game Miss Pollyanna's father learned her ter + play. She got a pair of crutches once in a missionary barrel when she was + wantin' a doll; an' she cried, of course, like any child would. It seems + 'twas then her father told her that there wasn't ever anythin' but what + there was somethin' about it that you could be glad about; an' that she + could be glad about them crutches.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad for—CRUTCHES!” Miss Polly choked back a sob—she was + thinking of the helpless little legs on the bed up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. That's what I said, an' Miss Pollyanna said that's what she said, + too. But he told her she COULD be glad—'cause she DIDN'T NEED 'EM.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h!” cried Miss Polly. + </p> + <p> + “And after that she said he made a regular game of it—findin' + somethin' in everythin' ter be glad about. An' she said ye could do it, + too, and that ye didn't seem ter mind not havin' the doll so much, 'cause + ye was so glad ye DIDN'T need the crutches. An' they called it the 'jest + bein' glad' game. That's the game, ma'am. She's played it ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “But, how—how—” Miss Polly came to a helpless pause. + </p> + <p> + “An' you'd be surprised ter find how cute it works, ma'am, too,” + maintained Nancy, with almost the eagerness of Pollyanna herself. “I wish + I could tell ye what a lot she's done for mother an' the folks out home. + She's been ter see 'em, ye know, twice, with me. She's made me glad, too, + on such a lot o' things—little things, an' big things; an' it's made + 'em so much easier. For instance, I don't mind 'Nancy' for a name half as + much since she told me I could be glad 'twa'n't 'Hephzibah.' An' there's + Monday mornin's, too, that I used ter hate so. She's actually made me glad + for Monday mornin's.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad—for Monday mornings!” + </p> + <p> + Nancy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I know it does sound nutty, ma'am. But let me tell ye. That blessed lamb + found out I hated Monday mornin's somethin' awful; an' what does she up + an' tell me one day but this: 'Well, anyhow, Nancy, I should think you + could be gladder on Monday mornin' than on any other day in the week, + because 'twould be a whole WEEK before you'd have another one!' An' I'm + blest if I hain't thought of it ev'ry Monday mornin' since—an' it + HAS helped, ma'am. It made me laugh, anyhow, ev'ry time I thought of it; + an' laughin' helps, ye know—it does, it does!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly bit her lip. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and—these others?” Miss Polly's voice shook now. + </p> + <p> + “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. An' so they've been comin' ev'ry day ter tell her how glad she's + made THEM, hopin' that'll help some. Ye see, she's always wanted ev'rybody + ter play the game with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know somebody who'll play it—now,” choked Miss Polly, as + she turned and sped through the kitchen doorway. + </p> + <p> + Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll believe anythin'—anythin' now,” she muttered to herself. + “Ye can't stump me with anythin' I wouldn't believe, now—o' Miss + Polly!” + </p> + <p> + A little later, in Pollyanna's room, the nurse left Miss Polly and + Pollyanna alone together. + </p> + <p> + “And you've had still another caller to-day, my dear,” announced Miss + Polly, in a voice she vainly tried to steady. “Do you remember Mrs. + Payson?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Payson? Why, I reckon I do! She lives on the way to Mr. Pendleton's, + and she's got the prettiest little girl baby three years old, and a boy + 'most five. She's awfully nice, and so's her husband—only they don't + seem to know how nice each other is. Sometimes they fight—I mean, + they don't quite agree. They're poor, too, they say, and of course they + don't ever have barrels, 'cause he isn't a missionary minister, you know, + like—well, he isn't.” + </p> + <p> + A faint color stole into Pollyanna's cheeks which was duplicated suddenly + in those of her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “But she wears real pretty clothes, sometimes, in spite of their being so + poor,” resumed Pollyanna, in some haste. “And she's got perfectly + beautiful rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in them; but she + says she's got one ring too many, and that she's going to throw it away + and get a divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? I'm afraid it + isn't very nice, because she didn't look happy when she talked about it. + And she said if she did get it, they wouldn't live there any more, and + that Mr. Payson would go 'way off, and maybe the children, too. But I + should think they'd rather keep the ring, even if they did have so many + more. Shouldn't you? Aunt Polly, what is a divorce?” + </p> + <p> + “But they aren't going 'way off, dear,” evaded Aunt Polly, hurriedly. + “They're going to stay right there together.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad! Then they'll be there when I go up to see—O dear!” + broke off the little girl, miserably. “Aunt Polly, why CAN'T I remember + that my legs don't go any more, and that I won't ever, ever go up to see + Mr. Pendleton again?” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, don't,” choked her aunt. “Perhaps you'll drive up sometime. + But listen! I haven't told you, yet, all that Mrs. Payson said. She wanted + me to tell you that they—they were going to stay together and to + play the game, just as you wanted them to.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Did they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she said she hoped you'd be. That's why she told you, to make you—GLAD, + Pollyanna.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna looked up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Polly, you—you spoke just as if you knew—DO you + know about the game, Aunt Polly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” Miss Polly sternly forced her voice to be cheerfully + matter-of-fact. “Nancy told me. I think it's a beautiful game. I'm going + to play it now—with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Polly—YOU? I'm so glad! You see, I've really wanted you + most of anybody, all the time.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It was even harder this + time to keep her voice steady; but she did it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; and there are all those others, too. Why, Pollyanna, I think + all the town is playing that game now with you—even to the minister! + I haven't had a chance to tell you, yet, but this morning I met Mr. Ford + when I was down to the village, and he told me to say to you that just as + soon as you could see him, he was coming to tell you that he hadn't + stopped being glad over those eight hundred rejoicing texts that you told + him about. So you see, dear, it's just you that have done it. The whole + town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happier—and + all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game, and how + to play it.” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad,” she cried. Then, suddenly, a wonderful light illumined + her face. “Why, Aunt Polly, there IS something I can be glad about, after + all. I can be glad I've HAD my legs, anyway—else I couldn't have + done—that!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW + </h2> + <p> + One by one the short winter days came and went—but they were not + short to Pollyanna. They were long, and sometimes full of pain. Very + resolutely, these days, however, Pollyanna was turning a cheerful face + toward whatever came. Was she not specially bound to play the game, now + that Aunt Polly was playing it, too? And Aunt Polly found so many things + to be glad about! It was Aunt Polly, too, who discovered the story one day + about the two poor little waifs in a snow-storm who found a blown-down + door to crawl under, and who wondered what poor folks did that didn't have + any door! And it was Aunt Polly who brought home the other story that she + had heard about the poor old lady who had only two teeth, but who was so + glad that those two teeth “hit”! + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna now, like Mrs. Snow, was knitting wonderful things out of bright + colored worsteds that trailed their cheery lengths across the white + spread, and made Pollyanna—again like Mrs. Snow—so glad she + had her hands and arms, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna saw people now, occasionally, and always there were the loving + messages from those she could not see; and always they brought her + something new to think about—and Pollyanna needed new things to + think about. + </p> + <p> + Once she had seen John Pendleton, and twice she had seen Jimmy Bean. John + Pendleton had told her what a fine boy Jimmy was getting to be, and how + well he was doing. Jimmy had told her what a first-rate home he had, and + what bang-up “folks” Mr. Pendleton made; and both had said that it was all + owing to her. + </p> + <p> + “Which makes me all the gladder, you know, that I HAVE had my legs,” + Pollyanna confided to her aunt afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The winter passed, and spring came. The anxious watchers over Pollyanna's + condition could see little change wrought by the prescribed treatment. + There seemed every reason to believe, indeed, that Dr. Mead's worst fears + would be realized—that Pollyanna would never walk again. + </p> + <p> + Beldingsville, of course, kept itself informed concerning Pollyanna; and + of Beldingsville, one man in particular fumed and fretted himself into a + fever of anxiety over the daily bulletins which he managed in some way to + procure from the bed of suffering. As the days passed, however, and the + news came to be no better, but rather worse, something besides anxiety + began to show in the man's face: despair, and a very dogged determination, + each fighting for the mastery. In the end, the dogged determination won; + and it was then that Mr. John Pendleton, somewhat to his surprise, + received one Saturday morning a call from Dr. Thomas Chilton. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” began the doctor, abruptly, “I've come to you because you, + better than any one else in town, know something of my relations with Miss + Polly Harrington.” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton was conscious that he must have started visibly—he + did know something of the affair between Polly Harrington and Thomas + Chilton, but the matter had not been mentioned between them for fifteen + years, or more. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, trying to make his voice sound concerned enough for + sympathy, and not eager enough for curiosity. In a moment he saw that he + need not have worried, however: the doctor was quite too intent on his + errand to notice how that errand was received. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I + MUST make an examination.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “CAN'T I! Pendleton, you know very well I haven't been inside that door + for more than fifteen years. You don't know—but I will tell you—that + the mistress of that house told me that the NEXT time she ASKED me to + enter it, I might take it that she was begging my pardon, and that all + would be as before—which meant that she'd marry me. Perhaps you see + her summoning me now—but I don't!” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't you go—without a summons?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, hardly. <i>I</i> have some pride, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you're so anxious—couldn't you swallow your pride and forget + the quarrel—” + </p> + <p> + “Forget the quarrel!” interrupted the doctor, savagely. “I'm not talking + of that kind of pride. So far as THAT is concerned, I'd go from here there + on my knees—or on my head—if that would do any good. It's + PROFESSIONAL pride I'm talking about. It's a case of sickness, and I'm a + doctor. I can't butt in and say, 'Here, take me! can I?” + </p> + <p> + “Chilton, what was the quarrel?” demanded Pendleton. + </p> + <p> + The doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What was it? What's any lovers' quarrel after it's over?” he snarled, + pacing the room angrily. “A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or the + depth of a river, maybe—it might as well be, so far as its having + any real significance compared to the years of misery that follow them! + Never mind the quarrel! So far as I am concerned, I am willing to say + there was no quarrel. Pendleton, I must see that child. It may mean life + or death. It will mean—I honestly believe—nine chances out of + ten that Pollyanna Whittier will walk again!” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken clearly, impressively; and they were spoken just as + the one who uttered them had almost reached the open window near John + Pendleton's chair. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached the + ears of a small boy kneeling beneath the window on the ground outside. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of pulling up the first little + green weeds of the flowerbeds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Walk! Pollyanna!” John Pendleton was saying. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that from what I can hear and learn—a mile from her bedside—that + her case is very much like one that a college friend of mine has just + helped. For years he's been making this sort of thing a special study. + I've kept in touch with him, and studied, too, in a way. And from what I + hear—but I want to SEE the girl!” + </p> + <p> + John Pendleton came erect in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “You must see her, man! Couldn't you—say, through Dr. Warren?” + </p> + <p> + The other shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid not. Warren has been very decent, though. He told me himself + that he suggested consultation with me at the first, but—Miss + Harrington said no so decisively that he didn't dare venture it again, + even though he knew of my desire to see the child. Lately, some of his + best patients have come over to me—so of course that ties my hands + still more effectually. But, Pendleton, I've got to see that child! Think + of what it may mean to her—if I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and think of what it will mean—if you don't!” retorted + Pendleton. + </p> + <p> + “But how can I—without a direct request from her aunt?—which + I'll never get!” + </p> + <p> + “She must be made to ask you!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I guess you don't—nor anybody else. She's too proud and too + angry to ask me—after what she said years ago it would mean if she + did ask me. But when I think of that child, doomed to lifelong misery, and + when I think that maybe in my hands lies a chance of escape, but for that + confounded nonsense we call pride and professional etiquette, I—” He + did not finish his sentence, but with his hands thrust deep into his + pockets, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room again, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “But if she could be made to see—to understand,” urged John + Pendleton. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and who's going to do it?” demanded the doctor, with a savage turn. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I don't know,” groaned the other, miserably. + </p> + <p> + Outside the window Jimmy Bean stirred suddenly. Up to now he had scarcely + breathed, so intently had he listened to every word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by Jinks, I know!” he whispered, exultingly. “I'M a-goin' ter do + it!” And forthwith he rose to his feet, crept stealthily around the corner + of the house, and ran with all his might down Pendleton Hill. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM + </h2> + <p> + “It's Jimmy Bean. He wants ter see ye, ma'am,” announced Nancy in the + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Me?” rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. “Are you sure he did not + mean Miss Pollyanna? He may see her a few minutes to-day, if he likes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. I told him. But he said it was you he wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll come down.” And Miss Polly arose from her chair a little + wearily. + </p> + <p> + In the sitting room she found waiting for her a round-eyed, flushed-faced + boy, who began to speak at once. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am, I s'pose it's dreadful—what I'm doin', an' what I'm sayin'; + but I can't help it. It's for Pollyanna, and I'd walk over hot coals for + her, or face you, or—or anythin' like that, any time. An' I think + you would, too, if you thought there was a chance for her ter walk again. + An' so that's why I come ter tell ye that as long as it's only pride an' + et—et-somethin' that's keepin' Pollyanna from walkin', why I knew + you WOULD ask Dr. Chilton here if you understood—” + </p> + <p> + “Wh-at?” interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face + changing to one of angry indignation. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy sighed despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “There, I didn't mean ter make ye mad. That's why I begun by tellin' ye + about her walkin' again. I thought you'd listen ter that.” + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy, what are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'm tryin' ter tell ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then tell me. But begin at the beginning, and be sure I understand + each thing as you go. Don't plunge into the middle of it as you did before—and + mix everything all up!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy wet his lips determinedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ter begin with, Dr. Chilton come ter see Mr. Pendleton, an' they + talked in the library. Do you understand that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jimmy.” Miss Polly's voice was rather faint. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the window was open, and I was weedin' the flower-bed under it; an' + I heard 'em talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jimmy! LISTENING?” + </p> + <p> + “'Twa'n't about me, an' 'twa'n't sneak listenin',” bridled Jimmy. “And I'm + glad I listened. You will be when I tell ye. Why, it may make Pollyanna—walk!” + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy, what do you mean?” Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “There, I told ye so,” nodded Jimmy, contentedly. “Well, Dr. Chilton knows + some doctor somewhere that can cure Pollyanna, he thinks—make her + walk, ye know; but he can't tell sure till he SEES her. And he wants ter + see her somethin' awful, but he told Mr. Pendleton that you wouldn't let + him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly's face turned very red. + </p> + <p> + “But, Jimmy, I—I can't—I couldn't! That is, I didn't know!” + Miss Polly was twisting her fingers together helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an' that's what I come ter tell ye, so you WOULD know,” asserted + Jimmy, eagerly. “They said that for some reason—I didn't rightly + catch what—you wouldn't let Dr. Chilton come, an' you told Dr. + Warren so; an' Dr. Chilton couldn't come himself, without you asked him, + on account of pride an' professional et—et—well, et-somethin + anyway. An' they was wishin' somebody could make you understand, only they + didn't know who could; an' I was outside the winder, an' I says ter myself + right away, 'By Jinks, I'll do it!' An' I come—an' have I made ye + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, Jimmy, about that doctor,” implored Miss Polly, feverishly. + “Who was he? What did he do? Are they SURE he could make Pollyanna walk?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who he was. They didn't say. Dr. Chilton knows him, an' he's + just cured somebody just like her, Dr. Chilton thinks. Anyhow, they didn't + seem ter be doin' no worryin' about HIM. 'Twas YOU they was worryin' + about, 'cause you wouldn't let Dr. Chilton see her. An' say—you will + let him come, won't you?—now you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Polly turned her head from side to side. Her breath was coming in + little uneven, rapid gasps. Jimmy, watching her with anxious eyes, thought + she was going to cry. But she did not cry. After a minute she said + brokenly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I'll let—Dr. Chilton—see her. Now run home, Jimmy—quick! + I've got to speak to Dr. Warren. He's up-stairs now. I saw him drive in a + few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + A little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet an agitated, flushed-faced + Miss Polly in the hall. He was still more surprised to hear the lady say, + a little breathlessly: + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. Chilton to be called in + consultation, and—I refused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very + much desire that you SHOULD call in Dr. Chilton. Will you not ask him at + once—please? Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. A NEW UNCLE + </h2> + <p> + The next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber where Pollyanna lay watching + the dancing shimmer of color on the ceiling, a tall, broad-shouldered man + followed close behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Chilton!—oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am to see YOU!” cried + Pollyanna. And at the joyous rapture of the voice, more than one pair of + eyes in the room brimmed hot with sudden tears. “But, of course, if Aunt + Polly doesn't want—” + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, my dear; don't worry,” soothed Miss Polly, agitatedly, + hurrying forward. “I have told Dr. Chilton that—that I want him to + look you over—with Dr. Warren, this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then you asked him to come,” murmured Pollyanna, contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, I asked him. That is—” But it was too late. The adoring + happiness that had leaped to Dr. Chilton's eyes was unmistakable and Miss + Polly had seen it. With very pink cheeks she turned and left the room + hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr. + Chilton held out both his hands to Pollyanna. + </p> + <p> + “Little girl, I'm thinking that one of the very gladdest jobs you ever did + has been done to-day,” he said in a voice shaken with emotion. + </p> + <p> + At twilight a wonderfully tremulous, wonderfully different Aunt Polly + crept to Pollyanna's bedside. The nurse was at supper. They had the room + to themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, dear, I'm going to tell you—the very first one of all. + Some day I'm going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your—uncle. And + it's you that have done it all. Oh, Pollyanna, I'm so—happy! And so—glad!—darling!” + </p> + <p> + Pollyanna began to clap her hands; but even as she brought her small palms + together the first time, she stopped, and held them suspended. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, WERE you the woman's hand and heart he wanted so + long ago? You were—I know you were! And that's what he meant by + saying I'd done the gladdest job of all—to-day. I'm so glad! Why, + Aunt Polly, I don't know but I'm so glad that I don't mind—even my + legs, now!” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Polly swallowed a sob. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, some day, dear—” But Aunt Polly did not finish. Aunt Polly + did not dare to tell, yet, the great hope that Dr. Chilton had put into + her heart. But she did say this—and surely this was quite wonderful + enough—to Pollyanna's mind: + </p> + <p> + “Pollyanna, next week you're going to take a journey. On a nice + comfortable little bed you're going to be carried in cars and carriages to + a great doctor who has a big house many miles from here made on purpose + for just such people as you are. He's a dear friend of Dr. Chilton's, and + we're going to see what he can do for you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA + </h2> + <p> + “Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom:—Oh, I can—I can—I CAN + walk! I did to-day all the way from my bed to the window! It was six + steps. My, how good it was to be on legs again! + </p> + <p> + “All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all the nurses stood beside + of them and cried. A lady in the next ward who walked last week first, + peeked into the door, and another one who hopes she can walk next month, + was invited in to the party, and she laid on my nurse's bed and clapped + her hands. Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked through the + piazza window and called me 'Honey, child' when she wasn't crying too much + to call me anything. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why they cried. <i>I</i> wanted to sing and shout and yell! + Oh—oh—oh! just think, I can walk—walk—WALK! Now I + don't mind being here almost ten months, and I didn't miss the wedding, + anyhow. Wasn't that just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get + married right beside my bed, so I could see you. You always do think of + the gladdest things! + </p> + <p> + “Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way + there. I do. I don't think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It + will be so good just to walk. Oh, I'm so glad! I'm glad for everything. + Why, I'm glad now I lost my legs for a while, for you never, never know + how perfectly lovely legs are till you haven't got them—that go, I + mean. I'm going to walk eight steps to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “With heaps of love to everybody, + </p> + <p> + “POLLYANNA.” <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1450 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |