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diff --git a/1450-0.txt b/1450-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ea37a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/1450-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7461 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1450 *** + + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller for Tina + + + + + +POLLYANNA + +By Eleanor H. Porter + +Author of “Miss Billy,” “Miss Billy's Decision,” “Cross Currents,” “The +Turn of the Tides,” etc. + + + + + TO + My Cousin Belle + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + I. MISS POLLY + II. OLD TOM AND NANCY + III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA + IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM + V. THE GAME + VI. A QUESTION OF DUTY + VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS + VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT + IX. WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN + X. A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW + XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY + XII. BEFORE THE LADIES' AID + XIII. IN PENDLETON WOODS + XIV. JUST A MATTER OF JELLY + XV. DR. CHILTON + XVI. A RED ROSE AND A LACE: SHAWL + XVII. “JUST LIKE A BOOK” + XVIII. PRISMS + XIX. WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING + XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING + XXI. A QUESTION ANSWERED + XXII. SERMONS AND WOODBOXES + XXIII. AN ACCIDENT + XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON + XXV. A WAITING GAME + XXVI. A DOOR AJAR + XXVII. TWO VISITS + XXVIII. THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS + XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW + XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM + XXXI. A NEW UNCLE + XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA + + + + +POLLYANNA + + + + +CHAPTER I. MISS POLLY + +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. + +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. + +“Nancy!” + +“Yes, ma'am.” Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued wiping +the pitcher in her hand. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Her mistress frowned. + +“That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your +attention.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Nancy colored hotly. + +“Of course, ma'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here +might--might brighten things up for you,” she faltered. + +“Thank you,” rejoined the lady, dryly. “I can't say, however, that I see +any immediate need for that.” + +“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. + +Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily. + +“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. + +“Yes, ma'am,” sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher--now so +cold it must be rinsed again. + + +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: + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain, + +“Respectfully yours, + +“Jeremiah O. White.” + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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! + + + +CHAPTER II. OLD TOM AND NANCY + +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. + +“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!” + +For some time she worked in silence; then, her task finished, she looked +about the bare little room in plain disgust. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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?” + +“A--what?” demanded the old man, straightening his bent back with +difficulty. + +“A little girl--to live with Miss Polly.” + +“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?” + +“But it's true. She told me so herself,” maintained Nancy. “It's her +niece; and she's eleven years old.” + +The man's jaw fell. + +“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!” + +“Who was Miss Jennie?” + +“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'.” + +“She's eleven years old.” + +“Yes, she might be,” nodded the old man. + +“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. + +Old Tom frowned. The next moment a curious smile curved his lips. + +“I'm a-wonderin' what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,” he +said. + +“Humph! Well, I'm a-wonderin' what a child will do with Miss Polly in +the house!” snapped Nancy. + +The old man laughed. + +“I'm afraid you ain't fond of Miss Polly,” he grinned. + +“As if ever anybody could be fond of her!” scorned Nancy. + +Old Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began to work again. + +“I guess maybe you didn't know about Miss Polly's love affair,” he said +slowly. + +“Love affair--HER! No!--and I guess nobody else didn't, neither.” + +“Oh, yes they did,” nodded the old man. “And the feller's livin' +ter-day--right in this town, too.” + +“Who is he?” + +“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. + +“But it don't seem possible--her and a lover,” still maintained Nancy. + +Old Tom shook his head. + +“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.” + +“Handsome! Miss Polly!” + +“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.” + +“Ain't she, though? Well, then she's got an awfully good imitation of +it--she has, she has!” sniffed Nancy. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Old Tom shook his head. + +“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. + +“Nancy!” called a sharp voice. + +“Y-yes, ma'am,” stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house. + + + +CHAPTER III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Yes, ma'am; but--you--” + +Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said +crisply: + +“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. + +In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a vicious dig across the +dish-towel she was ironing. + +“'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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“Are you Miss--Pollyanna?” she faltered. The next moment she found +herself half smothered in the clasp of two gingham-clad arms. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +Nancy was relieved just then to have Timothy come up. Pollyanna's words +had been most confusing. + +“This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,” she stammered. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed to stammer: + +“Well, I'm sure it--it'll be all right.” + +“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--” + +“Glad!” gasped Nancy, surprised into an interruption. + +“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!” + +Nancy's aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her +turned suddenly into shocked terror. + +“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!” + +“You--you AREN'T?” stammered the little girl, in plain dismay. + +“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!” + +Timothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the merry +flash from his eyes. + +“But who ARE you?” questioned Pollyanna. “You don't look a bit like a +Ladies' Aider!” + +Timothy laughed outright this time. + +“I'm Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washin' an' +hard ironin'. Mis' Durgin does that.” + +“But there IS an Aunt Polly?” demanded the child, anxiously. + +“You bet your life there is,” cut in Timothy. + +Pollyanna relaxed visibly. + +“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.” + +Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile. + +“I call that a pretty slick compliment,” he said. “Why don't you thank +the little lady?” + +“I--I was thinkin' about--Miss Polly,” faltered Nancy. + +Pollyanna sighed contentedly. + +“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.” + +“She does. You can see it now,” said Nancy. + +“It's that big white one with the green blinds, 'way ahead.” + +“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?” + +“Yes, Miss.” + +“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?” + +Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into +Timothy's eyes. + +“No, Miss. Your aunt don't like ice-cream, I guess; leastways I never +saw it on her table.” + +Pollyanna's face fell. + +“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.” + +“Yes, she's got the carpets.” + +“In every room?” + +“Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, frowning suddenly at the +thought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet. + +“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?” + +“I--I don't know,” answered Nancy in a half-stifled voice. + +“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. + +It was when Timothy was unloading the trunk that Nancy found an +opportunity to mutter low in his ear: + +“Don't you never say nothin' ter me again about leavin', Timothy Durgin. +You couldn't HIRE me ter leave!” + +“Leave! I should say not,” grinned the youth. + +“You couldn't drag me away. It'll be more fun here now, with that kid +'round, than movin'-picture shows, every day!” + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM + +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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little hysterically. + +“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--” + +“Yes; well, never mind now what your father said,” interrupted Miss +Polly, crisply. “You had a trunk, I presume?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +The little girl drew in her breath tremulously. + +“Why, Aunt Polly, you--you mean--” She hesitated, and her aunt filled +the pause. + +“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.” + +Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room. +Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely high. + +“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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“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!” + +“Why, Aunt Polly, AREN'T you?” queried Pollyanna, in frank wonder. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I see. +Have you your key?” + +Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened. + +Her aunt frowned. + +“When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloud +not merely with your head.” + +“Yes, Aunt Polly.” + +“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. + +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. + +Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna shook her head. + +“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.” + +“No more they did, neither,” declared Nancy, stoutly. + +“Oh-h!--NANCY!” The burning horror in Pollyanna's eyes dried the tears. + +Nancy gave a shamefaced smile and rubbed her own eyes vigorously. + +“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.” + +Somewhat tearfully Pollyanna produced the key. + +“There aren't very many there, anyway,” she faltered. + +“Then they're all the sooner unpacked,” declared Nancy. + +Pollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile. + +“That's so! I can be glad of that, can't I?” she cried. + +Nancy stared. + +“Why, of--course,” she answered a little uncertainly. + +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. + +“I'm sure it--it's going to be a very nice room. Don't you think so?” + she stammered, after a while. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +To Pollyanna's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. Pollyanna +hurriedly crossed to her side. + +“Why, Nancy, Nancy--what is it?” she cried; then, fearfully: “This +wasn't--YOUR room, was it?” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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! + + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Yes, ma'am.” It was well, perhaps, that Miss Polly did not happen to be +looking at Nancy's face just then. + +At the earliest possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up the back +stairs and thence to the attic room. + +“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. + +“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!” + +The old man straightened up. + +“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. + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER V. THE GAME + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna skipped gleefully. + +“I did, 'most--only I flew down instead of up. I came down the tree.” + +Nancy stopped short. + +“You did--what?” + +“Came down the tree, outside my window.” + +“My stars and stockings!” gasped Nancy, hurrying on again. “I'd like ter +know what yer aunt would say ter that!” + +“Would you? Well, I'll tell her, then, so you can find out,” promised +the little girl, cheerfully. + +“Mercy!” gasped Nancy. “No--no!” + +“Why, you don't mean she'd CARE!” cried Pollyanna, plainly disturbed. + +“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.” + +“I'll help,” promised Pollyanna, promptly. + +“Oh, Miss Pollyanna!” demurred Nancy. + +For a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna +took a firmer hold of her friend's arm. + +“I reckon I'm glad, after all, that you DID get scared--a little, 'cause +then you came after me,” she shivered. + +“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.” + +“But I couldn't. I was up here.” + +“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.” + +“Oh, I'm not. I'm glad.” + +“Glad! Why?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna laughed softly. + +“Well, that's the game, you know, anyway.” + +“The--GAME?” + +“Yes; the 'just being glad' game.” + +“Whatever in the world are you talkin' about?” + +“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.” + +“What is it? I ain't much on games, though.” + +Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering +twilight her face looked thin and wistful. + +“Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel.” + +“CRUTCHES!” + +“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.” + +“Well, I must say I can't see any game about that, about that,” declared +Nancy, almost irritably. + +“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.” + +“Well, goodness me! I can't see anythin' ter be glad about--gettin' a +pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!” + +Pollyanna clapped her hands. + +“There is--there is,” she crowed. “But _I_ couldn't see it, either, +Nancy, at first,” she added, with quick honesty. “Father had to tell it +to me.” + +“Well, then, suppose YOU tell ME,” almost snapped Nancy. + +“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!” + +“Well, of all the queer doin's!” breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna +with almost fearful eyes. + +“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.” + +“Yes, or when you're put in a snippy little room 'way at the top of the +house with nothin' in it,” growled Nancy. + +Pollyanna sighed. + +“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.” + +“Humph!” choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“Oh, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. “That'll be +splendid! Won't we have fun?” + +“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. + +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. + +“Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?” + +“Yes, Aunt Polly.” + +“I'm very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you +into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.” + +“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.” + +Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair. + +“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.” + +Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt's side +and gave her an affectionate hug. + +“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. + +“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. + +Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed +into the tightly-clutched sheet: + +“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!” + +Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, +jabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily: + +“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!” + + + +CHAPTER VI. A QUESTION OF DUTY + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Aunt Polly, with the bent old man, was leaning over a rose-bush when +Pollyanna, gurgling with delight, flung herself upon her. + +“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I reckon I am glad this morning just to be +alive!” + +“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?” + +The little girl dropped to her toes, and danced lightly up and down. + +“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!” + +The bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss Polly attempted a +frown--with not her usual success. + +“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. + +“Do you always work in the garden, Mr.--Man?” asked Pollyanna, +interestedly. + +The man turned. His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as +if with tears. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna caught her breath audibly. + +“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. + +A bell sounded from the house. The next moment Nancy was seen flying out +the back door. + +“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. + +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: + +“Nancy, where did those flies come from?” + +“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. + +“I reckon maybe they're my flies, Aunt Polly,” observed Pollyanna, +amiably. “There were lots of them this morning having a beautiful time +upstairs.” + +Nancy left the room precipitately, though to do so she had to carry out +the hot muffins she had just brought in. + +“Yours!” gasped Miss Polly. “What do you mean? Where did they come +from?” + +“Why, Aunt Polly, they came from out of doors of course, through the +windows. I SAW some of them come in.” + +“You saw them! You mean you raised those windows without any screens?” + +“Why, yes. There weren't any screens there, Aunt Polly.” + +Nancy, at this moment, came in again with the muffins. Her face was +grave, but very red. + +“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.” + +To her niece she said: + +“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.” + +“My--duty?” Pollyanna's eyes were wide with wonder. + +“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.” + +“To read? Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. I love to read!” + +Miss Polly drew in her breath audibly, then she shut her lips together +hard. Pollyanna, seeing her stern face, frowned a little thoughtfully. + +“Of course I'm sorry about the duty I forgot, Aunt Polly,” she +apologized timidly. “I won't raise the windows again.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly's head, many times +magnified, cried joyously: + +“Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly!” The next moment she skipped merrily from +the room, banging the door behind her. + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned +toward the closet. + +“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?” + +At her aunt's look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at +once. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments +finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly. + +“You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?” + +“Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath--I mean, I was taught at home some, +too.” + +Miss Polly frowned. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I don't doubt it,” rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. “Have you studied +music?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna laughed suddenly. + +“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. + +“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. + +Pollyanna cried out in dismay. + +“Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at all +just to--to live.” + +“To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all the +time!” + +“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!” + +Miss Polly lifted her head irritably. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna looked shocked. + +“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!” + +“Very well; then see that you don't act ungrateful,” vouchsafed Miss +Polly, as she turned toward the door. + +She had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called +after her: + +“Please, Aunt Polly, you didn't tell me which of my things you wanted +to--to give away.” + +Aunt Polly emitted a tired sigh--a sigh that ascended straight to +Pollyanna's ears. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna sighed now--she believed she was going to hate that +word--duty. + +“Aunt Polly, please,” she called wistfully, “isn't there ANY way you can +be glad about all that--duty business?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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'!” + +“Oh, Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say! Why?” + +“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.” + +“But I love 'Nancy,' just because it's you,” declared Pollyanna. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“Well, anyhow,” she chuckled, “you can be glad it isn't 'Hephzibah.'” + +“Hephzibah!” + +“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.” + +Nancy's gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile. + +“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'?” + +Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed. + +“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.” + +“Well, m-maybe,” granted Nancy, with open doubt. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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: + +“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!” + +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. + +“Pollyanna, what does this mean?” cried Aunt Polly then. + +Pollyanna blinked sleepy eyes and sat up. + +“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.” + +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: + +“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. + +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. + +At the top of the stairs Miss Polly jerked out crisply: + +“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.” + +Pollyanna drew in her breath. + +“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?” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT + +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. + +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. + +Nancy, in the kitchen, fared better. She was not dazed nor exhausted. +Wednesdays and Saturdays came to be, indeed, red-letter days to her. + +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. + +“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?” + +“Well, I can't say I do--all of 'em,” retorted Nancy, tersely. + +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. + +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. + +“How do you do, sir? Isn't this a nice day?” she called cheerily, as she +approached him. + +The man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly. + +“Did you speak--to me?” he asked in a sharp voice. + +“Yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna. “I say, it's a nice day, isn't it?” + +“Eh? Oh! Humph!” he grunted; and strode on again. + +Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought. + +The next day she saw him again. + +“'Tisn't quite so nice as yesterday, but it's pretty nice,” she called +out cheerfully. + +“Eh? Oh! Humph!” grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna +laughed happily. + +When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner, +the man stopped abruptly. + +“See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every +day?” + +“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.” + +“Well, of all the--” The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on +faster than ever. + +Pollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually +smiling lips. + +“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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“But I'd love to do it, Nancy.” + +“Well, you won't--after you've done it once,” predicted Nancy, sourly. + +“Why not?” + +“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.” + +“But, why, Nancy?” + +Nancy shrugged her shoulders. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“Humph! Well, Mis' Snow's 'different,' all right--I hope, for the sake +of the rest of us!” Nancy had finished grimly. + +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. + +A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door. + +“How do you do?” began Pollyanna politely. “I'm from Miss Polly +Harrington, and I'd like to see Mrs. Snow, please.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Dear me! Jelly?” murmured a fretful voice. “Of course I'm very much +obliged, but I was hoping 'twould be lamb broth to-day.” + +Pollyanna frowned a little. + +“Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks brought you jelly,” + she said. + +“What?” The sick woman turned sharply. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?” she demanded. + +Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“O dear, I wish _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?” + +“Lose time--sleeping!” exclaimed the sick woman. + +“Yes, when you might be just living, you know. It seems such a pity we +can't live nights, too.” + +Once again the woman pulled herself erect in her bed. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a little ruefully. + +“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!” + +“Me!--pretty!” scoffed the woman, bitterly. + +“Why, yes. Didn't you know it?” cried Pollyanna. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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. + +On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a +critical gaze. + +“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?” + +“Why, I--suppose so, if you want to,” permitted Mrs. Snow, grudgingly; +“but 'twon't stay, you know.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“Hm-m; maybe. Still--'twon't last, with me tossing back and forth on the +pillow as I do.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it,” sighed +Pollyanna. + +Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown. + +“Why, 'twould be kind of hard--to do it then, wouldn't it?” she mused +aloud. + +“Do what?” + +“Be glad about things.” + +“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!” + +To Mrs. Snow's unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and +clapped her hands. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow's daughter, came in, the mirror +still lay among the bedclothes--thought it had been carefully hidden from sight. + +“Why, mother--the curtain is up!” cried Milly, dividing her amazed stare +between the window and the pink in her mother's hair. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her +nightgown. At last she spoke fretfully. + +“I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress--instead of lamb +broth, for a change!” + +“Why--mother!” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER IX. WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN + +It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, +with a bright smile. + +“It isn't so nice to-day, is it?” she called blithesomely. “I'm glad it +doesn't rain always, anyhow!” + +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. + +“How do you do?” she chirped. “I'm so glad it isn't yesterday, aren't +you?” + +The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face. + +“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. + +“No, sir; I thought you didn't. That's why I told you.” + +“Yes; well--Eh? What?” he broke off sharply, in sudden understanding of +her words. + +“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!” + +“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. + +“See here, why don't you find some one your own age to talk to?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + +“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!” + +The man made a queer noise in his throat. + +“Well, of all the--” he ejaculated again, as he turned and strode on as +before. + +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. + +“Good afternoon,” he greeted her a little stiffly. “Perhaps I'd better +say right away that I KNOW the sun is shining to-day.” + +“But you don't have to tell me,” nodded Pollyanna, brightly. “I KNEW you +knew it just as soon as I saw you.” + +“Oh, you did, did you?” + +“Yes, sir; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your smile.” + +“Humph!” grunted the man, as he passed on. + +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. + +“Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna,” she gasped, “did that man SPEAK TO YOU?” + +“Why, yes, he always does--now,” smiled Pollyanna. + +“'He always does'! Goodness! Do you know who--he--is?” demanded Nancy. + +Pollyanna frowned and shook her head. + +“I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my part of the +introducing, but he didn't.” + +Nancy's eyes widened. + +“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'.” + +Pollyanna nodded sympathetically. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna giggled. + +“As if anybody COULD eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they +come to try to chew 'em!” + +“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.” + +“Oh, for the heathen,” surmised Pollyanna. “How perfectly splendid! +That's denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know; father told +me.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Oh, Nancy!” shuddered Pollyanna. “How can he keep such a dreadful +thing? I should think he'd throw it away!” + +Nancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the skeleton literally instead +of figuratively, she knew very well; but, perversely, she refrained from +correcting the mistake. + +“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.” + +“Oh, a missionary,” nodded Pollyanna. + +Nancy laughed oddly. + +“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'.” + +“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.” + +“Well, I guess he is--rather,” chuckled Nancy. + +“I'm gladder'n ever now, anyhow, that he speaks to me,” sighed Pollyanna +contentedly. + + + +CHAPTER X. A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW + +The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as +at first, in a darkened room. + +“It's the little girl from Miss Polly's, mother,” announced Milly, in a +tired manner; then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +The woman stirred restlessly. + +“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?” + +“Guess! What do you want?” Pollyanna had skipped back to the basket. Her +face was alight. The sick woman frowned. + +“Why, I don't WANT anything, as I know of,” she sighed. “After all, they +all taste alike!” + +Pollyanna chuckled. + +“This won't. Guess! If you DID want something, what would it be?” + +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. + +“Well, of course, there's lamb broth--” + +“I've got it!” crowed Pollyanna. + +“But that's what I DIDN'T want,” sighed the sick woman, sure now of what +her stomach craved. “It was chicken I wanted.” + +“Oh, I've got that, too,” chuckled Pollyanna. + +The woman turned in amazement. + +“Both of them?” she demanded. + +“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. + +There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying--mentally to find +something she had lost. + +“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. + +“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!” + +Polly nodded sympathetically. + +“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?” + +“Can I--what?” + +“Thrash 'round--move, you know, so as to change your position when the +music gets too hard to stand.” + +Mrs. Snow stared a little. + +“Why, of course I can move--anywhere--in bed,” she rejoined a little +irritably. + +“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.” + +“Sister's--EARS! What do you mean?” + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“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.” + +“The--game?” + +Pollyanna clapped her hands. + +“There! I 'most forgot; but I've thought it up, Mrs. Snow--what you can +be glad about.” + +“GLAD about! What do you mean?” + +“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.” + +“Oh!” scoffed the woman. “THAT? Yes, I remember that; but I didn't +suppose you were in earnest any more than I was.” + +“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.” + +“Did you, really? Well, what is it?” Mrs. Snow's voice was sarcastically +polite. + +Pollyanna drew a long breath. + +“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. + +“Well, really!” she ejaculated then, in not quite an agreeable tone of +voice. + +“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. + +The story was just finished when Milly appeared at the door. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna rose reluctantly. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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!” + + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +“Do you mean that it wouldn't be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they +should be just happy days?” she asked wistfully. + +“That is what I mean, Pollyanna.” + +“They must be pro-fi-ta-ble as well?” + +“Certainly.” + +“What is being pro-fi-ta-ble?” + +“Why, it--it's just being profitable--having profit, something to show +for it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are!” + +“Then just being glad isn't pro-fi-ta-ble?” questioned Pollyanna, a +little anxiously. + +“Certainly not.” + +“O dear! Then you wouldn't like it, of course. I'm afraid, now, you +won't ever play the game, Aunt Polly.” + +“Game? What game?” + +“Why, that father--” Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. +“N-nothing,” she stammered. Miss Polly frowned. + +“That will do for this morning, Pollyanna,” she said tersely. And the +sewing lesson was over. + +It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, +met her aunt on the stairway. + +“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. + +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! + +“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?” + +“Why, y-yes, Pollyanna,” murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she +did not get up at once and go to look for that shawl. + +“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. + +“What's that, Pollyanna?” + +“N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didn't mean to say it.” + +“Probably not,” returned Miss Polly, coldly; “but you did say it, so +suppose we have the rest of it.” + +“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--” + +“PLANNING on them!” interrupted Miss Polly, sharply. + +Pollyanna blushed still more painfully. + +“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--” + +Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red. + +“That will do, Pollyanna,” she said stiffly. + +“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. + +Less than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy, crisply: + +“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.” + +“Yes, ma'am,” said Nancy aloud. + +“O glory!” said Nancy to herself. + +To Pollyanna, a minute later, she cried joyously: + +“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!” + +Pollyanna actually grew white. + +“You mean--why, Nancy, not really--really and truly?” + +“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.” + +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. + +Bang went two doors and a chair before Pollyanna at last reached her +goal--Aunt Polly. + +“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!” + +“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. + +Pollyanna picked up the chair. + +“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?” + +“I hope--not, Pollyanna!” Miss Polly's voice was properly shocked. + +“Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame!” Pollyanna's face expressed only +concerned sympathy. + +“A shame!” repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to say more. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed;--but then, of +course she HAD been glad--over some things! + + + +CHAPTER XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY + +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. + +First there was the kitten. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Ugh! Pollyanna! What a dirty little beast! And it's sick, I'm sure, and +all mangy and fleay.” + +“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.” + +“No--nor anybody else,” retorted Miss Polly, with meaning emphasis. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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. + +“But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Miss Polly. “I don't--” But +Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling: + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy. + +The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside, +whittling half-heartedly at a small stick. + +“Hullo,” smiled Pollyanna, engagingly. + +The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once. + +“Hullo yourself,” he mumbled. + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's-foot jelly,” she +chuckled, stopping before him. + +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. + +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. + +“My name's Pollyanna Whittier,” she began pleasantly. “What's yours?” + +Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he +settled back. + +“Jimmy Bean,” he grunted with ungracious indifference. + +“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?” + +“Nowhere.” + +“Nowhere! Why, you can't do that--everybody lives somewhere,” asserted +Pollyanna. + +“Well, I don't--just now. I'm huntin' up a new place.” + +“Oh! Where is it?” + +The boy regarded her with scornful eyes. + +“Silly! As if I'd be a-huntin' for it--if I knew!” + +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. + +“Well, if you ain't the beat'em for askin' questions!” sighed the boy +impatiently. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened. + +“Honest Injun? Would she, now? I'd work, ye know, an' I'm real strong!” + He bared a small, bony arm. + +“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. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,” she retorted; “for when I'm +talking, YOU don't have to!” + + +When the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her +companion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt. + +“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.” + +Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand; but +she thought she understood enough. + +“Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did +you find him?” she demanded sharply. + +The “dirty little boy” fell back a step and looked toward the door. +Pollyanna laughed merrily. + +“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.” + +“Well, what is he doing here?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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!” + +From sheer amazement Pollyanna's jaw dropped. + +“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. + +Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook +him. + +“Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how--how sorry I am,” she +panted, catching him with a detaining hand. + +“Sorry nothin'! I ain't blamin' you,” retorted the boy, sullenly. “But I +ain't no beggar!” he added, with sudden spirit. + +“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!” + +The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away. + +“Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain't no beggar, you +know.” + +Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face +illumined. + +“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.” + +The boy turned fiercely. + +“Well, I ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides--what is a Ladies' +Aid?” + +Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval. + +“Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?--not to know what a +Ladies' Aid is!” + +“Oh, all right--if you ain't tellin',” grunted the boy, turning and +beginning to walk away indifferently. + +Pollyanna sprang to his side at once. + +“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.” + +Again the boy turned fiercely. + +“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!” + +“Oh, but you wouldn't be there,” argued Pollyanna, quickly. “I'd go +alone, of course, and tell them.” + +“You would?” + +“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.” + +“I'd work--don't forget ter say that,” cautioned the boy. + +“Of course not,” promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point +was gained. “Then I'll let you know to-morrow.” + +“Where?” + +“By the road--where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow's house.” + +“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!” + +“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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XII. BEFORE THE LADIES' AID + +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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna's puckered little face cleared. + +“Oh, thank you. I'm afraid it would be pretty hard--not to say it. You +see I've played it so long.” + +“You've--what?” demanded Aunt Polly. + +“Played it--the game, you know, that father--” Pollyanna stopped with a +painful blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden ground. + +Aunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest of the meal was a silent +one. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I--I've come to--to lay the case before you,” stammered Pollyanna, +after a moment, unconsciously falling into her father's familiar +phraseology. + +There was a slight rustle. + +“Did--did your aunt send you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Ford, the minister's +wife. + +Pollyanna colored a little. + +“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.” + +Somebody tittered hysterically, and the minister's wife frowned. + +“Yes, dear. What is it?” + +“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.” + +“Well, did you ever!” murmured a voice, breaking the dazed pause that +followed Pollyanna's words. + +With anxious eyes Pollyanna swept the circle of faces about her. + +“Oh, I forgot to say; he will work,” she supplemented eagerly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + + + +CHAPTER XIII. IN PENDLETON WOODS + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked +some distance ahead. A moment later he came dashing toward her, still +barking. + +“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. + +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. + +“Ho! That isn't the way home,” laughed Pollyanna, still keeping to the +main path. + +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. + +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. + +A twig cracked sharply under Pollyanna's foot, and the man turned his +head. With a cry of dismay Pollyanna ran to his side. + +“Mr. Pendleton! Oh, are you hurt?” + +“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?” + +Pollyanna caught her breath with a little gasp, but--as was her +habit--she answered the questions literally, one by one. + +“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.” + +The man smiled grimly. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Oh, yes, sir! Why, once when Aunt Polly--” + +“Never mind Aunt Polly now,” cut in the man scowlingly, as he tried to +move himself a little. + +“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!” + +“Oh, yes, sir! I just love Aunt Polly's. There's such a lot of queer +names, and--” + +“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.” + +“A broken leg? Oh, Mr. Pendleton, how perfectly awful!” shuddered +Pollyanna. “But I'm so glad I came! Can't _I_ do--” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In what seemed, even to the injured man, an incredibly short time, +Pollyanna was back in the woods at the man's side. + +“Well, what is the trouble? Couldn't you get in?” he demanded. + +Pollyanna opened wide her eyes. + +“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.” + +“Did you?” smiled the man, grimly. “Well, I can't say I admire your +taste. I should think you might find pleasanter companions.” + +“Do you mean--because you're so--cross?” + +“Thanks for your frankness. Yes.” + +Pollyanna laughed softly. + +“But you're only cross OUTSIDE--You arn't cross inside a bit!” + +“Indeed! How do you know that?” asked the man, trying to change the +position of his head without moving the rest of his body. + +“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. + +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. + +“Well, that is--better,” he murmured faintly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The tallest of the party--a smooth-shaven, kind-eyed man whom Pollyanna +knew by sight as “Dr. Chilton”--advanced cheerily. + +“Well, my little lady, playing nurse?” + +“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.” + +“So am I,” nodded the doctor, as he turned his absorbed attention to the +injured man. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. JUST A MATTER OF JELLY + +Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to +John Pendleton; but, as it happened, she escaped without reproof. + +Nancy met her at the door. + +“Well, if I ain't glad ter be settin' my two eyes on you,” she sighed in +obvious relief. “It's half-past six!” + +“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.” + +“She won't have the chance,” retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction. +“She's gone.” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +Pollyanna looked shocked. + +“Glad! Oh, Nancy, when it's a funeral?” + +“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. + +Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown. + +“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.” + +Nancy chuckled. + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +Pollyanna clapped her hands. + +“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!” + +Jimmy's face brightened. + +“Do you think they would--truly--take me?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Well, if you ain't the queerest kid,” grinned Jimmy, as he turned away. + +It was about a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that Pollyanna +said to her aunt one morning: + +“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.” + +“Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now?” sighed her aunt. “You ARE +the most extraordinary child!” + +Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously. + +“Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you're EXtraordinary you +can't be ORdinary, can you?” + +“You certainly can not.” + +“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. + +“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!” + +“Yes'm,” smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, “I reckon I do, maybe. But you +see they used to bring me up, and--” + +“That will do, Pollyanna,” interrupted a cold voice. “Now what is it +about this jelly?” + +“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.” + +“'Him'? 'He'? 'Broken leg'? What are you talking about, Pollyanna?” + +Pollyanna stared; then her face relaxed. + +“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?” + +“Yes, yes, I suppose so,” acquiesced Miss Polly, a little wearily. “Who +did you say he was?” + +“The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.” + +Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair. + +“JOHN PENDLETON!” + +“Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.” + +Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked: + +“Do YOU know him?” + +Pollyanna nodded. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna's face fell. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped, +and asked in a curiously quiet voice: + +“Does he know who you--are, Pollyanna?” + +The little girl sighed. + +“I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me +it--never.” + +“Does he know where you--live?” + +“Oh, no. I never told him that.” + +“Then he doesn't know you're my--niece?” + +“I don't think so.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“Yes'm--no'm--thank you, Aunt Polly,” exulted Pollyanna, as she flew +through the door. + + + +CHAPTER XV. DR. CHILTON + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“If you please, I've brought some calf's-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” + smiled Pollyanna. + +“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?” + +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. + +“Ah! Some calf's-foot jelly?” he asked genially. “That will be fine! +Maybe you'd like to see our patient, eh?” + +“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. + +Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city) +gave a disturbed exclamation. + +“But, Doctor, didn't Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit--any one?” + +“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.” + +“Who is she?” + +For one brief moment the doctor hesitated. + +“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!” + +The nurse smiled. + +“Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this +wonder-working--tonic of hers?” + +The doctor shook his head. + +“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. + +Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor's orders, was being +escorted to John Pendleton's rooms. + +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: + +“If you please, sir, here--here's a little girl with some jelly. The +doctor said I was to--to bring her in.” + +The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking +man lying flat on his back in bed. + +“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. + +“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?” + +In spite of himself the man's lips twitched into a smile; but all he +said was “Humph!” + +“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. + +“Never ate it.” The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back +to the man's face. + +For a brief instant Pollyanna's countenance showed disappointment; but +it cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna looked shocked. + +“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--” + +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. + +“Aren't you getting a little mixed?” asked John Pendleton of Pollyanna. + +The little girl laughed. + +“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.” + +“Oh, I am,” retorted the man grimly. + +“And you didn't break but one. You can be glad 'twasn't two.” Pollyanna +was warming to her task. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna chuckled. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +“Why, yes, sir--only think how bad 'twould be if you DIDN'T have them!” + +“Well, I--eh?” he demanded sharply. + +“Why, I say, only think how bad it would be if you didn't have 'em--and +you lying here like this!” + +“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!” + +Pollyanna frowned sympathetically. + +“Yes, I know. THAT part is too bad--about the money--when you've been +saving it, too, all this time.” + +“When--eh?” + +“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?” + +“Look a-here, child, what are you talking about?” + +Pollyanna smiled radiantly. + +“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.” + +The man's jaw dropped. + +“Nancy told you I was saving money for the--Well, may I inquire who +Nancy is?” + +“Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.” + +“Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?” + +“She's Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.” + +The man made a sudden movement. + +“Miss--Polly--Harrington!” he breathed. “You live with--HER!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“I reckon maybe I'd better go now,” she proposed. “I--I hope you'll +like--the jelly.” + +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. + +“And so you are--Miss Polly Harrington's niece,” he said gently. + +“Yes, sir.” + +Still the man's dark eyes lingered on her face, until Pollyanna, feeling +vaguely restless, murmured: + +“I--I suppose you know--her.” + +John Pendleton's lips curved in an odd smile. + +“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. + +Pollyanna looked distressed. + +“N-no, sir: she didn't. She said I must be very sure not to let you +think she did send it. But I--” + +“I thought as much,” vouchsafed the man, shortly, turning away his head. +And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room. + +Under the porte-cochere she found the doctor waiting in his gig. The +nurse stood on the steps. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“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.” + +“No? What are they, then?” + +“Aunt Polly says they're 'learning to live,'” sighed Pollyanna, with a +rueful smile. + +The doctor smiled now--a little queerly. + +“Does she? Well, I should think she might say--just that.” + +“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.” + +The doctor drew a long sigh. + +“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: + +“Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would, be the very gladdest +kind of a business there was.” + +The doctor turned in surprise. + +“'Gladdest'!--when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go?” he +cried. + +She nodded. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, who was +sweeping off the front porch, then drove rapidly away. + +“I've had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor,” announced +Pollyanna, bounding up the steps. “He's lovely, Nancy!” + +“Is he?” + +“Yes. And I told him I should think his business would be the very +gladdest one there was.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna laughed gleefully. + +“Yes. That's 'most what he said, too; but there is a way to be glad, +even then. Guess!” + +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. + +“Oh, I know,” she chuckled. “It's just the opposite from what you told +Mis' Snow.” + +“Opposite?” repeated Pollyanna, obviously puzzled. + +“Yes. You told her she could be glad because other folks wasn't like +her--all sick, you know.” + +“Yes,” nodded Pollyanna. + +“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. + +It was Pollyanna's turn to frown. + +“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. + +Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room. + +“Who was that man--the one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna?” + questioned the lady a little sharply. + +“Why, Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton! Don't you know him?” + +“Dr. Chilton! What was he doing--here?” + +“He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and--” + +Miss Polly lifted her head quickly. + +“Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?” + +“Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn't.” + +Miss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink. + +“You TOLD him I didn't!” + +Pollyanna opened wide her eyes at the remonstrative dismay in her aunt's +voice. + +“Why, Aunt Polly, you SAID to!” + +Aunt Polly sighed. + +“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. + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. A RED ROSE AND A LACE SHAWL + +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. + +Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this. + +“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. + +“Got what, you impossible child?” + +Pollyanna was still revolving round and round her aunt. + +“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.” + +“Pollyanna, what does all this mean?” demanded Aunt Polly, hurriedly +removing her hat, and trying to smooth back her disordered hair. + +“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!” + +“Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies' Aid the +other day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy?” + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat--the old, helpless feeling was +upon her, she knew. + +“But, Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to +them, I was so ashamed! I--” + +Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes. + +“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.” + +“But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the +little girl from the room and panting up-stairs after her. + +“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!” + +“But, Pollyanna, I--I--” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“But--but--” + +“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. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Pollyanna, Pollyanna! What are you doing?” she cried. + +Pollyanna chuckled. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“Pollyanna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to?” recoiled +Aunt Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back. “Pollyanna, I shall +not--” + +“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!” + +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. + +“Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me? I'm up here.” + +“Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “Will you come down, +please?” + +In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed woman +plucking at the pins that held a lace shawl in place. + +“Pollyanna, how could you?” moaned the woman. “To think of your rigging +me up like this, and then letting me--BE SEEN!” + +Pollyanna stopped in dismay. + +“But you looked lovely--perfectly lovely, Aunt Polly; and--” + +“'Lovely'!” scorned the woman, flinging the shawl to one side and +attacking her hair with shaking fingers. + +“Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let the hair stay!” + +“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. + +“O dear! And you did look so pretty,” almost sobbed Pollyanna, as she +stumbled through the door. + +Down-stairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting in his gig. + +“I've prescribed you for a patient, and he's sent me to get the +prescription filled,” announced the doctor. “Will you go?” + +“You mean--an errand--to the drug store?” asked Pollyanna, a little +uncertainly. “I used to go some--for the Ladies' Aiders.” + +The doctor shook his head with a smile. + +“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.” + +“I'd love to!” exclaimed Pollyanna. “Let me ask Aunt Polly.” + +In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober +face. + +“Didn't--your aunt want you to go?” asked the doctor, a little +diffidently, as they drove away. + +“Y-yes,” sighed Pollyanna. “She--she wanted me to go TOO much, I'm +afraid.” + +“Wanted you to go TOO MUCH!” + +Pollyanna sighed again. + +“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.'” + +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: + +“Wasn't it--your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago--in the window of +the sun parlor?” + +Pollyanna drew a long breath. + +“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?” + +For a moment the doctor did not answer. When he did speak his voice was +so low Pollyanna could but just hear the words. + +“Yes, Pollyanna, I--I thought she did look--just lovely.” + +“Did you? I'm so glad! I'll tell her,” nodded the little girl, +contentedly. + +To her surprise the doctor gave a sudden exclamation. + +“Never! Pollyanna, I--I'm afraid I shall have to ask you not to tell +her--that.” + +“Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you'd be glad--” + +“But she might not be,” cut in the doctor. + +Pollyanna considered this for a moment. + +“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.” + +“I thought as much,” declared the doctor, under his breath. + +“Still, I don't see why,” maintained Pollyanna, “--when she looked so +pretty!” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. “JUST LIKE A BOOK” + +John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna to-day with a smile. + +“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.” + +“Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, and I'm sure I don't see +why I shouldn't be, either.” + +“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!” + +Pollyanna stirred uneasily. + +“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. + +John Pendleton smiled. + +“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. + +“Did you like it?” asked Pollyanna with interest. + +“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. + +His visitor looked distressed. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Oh, I'm awfully strong,” declared Pollyanna, cheerfully, as she sprang +to her feet. In a minute she had returned with the box. + +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. + +It was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna +murmured wistfully: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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!” + +“Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently. + + +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. + +“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!” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna smiled happily. + +“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--” + +“What's that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. “He said you reminded him +of something he wanted to forget?” + +“Yes. But afterwards--” + +“What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent. + +“He didn't tell me. He just said it was something.” + +“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!” + +“But he didn't,” cried Pollyanna, “not till _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--” + +Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly. + +“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?” + +“Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this +to-day.” + +“I thought as much,” triumphed Nancy. “And Miss Polly wouldn't send the +jelly herself, would she?” + +“No.” + +“And you told him she didn't send it?” + +“Why, yes; I--” + +“And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you +was her niece. He did that, didn't he?” + +“Why, y-yes; he did act a little queer--over that jelly,” admitted +Pollyanna, with a thoughtful frown. + +Nancy drew a long sigh. + +“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. + +“Why, Nancy, he couldn't be! She doesn't like him,” objected Pollyanna. + +Nancy gave her a scornful glance. + +“Of course she don't! THAT'S the quarrel!” + +Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy +happily settled herself to tell the story. + +“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!” + +“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!” + +Nancy sniffed disdainfully. + +“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--” + +Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about +whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later, +her face was very thoughtful. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,” Aunt Polly +said. + +“Shall you? Then I'm going to be worse,” gurgled Pollyanna. “I'd love to +have Dr. Chilton come to see me!” + +She wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt's face. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. Warren was not summoned. + +“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. + +“That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr. +Chilton--or his feelings,” reproved Miss Polly, decisively. + +Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes; +then she sighed: + +“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. + + +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. + +“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. + +The man laughed a little grimly: John Pendleton was particularly out of +sorts with the world this morning. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering +Pollyanna. + +“Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +Mr. Pendleton laughed. + +“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?” + +Pollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long breath. + +“Oh, I forgot. You don't know about the game. I remember now.” + +“Suppose you tell me, then.” + +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. + +“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.” + +For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said +unsteadily: + +“Perhaps; but I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is +yourself, Pollyanna.” + +“Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun +shines through me, Mr. Pendleton!” + +“Don't you?” smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face, +wondered why there were tears in his eyes. + +“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!” + +The man laughed a little; and again Pollyanna looked at him: the laugh +had sounded almost like a sob. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING + +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. + +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. + +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. + +One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna laughed--Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man! + +“I thought you didn't like to have folks 'round,” she said. + +He made a wry face. + +“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. + +“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!” + +The man's face grew suddenly very grave. + +“That's why I want you, little girl--to help me play it. Will you come?” + +Pollyanna turned in surprise. + +“Mr. Pendleton, you don't really mean--that?” + +“But I do. I want you. Will you come?” + +Pollyanna looked distressed. + +“Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can't--you know I can't. Why, I'm--Aunt Polly's!” + +A quick something crossed the man's face that Pollyanna could not quite +understand. His head came up almost fiercely. + +“You're no more hers than--Perhaps she would let you come to me,” he +finished more gently. “Would you come--if she did?” + +Pollyanna frowned in deep thought. + +“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--” + +Again that spasm of something crossed the man's face; but this time, +when he spoke, his voice was low and very sad. + +“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.” + +“Yes,” pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy. + +“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?” + +Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined. + +“Mr. Pendleton, you--you mean that you wish you--you had had that +woman's hand and heart all this time?” + +“Why, y-yes, Pollyanna.” + +“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.” + +“Take--you--both?” repeated the man, dazedly. + +A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna's countenance. + +“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.” + +A look of actual terror leaped to the man's eyes. + +“Aunt Polly come--HERE!” + +Pollyanna's eyes widened a little. + +“Would you rather go THERE?” she asked. “Of course the house isn't quite +so pretty, but it's nearer--” + +“Pollyanna, what ARE you talking about?” asked the man, very gently now. + +“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--” + +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. + +“The doctor, sir,” said the maid in the doorway. + +Pollyanna rose at once. + +John Pendleton turned to her feverishly. + +“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. + +“Of course not! Just as if I didn't know you'd rather tell her +yourself!” she called back merrily over her shoulder. + +John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair. + +“Why, what's up?” demanded the doctor, a minute later, his fingers on +his patient's galloping pulse. + +A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton's lips. + +“Overdose of your--tonic, I guess,” he laughed, as he noted the doctor's +eyes following Pollyanna's little figure down the driveway. + + + +CHAPTER XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING + +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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna nodded happily. + +“Yes, it is, I know. I'll go.” + +The doctor eyed her with some surprise. + +“I'm not sure I shall let you, after all,” he declared, his eyes +twinkling. “You seemed more upsetting than soothing yesterday, young +lady.” + +Pollyanna laughed. + +“Oh, it wasn't me, truly--not really, you know; not so much as it was +Aunt Polly.” + +The doctor turned with a quick start. + +“Your--aunt!” he ejaculated. + +Pollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat. + +“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.” + +“HER?” + +“Yes; Aunt Polly. And, of course he WOULD want to tell her himself +instead of having me do it--lovers, so!” + +“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. + +“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.” + +The doctor relaxed suddenly, The hand holding the reins fell limply to +his lap. + +“Oh! No; I--didn't know,” he said quietly. + +Pollyanna hurried on--they were nearing the Harrington homestead. + +“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.” + +The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“No; she isn't there--now,” said the doctor, His lips had suddenly lost +their smile. + +Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that +afternoon. + +“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?” + +“Why, because you were lovers, you know once; and I was so glad you +still felt that way now.” + +“Lovers!--your Aunt Polly and I?” + +At the obvious surprise in the man's voice, Pollyanna opened wide her +eyes. + +“Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!” + +The man gave a short little laugh. + +“Indeed! Well, I'm afraid I shall have to say that Nancy--didn't know.” + +“Then you--weren't lovers?” Pollyanna's voice was tragic with dismay. + +“Never!” + +“And it ISN'T all coming out like a book?” + +There was no answer. The man's eyes were moodily fixed out the window. + +“O dear! And it was all going so splendidly,” almost sobbed Pollyanna. +“I'd have been so glad to come--with Aunt Polly.” + +“And you won't--now?” The man asked the question without turning his +head. + +“Of course not! I'm Aunt Polly's.” + +The man turned now, almost fiercely. + +“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.” + +“My mother's!” + +“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?” + +“But, Mr. Pendleton, I--There's Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna's eyes were +blurred with tears. + +The man made an impatient gesture. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna looked shocked. + +“Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me--all that money +you've saved for the heathen!” + +A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna +was still talking. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +The little girl's forehead puckered into a wistful frown. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Why, Mr. Pendleton, she's glad, I know, to have--” + +“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. + +Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh. + +“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.” + +John Pendleton smiled grimly. + +“Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn't mention +it--yesterday.” + +“I didn't--only to the doctor; and of course he doesn't count.” + +“The doctor!” cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. +“Not--Dr.--Chilton?” + +“Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me to-day, you know.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. + +“Why, I don't remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well +imagine you did want to see me.” + +“Oh, did he, indeed!” answered John Pendleton. And Pollyanna wondered +why he gave that sudden queer little laugh. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. A QUESTION ANSWERED + +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. + +“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!” + +“Was she?” murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, eyeing the clouds in her +turn. + +Nancy sniffed a little. + +“You don't seem ter notice what I said,” she observed aggrievedly. “I +said yer aunt was WORRIED about ye!” + +“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.” + +“Well, I'm glad,” retorted Nancy, unexpectedly. “I am, I am.” + +Pollyanna stared. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“Why, it means worried--and worried is horrid--to feel,” maintained +Pollyanna. “What else can it mean?” + +Nancy tossed her head. + +“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.” + +“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. + +Nancy chuckled. + +“You're right she is--and she always was, I guess! But she's somethin' +more, now, since you came.” + +Pollyanna's face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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--” + +With a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up just in time. + +“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. + +“Oh, Nancy, I'm so glad--glad--glad! You don't know how glad I am that +Aunt Polly--wants me!” + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the 'glad game' with me, all the rest of +my life?” asked the man, gently. + +“Oh, yes,” cried Pollyanna. “I've thought of the very gladdest kind of a +thing for you to do, and--” + +“With--YOU?” asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern at +the corners. + +“N-no; but--” + +“Pollyanna, you aren't going to say no!” interrupted a voice deep with +emotion. + +“I--I've got to, Mr. Pendleton; truly I have. Aunt Polly--” + +“Did she REFUSE--to let you--come?” + +“I--I didn't ask her,” stammered the little girl, miserably. + +“Pollyanna!” + +Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved +gaze of her friend. + +“So you didn't even ask her!” + +“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!” + +There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate +broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke. + +“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. + +“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!” + +“Not for me, Pollyanna.” + +“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.” + +“As if I would have any but you!” resented an indignant voice. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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!” + +“Take--WHO?” + +“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!” + +“Will he? Well, I won't,” ejaculated the man, decisively. “Pollyanna, +this is sheer nonsense!” + +“You don't mean--you won't take him?” + +“I certainly do mean just that.” + +“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.” + +“I don't doubt it,” rejoined the man; “but--I think I prefer the +lonesomeness.” + +It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly +remembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin +aggrievedly. + +“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!” + +“SKELETON?” + +“Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, somewhere.” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + + + +CHAPTER XXII. SERMONS AND WOODBOXES + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +Clearly something must be done, and done at once. But what? + +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: + +“'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.' + +“'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.' + +“'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.'” + +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. + +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? + +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. + +It was there that Pollyanna, on her way home from the Pendleton house, +found him. With a little cry she ran forward. + +“Oh, oh, Mr. Ford! You--YOU haven't broken YOUR leg or--or anything, +have you?” she gasped. + +The minister dropped his hands, and looked up quickly. He tried to +smile. + +“No, dear--no, indeed! I'm just--resting.” + +“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.” + +“Yes, I am sitting up; and I haven't broken anything--that doctors can +mend.” + +The last words were very low, but Pollyanna heard them. A swift change +crossed her face. Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy. + +“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.” + +The Rev. Paul Ford turned a little wonderingly. + +“Was YOUR father a minister, Pollyanna?” + +“Yes, sir. Didn't you know? I supposed everybody knew that. He married +Aunt Polly's sister, and she was my mother.” + +“Oh, I understand. But, you see, I haven't been here many years, so I +don't know all the family histories.” + +“Yes, sir--I mean, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. + +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. + +“It--it's a nice day,” she began hopefully. + +For a moment there was no answer; then the minister looked up with a +start. + +“What? Oh!--yes, it is a very nice day.” + +“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?” + +There was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently, before +she tried again--by a new route. + +“Do You like being a minister?” + +The Rev. Paul Ford looked up now, very quickly. + +“Do I like--Why, what an odd question! Why do you ask that, my dear?” + +“Nothing--only the way you looked. It made me think of my father. He +used to look like that--sometimes.” + +“Did he?” The minister's voice was polite, but his eyes had gone back to +the dried leaf on the ground. + +“Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you if he was glad he was a +minister.” + +The man under the tree smiled a little sadly. + +“Well--what did he say?” + +“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.” + +“The--WHAT?” The Rev. Paul Ford's eyes left the leaf and gazed +wonderingly into Pollyanna's merry little face. + +“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.” + +“Eight hundred!” + +“Yes--that told you to rejoice and be glad, you know; that's why father +named 'em the 'rejoicing texts.'” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“And what game might that be?” asked the minister. + +“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. + +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. + +At the foot of the hill their ways parted, and Pollyanna down one road, +and the minister down another, walked on alone. + +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.” + +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. + +“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: + +“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!” + +On and on read the minister--a word here, a line there, a paragraph +somewhere else: + +“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!” + +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. + +“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. + +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: + +“Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, ye righteous, and shout for joy all ye +that are upright in heart.” + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. AN ACCIDENT + +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. + +“I've never been to your home before! This IS your home, isn't it?” she +said, looking interestedly about her. + +The doctor smiled a little sadly. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic +understanding. + +“I know. It takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence to +make a home,” she said. + +“Eh?” The doctor wheeled about abruptly. + +“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.” + +Dr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly. + +“So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home, +does he?” he asked evasively. + +“Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don't you, Dr. Chilton?” + +“Why don't I--what?” The doctor had turned back to his desk. + +“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. + +“No--I didn't tell any one, Pollyanna,” replied the doctor, a little +queerly. + +“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.” + +“Did he?” The doctor's lips twitched. + +“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?” + +There was a moment's silence; then very gravely the doctor said: + +“They're not always to be had--for the asking, little girl.” + +Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. + +“But I should think you could get 'em,” she argued. The flattering +emphasis was unmistakable. + +“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. + +Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise. + +“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?” + +The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly. + +“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?” + +Pollyanna shook her head. + +“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!” + + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“Is she hurt--bad?” The old man's voice shook. + +“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!” + +“Couldn't ye tell anythin' what it done to her?--that--that--” Old Tom's +face worked convulsively. + +Nancy's lips relaxed a little. + +“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!” + +“But where is she hurt?” + +“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.” + +A faint flicker came into Old Tom's eyes. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +It was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyanna opened conscious +eyes and realized where she was. + +“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. + +“No, dear, I wouldn't try--just yet,” soothed her aunt quickly, but very +quietly. + +“But what is the matter? Why can't I get up?” + +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. + +The young woman nodded. + +“Tell her,” the lips said. + +Miss Polly cleared her throat, and tried to swallow the lump that would +scarcely let her speak. + +“You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last night. But never mind that +now. Auntie wants you to rest and go to sleep again.” + +“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!” + +“Yes, dear; but never mind. Just--just rest.” + +“But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad! My legs feel so--so +queer--only they don't FEEL--at all!” + +With an imploring look into the nurse's face, Miss Polly struggled to +her feet, and turned away. The nurse came forward quickly. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna's eyes grew a bit wild. + +“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?” + +From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a half-stifled +cry. + +“To-morrow?” smiled the nurse, brightly. + +“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.” + +“All right,” agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; “but I MUST go to +school day after to-morrow--there are examinations then, you know.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON + +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. + +“And so it's hurt that I am, and not sick,” she sighed at last. “Well, +I'm glad of that.” + +“G-glad, Pollyanna?” asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna laughed softly. + +“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.” + +“Pollyanna!” + +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!” + +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. + + +It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old Tom, who was cleaning +harnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild. + +“Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, guess what's happened,” she panted. “You couldn't +guess in a thousand years--you couldn't, you couldn't!” + +“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.” + +“Well, listen, then. Who do you s'pose is in the parlor now with the +mistress? Who, I say?” + +Old Tom shook his head. + +“There's no tellin',” he declared. + +“Yes, there is. I'm tellin'. It's--John Pendleton!” + +“Sho, now! You're jokin', girl.” + +“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!” + +“Well, why not?” demanded the old man, a little aggressively. + +Nancy gave him a scornful glance. + +“As if you didn't know better'n me!” she derided. + +“Eh?” + +“Oh, you needn't be so innercent,” she retorted with mock indignation; +“--you what led me wildgoose chasin' in the first place!” + +“What do ye mean?” + +Nancy glanced through the open barn door toward the house, and came a +step nearer to the old man. + +“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!” + +With a gesture of indifference Old Tom turned and fell to work. + +“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.” + +Nancy laughed. + +“Well, it's this,” she explained. “I heard somethin' that made me think +him an' Miss Polly was lovers.” + +“MR. PENDLETON!” Old Tom straightened up. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Runnin' after any man--her!” interjected Nancy. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“What did she say?” Old Tom held his breath suspended. + +“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. + +“Humph!” grunted Old Tom; and fell to work again. + + +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. + +“I called to ask for--Pollyanna,” he began at once, a little brusquely. + +“Thank you. She is about the same,” said Miss Polly. + +“And that is--won't you tell me HOW she is?” His voice was not quite +steady this time. + +A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman's face. + +“I can't, I wish I could!” + +“You mean--you don't know?” + +“Yes.” + +“But--the doctor?” + +“Dr. Warren himself seems--at sea. He is in correspondence now with a +New York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once.” + +“But--but what WERE her injuries that you do know?” + +“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.” + +A low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence; then, huskily, +he asked: + +“And Pollyanna--how does she--take it?” + +“She doesn't understand--at all--how things really are. And I CAN'T tell +her.” + +“But she must know--something!” + +Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the gesture +that had become so common to her of late. + +“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!” + +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!” + +It was this thought that made him ask very gently, as soon as he could +control his voice: + +“I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get +Pollyanna to come and live with me.” + +“With YOU!--Pollyanna!” + +The man winced a little at the tone of her voice; but his own voice was +still impersonally cool when he spoke again. + +“Yes. I wanted to adopt her--legally, you understand; making her my +heir, of course.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Well?” she said. And the man, recognizing the self-control that +vibrated through the harshness of the tone, smiled sadly. + +“She would not come,” he answered. + +“Why?” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + + + +CHAPTER XXV. A WAITING GAME + +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. + +“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.” + +A joyous light came to Pollyanna's face. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna's face fell. + +“I don't believe he knows half so much as Dr. Chilton.” + +“Oh, yes, he does, I'm sure, dear.” + +“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!” + +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: + +“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.” + +Pollyanna still looked unconvinced. + +“But, Aunt Polly, if you LOVED Dr. Chilton--” + +“WHAT, Pollyanna?” Aunt Polly's voice was very sharp now. Her cheeks +were very red, too. + +“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.” + +The nurse entered the room at that moment, and Aunt Polly rose to her +feet abruptly, a look of relief on her face. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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! + +“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!” + +Old Tom chuckled. + +“Well, it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain't lookin' none the +worse--for wearin' them 'ere curls 'round her forehead,” he observed +dryly. + +“'Course she ain't,” retorted Nancy, indignantly. “She looks like +FOLKS, now. She's actually almost--” + +“Keerful, now, Nancy!” interrupted the old man, with a slow grin. “You +know what you said when I told ye she was handsome once.” + +Nancy shrugged her shoulders. + +“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.” + +“I told ye so,” nodded the man. “I told ye she wa'n't--old.” + +Nancy laughed. + +“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!” + +“Hain't ye?” asked the old man, with an odd look on his face. “Well, I +guess ye won't then from me.” + +“Oh, Mr. Tom, come on, now,” wheedled the girl. “Ye see, there ain't +many folks here that I CAN ask.” + +“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?” + +Nancy shook her head. Her face, too, had sobered. + +“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'.” + +“I know; it's the 'game'--bless her sweet heart!” nodded Old Tom, +blinking a little. + +“She told YOU, then, too, about that 'ere--game?” + +“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?” + +“I couldn't guess. I wouldn't think she could find ANYTHIN' about THAT +ter be glad about!” + +“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.” + +Nancy gave a wistful laugh. + +“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.” + +“MISS POLLY!” + +Nancy chuckled. + +“I guess you hain't got such an awful diff'rent opinion o' the mistress +than I have,” she bridled. + +Old Tom stiffened. + +“I was only thinkin' 'twould be--some of a surprise--to her,” he +explained with dignity. + +“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!” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Yes, 'twas--all 'round, all 'round,” sighed Nancy in her turn, as she +went back to her kitchen. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. A DOOR AJAR + +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. + +“You look quite a lot like MY doctor, you see,” she added engagingly. + +“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. + +“Oh, THAT isn't my doctor,” smiled Pollyanna, divining his thought. “Dr. +Warren is Aunt Polly's doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.” + +“Oh-h!” said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes resting on Miss Polly, +who, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away. + +“Yes.” Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness. +“You see, _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?” + +A swift something crossed the doctor's face that Pollyanna could not +quite translate. + +“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. + + +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. + +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. + +“Not that! Doctor, not that! You don't mean--the child--will NEVER WALK +again!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick, +please!” + +The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very +pale. + +“She--she can't come just this minute, dear. She will--a little later. +What is it? Can't I--get it?” + +Pollyanna shook her head. + +“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!” + +The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Something in her face sent +an added terror to Pollyanna's eyes. + +“Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isn't true! You don't +mean I can't ever--walk again?” + +“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.” + +“But Aunt Polly said he did know! She said he knew more than anybody +else about--about broken legs like mine!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +Obediently Pollyanna took the medicine, and sipped the water from the +glass in Miss Hunt's hand. + +“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?” + +Miss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust herself to speak just then. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. TWO VISITS + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Well?” + +In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the +anxiety that lay behind that short “well?” + +“It ain't well, Mr. Pendleton,” she choked. + +“You don't mean--” He paused, and she bowed her head miserably. + +“Yes, sir. He says--she can't walk again--never.” + +For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, +in a voice shaken with emotion. + +“Poor--little--girl! Poor--little--girl!” + +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. + +“It seems cruel--never to dance in the sunshine again! My little prism +girl!” + +There was another silence; then, abruptly, the man asked: + +“She herself doesn't know yet--of course--does she?” + +“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.” + +“Poor--little--girl!” sighed the man again. + +“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. + +“The 'glad game'?” asked the man. “Oh, yes; she told me of that.” + +“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.” + +“Well, why should she?” retorted the man, almost savagely. + +Nancy shifted her feet uneasily. + +“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.” + +“To remind her! Of what?” John Pendleton's voice was still angrily +impatient. + +“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.” + +Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his +eyes. + +“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. + +At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly: + +“I couldn't be tellin' Miss Pollyanna that--that you'd seen Jimmy Bean +again, I s'pose, sir, could I?” + +“I don't see how you could--as I haven't seen him,” observed the man a +little shortly. “Why?” + +“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.” + +“Yes, I know--what she means.” + +“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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches to-day. + +“I don't need to tell you how shocked I am,” he began almost harshly. +“But can--nothing be done?” + +Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control. + +“You will adopt Jimmy Bean!” she gasped. + +The man lifted his chin a little. + +“Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she +would be--GLAD!” + +“Why, of--of course,” faltered Miss Polly. + +“Thank you,” bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go. + +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? + +With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went up-stairs to Pollyanna's +room. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna's wistful little face flamed into sudden joy. + +“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.” + +“The--what?” + +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! + +“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.” + +“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. + +Pollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask further embarrassing +questions, hastened to lead the conversation away from the Pendleton +house and its master. + +“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. + +Miss Polly turned with a start. + +“DR. CHILTON! How do you know--that?” + +“He told me so. 'Twas when he said he lived in just rooms, you know--not +a home.” + +Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window. + +“So I asked him why he didn't get 'em--a woman's hand and heart, and +have a home.” + +“Pollyanna!” Miss Polly had turned sharply. Her cheeks showed a sudden +color. + +“Well, I did. He looked so--so sorrowful.” + +“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. + +“He didn't say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you +couldn't always get 'em for the asking.” + +There was a brief silence. Miss Polly's eyes had turned again to the +window. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink. + +Pollyanna sighed. + +“He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.” + +“Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?” + +“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. + +“Nothing, dear. I was changing the position of this prism,” said Aunt +Polly, whose whole face now was aflame. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS + +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. + +“I--I came to inquire for the little girl,” she stammered. + +“You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?” rejoined +Miss Polly, wearily. + +“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. + +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: + +“I don't think I quite understand, Milly. Just what is it that you want +me to tell my niece?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“Why, of course,” murmured Miss Polly, wondering just how much of this +remarkable discourse she could remember to tell. + +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. + +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. + +Miss Polly shook her head. + +“I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A little later--perhaps.” + +Mrs. Benton wiped her eyes, rose, and turned to go. But after she had +almost reached the hall door she came back hurriedly. + +“Miss Harrington, perhaps, you'd give her--a message,” she stammered. + +“Certainly, Mrs. Benton; I shall be very glad to.” + +Still the little woman hesitated; then she spoke. + +“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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“You are very kind,” murmured Miss Polly. + +“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?” + +“Certainly.” + +“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. + +Thoroughly mystified now, Miss Polly hurried up-stairs to Pollyanna's +room. + +“Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?” + +“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. + +Miss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna clapped her hands softly. + +“Did she say that--really? Oh, I'm so glad!” + +“But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?” + +“Why, it's the game, and--” Pollyanna stopped short, her fingers to her +lips. + +“What game?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +Miss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew back, indeed, as she entered +the room. + +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. + +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. + +The woman hesitated; then a little brusquely she spoke. Her chin was +still at a slightly defiant tilt. + +“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.” + +She paused, and cleared her throat; but when she resumed her voice was +still husky. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Well, we've heard now that she's fretting her poor little life out of +her, because she can't play it no more--that there's nothing to be glad +about. And that's what I came to tell her to-day--that maybe she can be +a little glad for us, 'cause we've decided to stick to each other, and +play the game ourselves. I knew she would be glad, because she used to +feel kind of bad--at things we said, sometimes. Just how the game is +going to help us, I can't say that I exactly see, yet; but maybe 'twill. +Anyhow, we're going to try--'cause she wanted us to. Will you tell her?” + +“Yes, I will tell her,” promised Miss Polly, a little faintly. Then, +with sudden impulse, she stepped forward and held out her hand. “And +thank you for coming, Mrs. Payson,” she said simply. + +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. + +The door had scarcely closed behind her before Miss Polly was +confronting Nancy in the kitchen. + +“Nancy!” + +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. + +“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?” + +To Miss Polly's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. + +“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.” + +“Glad of what?” + +“Just glad! That's the game.” + +Miss Polly actually stamped her foot. + +“There you go like all the rest, Nancy. What game?” + +Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked her squarely in +the eye. + +“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.” + +“Glad for--CRUTCHES!” Miss Polly choked back a sob--she was thinking of +the helpless little legs on the bed up-stairs. + +“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.” + +“Oh-h!” cried Miss Polly. + +“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.” + +“But, how--how--” Miss Polly came to a helpless pause. + +“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.” + +“Glad--for Monday mornings!” + +Nancy laughed. + +“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!” + +“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?” + +Nancy hesitated. + +“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.” + +Miss Polly bit her lip. + +“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.” + +“And--and--these others?” Miss Polly's voice shook now. + +“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.” + +“Well, I know somebody who'll play it--now,” choked Miss Polly, as she +turned and sped through the kitchen doorway. + +Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly. + +“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!” + +A little later, in Pollyanna's room, the nurse left Miss Polly and +Pollyanna alone together. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +A faint color stole into Pollyanna's cheeks which was duplicated +suddenly in those of her aunt. + +“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?” + +“But they aren't going 'way off, dear,” evaded Aunt Polly, hurriedly. +“They're going to stay right there together.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Pollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes. + +“Did they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of that!” + +“Yes, she said she hoped you'd be. That's why she told you, to make +you--GLAD, Pollyanna.” + +Pollyanna looked up quickly. + +“Why, Aunt Polly, you--you spoke just as if you knew--DO you know about +the game, Aunt Polly?” + +“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.” + +“Oh, Aunt Polly--YOU? I'm so glad! You see, I've really wanted you most +of anybody, all the time.” + +Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It was even harder this +time to keep her voice steady; but she did it. + +“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.” + +Pollyanna clapped her hands. + +“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!” + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW + +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”! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Which makes me all the gladder, you know, that I HAVE had my legs,” + Pollyanna confided to her aunt afterwards. + + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I +MUST make an examination.” + +“Well--can't you?” + +“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!” + +“But couldn't you go--without a summons?” + +The doctor frowned. + +“Well, hardly. _I_ have some pride, you know.” + +“But if you're so anxious--couldn't you swallow your pride and forget +the quarrel--” + +“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?” + +“Chilton, what was the quarrel?” demanded Pendleton. + +The doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to his feet. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“Walk! Pollyanna!” John Pendleton was saying. “What do you mean?” + +“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!” + +John Pendleton came erect in his chair. + +“You must see her, man! Couldn't you--say, through Dr. Warren?” + +The other shook his head. + +“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!” + +“Yes, and think of what it will mean--if you don't!” retorted Pendleton. + +“But how can I--without a direct request from her aunt?--which I'll +never get!” + +“She must be made to ask you!” + +“How?” + +“I don't know.” + +“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. + +“But if she could be made to see--to understand,” urged John Pendleton. + +“Yes; and who's going to do it?” demanded the doctor, with a savage +turn. + +“I don't know, I don't know,” groaned the other, miserably. + +Outside the window Jimmy Bean stirred suddenly. Up to now he had +scarcely breathed, so intently had he listened to every word. + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM + +“It's Jimmy Bean. He wants ter see ye, ma'am,” announced Nancy in the +doorway. + +“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.” + +“Yes'm. I told him. But he said it was you he wanted.” + +“Very well, I'll come down.” And Miss Polly arose from her chair a +little wearily. + +In the sitting room she found waiting for her a round-eyed, +flushed-faced boy, who began to speak at once. + +“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--” + +“Wh-at?” interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face +changing to one of angry indignation. + +Jimmy sighed despairingly. + +“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.” + +“Jimmy, what are you talking about?” + +Jimmy sighed again. + +“That's what I'm tryin' ter tell ye.” + +“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!” + +Jimmy wet his lips determinedly. + +“Well, ter begin with, Dr. Chilton come ter see Mr. Pendleton, an' they +talked in the library. Do you understand that?” + +“Yes, Jimmy.” Miss Polly's voice was rather faint. + +“Well, the window was open, and I was weedin' the flower-bed under it; +an' I heard 'em talk.” + +“Oh, Jimmy! LISTENING?” + +“'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!” + +“Jimmy, what do you mean?” Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly. + +“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.” + +Miss Polly's face turned very red. + +“But, Jimmy, I--I can't--I couldn't! That is, I didn't know!” Miss Polly +was twisting her fingers together helplessly. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +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: + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. A NEW UNCLE + +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. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“Oh, then you asked him to come,” murmured Pollyanna, contentedly. + +“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. + +Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr. +Chilton held out both his hands to Pollyanna. + +“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. + +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. + +“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!” + +Pollyanna began to clap her hands; but even as she brought her small +palms together the first time, she stopped, and held them suspended. + +“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!” + +Aunt Polly swallowed a sob. + +“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: + +“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!” + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA + +“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! + +“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. + +“I don't see why they cried. _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! + +“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. + +“With heaps of love to everybody, + +“POLLYANNA.” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1450 *** |