"'POLLYANNA\n\nBy Eleanor H. Porter\n\nAuthor of \"Miss Billy,\" \"Miss Billy\'s Decision,\" \"Cross Currents,\" \"The\nTurn of the Tides,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n TO\n My Cousin Belle\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n CHAPTER\n I. MISS POLLY\n II. OLD TOM AND NANCY\n III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA\n IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM\n V. THE GAME\n VI. A QUESTION OF DUTY\n VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS\n VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT\n IX. WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN\n X. A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW\n XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY\n XII. BEFORE THE LADIES\' AID\n XIII. IN PENDLETON WOODS\n XIV. JUST A MATTER OF JELLY\n XV. DR. CHILTON\n XVI. A RED ROSE AND A LACE: SHAWL\n XVII. \"JUST LIKE A BOOK\"\n XVIII. PRISMS\n XIX. WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING\n XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING\n XXI. A QUESTION ANSWERED\n XXII. SERMONS AND WOODBOXES\n XXIII. AN ACCIDENT\n XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON\n XXV. A WAITING GAME\n XXVI. A DOOR AJAR\n XXVII. TWO VISITS\n XXVIII. THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS\n XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW\n XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM\n XXXI. A NEW UNCLE\n XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA\n\n\n\n\nPOLLYANNA\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. MISS POLLY\n\nMiss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this\nJune morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she\nspecially prided herself on her repose of manner. But to-day she was\nhurrying--actually hurrying.\n\nNancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise. Nancy had been\nworking in Miss Polly\'s kitchen only two months, but already she knew\nthat her mistress did not usually hurry.\n\n\"Nancy!\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am.\" Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued wiping\nthe pitcher in her hand.\n\n\"Nancy,\"--Miss Polly\'s voice was very stern now--\"when I\'m talking to\nyou, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I have to say.\"\n\nNancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher down at once, with the\ncloth still about it, thereby nearly tipping it over--which did not add\nto her composure.\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am; I will, ma\'am,\" she stammered, righting the pitcher,\nand turning hastily. \"I was only keepin\' on with my work \'cause you\nspecially told me this mornin\' ter hurry with my dishes, ye know.\"\n\nHer mistress frowned.\n\n\"That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your\nattention.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am.\" Nancy stifled a sigh. She was wondering if ever in any way\nshe could please this woman. Nancy had never \"worked out\" before; but\na sick mother suddenly widowed and left with three younger children\nbesides Nancy herself, had forced the girl into doing something toward\ntheir support, and she had been so pleased when she found a place in\nthe kitchen of the great house on the hill--Nancy had come from \"The\nCorners,\" six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as\nthe mistress of the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest\nresidents of the town. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly\nnow as a stern, severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to\nthe floor, or if a door banged--but who never thought to smile even when\nknives and doors were still.\n\n\"When you\'ve finished your morning work, Nancy,\" Miss Polly was saying\nnow, \"you may clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the\nattic, and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room and clean it, of course,\nafter you clear out the trunks and boxes.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out?\"\n\n\"In the front attic.\" Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: \"I suppose I\nmay as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, is\ncoming to live with me. She is eleven years old, and will sleep in that\nroom.\"\n\n\"A little girl--coming here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won\'t that be nice!\"\ncried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made in the\nhome at \"The Corners.\"\n\n\"Nice? Well, that isn\'t exactly the word I should use,\" rejoined Miss\nPolly, stiffly. \"However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I\nam a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty.\"\n\nNancy colored hotly.\n\n\"Of course, ma\'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here\nmight--might brighten things up for you,\" she faltered.\n\n\"Thank you,\" rejoined the lady, dryly. \"I can\'t say, however, that I see\nany immediate need for that.\"\n\n\"But, of course, you--you\'d want her, your sister\'s child,\" ventured\nNancy, vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a welcome for this\nlonely little stranger.\n\nMiss Polly lifted her chin haughtily.\n\n\"Well, really, Nancy, just because I happened to have a sister who was\nsilly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that\nwas already quite full enough, I can\'t see how I should particularly\nWANT to have the care of them myself. However, as I said before, I hope\nI know my duty. See that you clean the corners, Nancy,\" she finished\nsharply, as she left the room.\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am,\" sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher--now so\ncold it must be rinsed again.\n\n\nIn her own room, Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had\nreceived two days before from the far-away Western town, and which had\nbeen so unpleasant a surprise to her. The letter was addressed to Miss\nPolly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont; and it read as follows:\n\n\"Dear Madam:--I regret to inform you that the Rev. John Whittier died\ntwo weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old. He left\npractically nothing else save a few books; for, as you doubtless know,\nhe was the pastor of this small mission church, and had a very meagre\nsalary.\n\n\"I believe he was your deceased sister\'s husband, but he gave me to\nunderstand the families were not on the best of terms. He thought,\nhowever, that for your sister\'s sake you might wish to take the child\nand bring her up among her own people in the East. Hence I am writing to\nyou.\n\n\"The little girl will be all ready to start by the time you get this\nletter; and if you can take her, we would appreciate it very much if you\nwould write that she might come at once, as there is a man and his wife\nhere who are going East very soon, and they would take her with them to\nBoston, and put her on the Beldingsville train. Of course you would be\nnotified what day and train to expect Pollyanna on.\n\n\"Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain,\n\n\"Respectfully yours,\n\n\"Jeremiah O. White.\"\n\n\nWith a frown Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked it into its\nenvelope. She had answered it the day before, and she had said she would\ntake the child, of course. She HOPED she knew her duty well enough for\nthat!--disagreeable as the task would be.\n\nAs she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her thoughts went back to\nher sister, Jennie, who had been this child\'s mother, and to the time\nwhen Jennie, as a girl of twenty, had insisted upon marrying the young\nminister, in spite of her family\'s remonstrances. There had been a man\nof wealth who had wanted her--and the family had much preferred him to\nthe minister; but Jennie had not. The man of wealth had more years, as\nwell as more money, to his credit, while the minister had only a young\nhead full of youth\'s ideals and enthusiasm, and a heart full of love.\nJennie had preferred these--quite naturally, perhaps; so she had married\nthe minister, and had gone south with him as a home missionary\'s wife.\n\nThe break had come then. Miss Polly remembered it well, though she had\nbeen but a girl of fifteen, the youngest, at the time. The family had\nhad little more to do with the missionary\'s wife. To be sure, Jennie\nherself had written, for a time, and had named her last baby \"Pollyanna\"\nfor her two sisters, Polly and Anna--the other babies had all died. This\nhad been the last time that Jennie had written; and in a few years there\nhad come the news of her death, told in a short, but heart-broken little\nnote from the minister himself, dated at a little town in the West.\n\nMeanwhile, time had not stood still for the occupants of the great house\non the hill. Miss Polly, looking out at the far-reaching valley below,\nthought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her.\n\nShe was forty now, and quite alone in the world. Father, mother,\nsisters--all were dead. For years, now, she had been sole mistress of\nthe house and of the thousands left her by her father. There were people\nwho had openly pitied her lonely life, and who had urged her to have\nsome friend or companion to live with her; but she had not welcomed\neither their sympathy or their advice. She was not lonely, she said. She\nliked being by herself. She preferred quiet. But now--\n\nMiss Polly rose with frowning face and closely-shut lips. She was glad,\nof course, that she was a good woman, and that she not only knew\nher duty, but had sufficient strength of character to perform it.\nBut--POLLYANNA!--what a ridiculous name!\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. OLD TOM AND NANCY\n\nIn the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed vigorously, paying\nparticular attention to the corners. There were times, indeed, when the\nvigor she put into her work was more of a relief to her feelings than\nit was an ardor to efface dirt--Nancy, in spite of her frightened\nsubmission to her mistress, was no saint.\n\n\"I--just--wish--I could--dig--out the corners--of--her--soul!\" she\nmuttered jerkily, punctuating her words with murderous jabs of her\npointed cleaning-stick. \"There\'s plenty of \'em needs cleanin\' all right,\nall right! The idea of stickin\' that blessed child \'way off up here in\nthis hot little room--with no fire in the winter, too, and all this big\nhouse ter pick and choose from! Unnecessary children, indeed! Humph!\"\nsnapped Nancy, wringing her rag so hard her fingers ached from the\nstrain; \"I guess it ain\'t CHILDREN what is MOST unnecessary just now,\njust now!\"\n\nFor some time she worked in silence; then, her task finished, she looked\nabout the bare little room in plain disgust.\n\n\"Well, it\'s done--my part, anyhow,\" she sighed. \"There ain\'t no dirt\nhere--and there\'s mighty little else. Poor little soul!--a pretty place\nthis is ter put a homesick, lonesome child into!\" she finished, going\nout and closing the door with a bang, \"Oh!\" she ejaculated, biting\nher lip. Then, doggedly: \"Well, I don\'t care. I hope she did hear the\nbang,--I do, I do!\"\n\nIn the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to\ninterview Old Tom, who had pulled the weeds and shovelled the paths\nabout the place for uncounted years.\n\n\"Mr. Tom,\" began Nancy, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to\nmake sure she was unobserved; \"did you know a little girl was comin\'\nhere ter live with Miss Polly?\"\n\n\"A--what?\" demanded the old man, straightening his bent back with\ndifficulty.\n\n\"A little girl--to live with Miss Polly.\"\n\n\"Go on with yer jokin\',\" scoffed unbelieving Tom. \"Why don\'t ye tell me\nthe sun is a-goin\' ter set in the east ter-morrer?\"\n\n\"But it\'s true. She told me so herself,\" maintained Nancy. \"It\'s her\nniece; and she\'s eleven years old.\"\n\nThe man\'s jaw fell.\n\n\"Sho!--I wonder, now,\" he muttered; then a tender light came into his\nfaded eyes. \"It ain\'t--but it must be--Miss Jennie\'s little gal! There\nwasn\'t none of the rest of \'em married. Why, Nancy, it must be Miss\nJennie\'s little gal. Glory be ter praise! ter think of my old eyes\na-seein\' this!\"\n\n\"Who was Miss Jennie?\"\n\n\"She was an angel straight out of Heaven,\" breathed the man, fervently;\n\"but the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter. She\nwas twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her\nbabies all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be the one\nwhat\'s a-comin\'.\"\n\n\"She\'s eleven years old.\"\n\n\"Yes, she might be,\" nodded the old man.\n\n\"And she\'s goin\' ter sleep in the attic--more shame ter HER!\" scolded\nNancy, with another glance over her shoulder toward the house behind\nher.\n\nOld Tom frowned. The next moment a curious smile curved his lips.\n\n\"I\'m a-wonderin\' what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"Humph! Well, I\'m a-wonderin\' what a child will do with Miss Polly in\nthe house!\" snapped Nancy.\n\nThe old man laughed.\n\n\"I\'m afraid you ain\'t fond of Miss Polly,\" he grinned.\n\n\"As if ever anybody could be fond of her!\" scorned Nancy.\n\nOld Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began to work again.\n\n\"I guess maybe you didn\'t know about Miss Polly\'s love affair,\" he said\nslowly.\n\n\"Love affair--HER! No!--and I guess nobody else didn\'t, neither.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes they did,\" nodded the old man. \"And the feller\'s livin\'\nter-day--right in this town, too.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\n\"I ain\'t a-tellin\' that. It ain\'t fit that I should.\" The old man drew\nhimself erect. In his dim blue eyes, as he faced the house, there was\nthe loyal servant\'s honest pride in the family he has served and loved\nfor long years.\n\n\"But it don\'t seem possible--her and a lover,\" still maintained Nancy.\n\nOld Tom shook his head.\n\n\"You didn\'t know Miss Polly as I did,\" he argued. \"She used ter be real\nhandsome--and she would be now, if she\'d let herself be.\"\n\n\"Handsome! Miss Polly!\"\n\n\"Yes. If she\'d just let that tight hair of hern all out loose and\ncareless-like, as it used ter be, and wear the sort of bunnits with\nposies in \'em, and the kind o\' dresses all lace and white things--you\'d\nsee she\'d be handsome! Miss Polly ain\'t old, Nancy.\"\n\n\"Ain\'t she, though? Well, then she\'s got an awfully good imitation of\nit--she has, she has!\" sniffed Nancy.\n\n\"Yes, I know. It begun then--at the time of the trouble with her lover,\"\nnodded Old Tom; \"and it seems as if she\'d been feedin\' on wormwood an\'\nthistles ever since--she\'s that bitter an\' prickly ter deal with.\"\n\n\"I should say she was,\" declared Nancy, indignantly. \"There\'s no\npleasin\' her, nohow, no matter how you try! I wouldn\'t stay if \'twa\'n\'t\nfor the wages and the folks at home what\'s needin\' \'em. But some\nday--some day I shall jest b\'ile over; and when I do, of course it\'ll be\ngood-by Nancy for me. It will, it will.\"\n\nOld Tom shook his head.\n\n\"I know. I\'ve felt it. It\'s nart\'ral--but \'tain\'t best, child; \'tain\'t\nbest. Take my word for it, \'tain\'t best.\" And again he bent his old head\nto the work before him.\n\n\"Nancy!\" called a sharp voice.\n\n\"Y-yes, ma\'am,\" stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA\n\nIn due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive in\nBeldingsville the next day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o\'clock.\nMiss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the\nattic room. She still frowned as she looked about her.\n\nThe room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs,\na washstand, a bureau--without any mirror--and a small table. There were\nno drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All\nday the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room\nwas like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not\nbeen raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and\ndown, up and down, trying to get out.\n\nMiss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window (raising the sash\nan inch for the purpose), straightened a chair, frowned again, and left\nthe room.\n\n\"Nancy,\" she said a few minutes later, at the kitchen door, \"I found a\nfly up-stairs in Miss Pollyanna\'s room. The window must have been raised\nat some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall\nexpect you to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive\nto-morrow at four o\'clock. I desire you to meet her at the station.\nTimothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says\n\'light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.\' That is all I\nknow, but I think it is sufficient for your purpose.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am; but--you--\"\n\nMiss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said\ncrisply:\n\n\"No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is\nall.\" And she turned away--Miss Polly\'s arrangements for the comfort of\nher niece, Pollyanna, were complete.\n\nIn the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a vicious dig across the\ndish-towel she was ironing.\n\n\"\'Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat\'--all she knows,\nindeed! Well, I\'d be ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would--and\nher my onliest niece what was a-comin\' from \'way across the continent!\"\n\nPromptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and Nancy\ndrove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was Old\nTom\'s son. It was sometimes said in the town that if Old Tom was Miss\nPolly\'s right-hand man, Timothy was her left.\n\nTimothy was a good-natured youth, and a good-looking one, as well.\nShort as had been Nancy\'s stay at the house, the two were already good\nfriends. To-day, however, Nancy was too full of her mission to be her\nusual talkative self; and almost in silence she took the drive to the\nstation and alighted to wait for the train.\n\nOver and over in her mind she was saying it \"light hair, red-checked\ndress, straw hat.\" Over and over again she was wondering just what sort\nof child this Pollyanna was, anyway.\n\n\"I hope for her sake she\'s quiet and sensible, and don\'t drop knives nor\nbang doors,\" she sighed to Timothy, who had sauntered up to her.\n\n\"Well, if she ain\'t, nobody knows what\'ll become of the rest of us,\"\ngrinned Timothy. \"Imagine Miss Polly and a NOISY kid! Gorry! there goes\nthe whistle now!\"\n\n\"Oh, Timothy, I--I think it was mean ter send me,\" chattered the\nsuddenly frightened Nancy, as she turned and hurried to a point where\nshe could best watch the passengers alight at the little station.\n\nIt was not long before Nancy saw her--the slender little girl in the\nred-checked gingham with two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her\nback. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled little face turned to\nthe right and to the left, plainly searching for some one.\n\nNancy knew the child at once, but not for some time could she control\nher shaking knees sufficiently to go to her. The little girl was\nstanding quite by herself when Nancy finally did approach her.\n\n\"Are you Miss--Pollyanna?\" she faltered. The next moment she found\nherself half smothered in the clasp of two gingham-clad arms.\n\n\"Oh, I\'m so glad, GLAD, GLAD to see you,\" cried an eager voice in her\near. \"Of course I\'m Pollyanna, and I\'m so glad you came to meet me! I\nhoped you would.\"\n\n\"You--you did?\" stammered Nancy, vaguely wondering how Pollyanna could\npossibly have known her--and wanted her. \"You--you did?\" she repeated,\ntrying to straighten her hat.\n\n\"Oh, yes; and I\'ve been wondering all the way here what you looked\nlike,\" cried the little girl, dancing on her toes, and sweeping the\nembarrassed Nancy from head to foot, with her eyes. \"And now I know, and\nI\'m glad you look just like you do look.\"\n\nNancy was relieved just then to have Timothy come up. Pollyanna\'s words\nhad been most confusing.\n\n\"This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,\" she stammered.\n\n\"Yes, I have,\" nodded Pollyanna, importantly. \"I\'ve got a brand-new one.\nThe Ladies\' Aid bought it for me--and wasn\'t it lovely of them, when\nthey wanted the carpet so? Of course I don\'t know how much red carpet\na trunk could buy, but it ought to buy some, anyhow--much as half an\naisle, don\'t you think? I\'ve got a little thing here in my bag that Mr.\nGray said was a check, and that I must give it to you before I could\nget my trunk. Mr. Gray is Mrs. Gray\'s husband. They\'re cousins of Deacon\nCarr\'s wife. I came East with them, and they\'re lovely! And--there, here\n\'tis,\" she finished, producing the check after much fumbling in the bag\nshe carried.\n\nNancy drew a long breath. Instinctively she felt that some one had\nto draw one--after that speech. Then she stole a glance at Timothy.\nTimothy\'s eyes were studiously turned away.\n\nThe three were off at last, with Pollyanna\'s trunk in behind, and\nPollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy. During\nthe whole process of getting started, the little girl had kept up an\nuninterrupted stream of comments and questions, until the somewhat dazed\nNancy found herself quite out of breath trying to keep up with her.\n\n\"There! Isn\'t this lovely? Is it far? I hope \'tis--I love to ride,\"\nsighed Pollyanna, as the wheels began to turn. \"Of course, if \'tisn\'t\nfar, I sha\'n\'t mind, though, \'cause I\'ll be glad to get there all the\nsooner, you know. What a pretty street! I knew \'twas going to be pretty;\nfather told me--\"\n\nShe stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy, looking at her\napprehensively, saw that her small chin was quivering, and that her eyes\nwere full of tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with a brave\nlifting of her head.\n\n\"Father told me all about it. He remembered. And--and I ought to have\nexplained before. Mrs. Gray told me to, at once--about this red gingham\ndress, you know, and why I\'m not in black. She said you\'d think \'twas\nqueer. But there weren\'t any black things in the last missionary\nbarrel, only a lady\'s velvet basque which Deacon Carr\'s wife said wasn\'t\nsuitable for me at all; besides, it had white spots--worn, you know--on\nboth elbows, and some other places. Part of the Ladies\' Aid wanted to\nbuy me a black dress and hat, but the other part thought the money ought\nto go toward the red carpet they\'re trying to get--for the church, you\nknow. Mrs. White said maybe it was just as well, anyway, for she didn\'t\nlike children in black--that is, I mean, she liked the children, of\ncourse, but not the black part.\"\n\nPollyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed to stammer:\n\n\"Well, I\'m sure it--it\'ll be all right.\"\n\n\"I\'m glad you feel that way. I do, too,\" nodded Pollyanna, again with\nthat choking little breath. \"Of course, \'twould have been a good deal\nharder to be glad in black--\"\n\n\"Glad!\" gasped Nancy, surprised into an interruption.\n\n\"Yes--that father\'s gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of us,\nyou know. He said I must be glad. But it\'s been pretty hard to--to do\nit, even in red gingham, because I--I wanted him, so; and I couldn\'t\nhelp feeling I OUGHT to have him, specially as mother and the rest have\nGod and all the angels, while I didn\'t have anybody but the Ladies\' Aid.\nBut now I\'m sure it\'ll be easier because I\'ve got you, Aunt Polly. I\'m\nso glad I\'ve got you!\"\n\nNancy\'s aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her\nturned suddenly into shocked terror.\n\n\"Oh, but--but you\'ve made an awful mistake, d-dear,\" she faltered. \"I\'m\nonly Nancy. I ain\'t your Aunt Polly, at all!\"\n\n\"You--you AREN\'T?\" stammered the little girl, in plain dismay.\n\n\"No. I\'m only Nancy. I never thought of your takin\' me for her. We--we\nain\'t a bit alike we ain\'t, we ain\'t!\"\n\nTimothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the merry\nflash from his eyes.\n\n\"But who ARE you?\" questioned Pollyanna. \"You don\'t look a bit like a\nLadies\' Aider!\"\n\nTimothy laughed outright this time.\n\n\"I\'m Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washin\' an\'\nhard ironin\'. Mis\' Durgin does that.\"\n\n\"But there IS an Aunt Polly?\" demanded the child, anxiously.\n\n\"You bet your life there is,\" cut in Timothy.\n\nPollyanna relaxed visibly.\n\n\"Oh, that\'s all right, then.\" There was a moment\'s silence, then she\nwent on brightly: \"And do you know? I\'m glad, after all, that she didn\'t\ncome to meet me; because now I\'ve got HER still coming, and I\'ve got you\nbesides.\"\n\nNancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile.\n\n\"I call that a pretty slick compliment,\" he said. \"Why don\'t you thank\nthe little lady?\"\n\n\"I--I was thinkin\' about--Miss Polly,\" faltered Nancy.\n\nPollyanna sighed contentedly.\n\n\"I was, too. I\'m so interested in her. You know she\'s all the aunt I\'ve\ngot, and I didn\'t know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me.\nHe said she lived in a lovely great big house \'way on top of a hill.\"\n\n\"She does. You can see it now,\" said Nancy.\n\n\"It\'s that big white one with the green blinds, \'way ahead.\"\n\n\"Oh, how pretty!--and what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I\nnever saw such a lot of green grass, seems so, all at once. Is my Aunt\nPolly rich, Nancy?\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss.\"\n\n\"I\'m so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. I never\nknew any one that did have, only the Whites--they\'re some rich. They\nhave carpets in every room and ice-cream Sundays. Does Aunt Polly have\nice-cream Sundays?\"\n\nNancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into\nTimothy\'s eyes.\n\n\"No, Miss. Your aunt don\'t like ice-cream, I guess; leastways I never\nsaw it on her table.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s face fell.\n\n\"Oh, doesn\'t she? I\'m so sorry! I don\'t see how she can help liking\nice-cream. But--anyhow, I can be kinder glad about that, \'cause the\nice-cream you don\'t eat can\'t make your stomach ache like Mrs. White\'s\ndid--that is, I ate hers, you know, lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got\nthe carpets, though.\"\n\n\"Yes, she\'s got the carpets.\"\n\n\"In every room?\"\n\n\"Well, in almost every room,\" answered Nancy, frowning suddenly at the\nthought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet.\n\n\"Oh, I\'m so glad,\" exulted Pollyanna. \"I love carpets. We didn\'t have\nany, only two little rugs that came in a missionary barrel, and one\nof those had ink spots on it. Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly\nbeautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some\nlambs and a lion--not together, you know--the lambs and the lion. Oh, of\ncourse the Bible says they will sometime, but they haven\'t yet--that is,\nI mean Mrs. White\'s haven\'t. Don\'t you just love pictures?\"\n\n\"I--I don\'t know,\" answered Nancy in a half-stifled voice.\n\n\"I do. We didn\'t have any pictures. They don\'t come in the barrels much,\nyou know. There did two come once, though. But one was so good father\nsold it to get money to buy me some shoes with; and the other was so bad\nit fell to pieces just as soon as we hung it up. Glass--it broke, you\nknow. And I cried. But I\'m glad now we didn\'t have any of those nice\nthings, \'cause I shall like Aunt Polly\'s all the better--not being used\nto \'em, you see. Just as it is when the PRETTY hair-ribbons come in\nthe barrels after a lot of faded-out brown ones. My! but isn\'t this a\nperfectly beautiful house?\" she broke off fervently, as they turned into\nthe wide driveway.\n\nIt was when Timothy was unloading the trunk that Nancy found an\nopportunity to mutter low in his ear:\n\n\"Don\'t you never say nothin\' ter me again about leavin\', Timothy Durgin.\nYou couldn\'t HIRE me ter leave!\"\n\n\"Leave! I should say not,\" grinned the youth.\n\n\"You couldn\'t drag me away. It\'ll be more fun here now, with that kid\n\'round, than movin\'-picture shows, every day!\"\n\n\"Fun!--fun!\" repeated Nancy, indignantly, \"I guess it\'ll be somethin\'\nmore than fun for that blessed child--when them two tries ter live\ntergether; and I guess she\'ll be a-needin\' some rock ter fly to for\nrefuge. Well, I\'m a-goin\' ter be that rock, Timothy; I am, I am!\" she\nvowed, as she turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM\n\nMiss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece. She looked up\nfrom her book, it is true, as Nancy and the little girl appeared in the\nsitting-room doorway, and she held out a hand with \"duty\" written large\non every coldly extended finger.\n\n\"How do you do, Pollyanna? I--\" She had no chance to say more.\nPollyanna, had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into her\naunt\'s scandalized, unyielding lap.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don\'t know how to be glad enough that\nyou let me come to live with you,\" she was sobbing. \"You don\'t know how\nperfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after you\'ve\nhad just the Ladies\' Aid!\"\n\n\"Very likely--though I\'ve not had the pleasure of the Ladies\' Aid\'s\nacquaintance,\" rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly, trying to unclasp the\nsmall, clinging fingers, and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in the\ndoorway. \"Nancy, that will do. You may go. Pollyanna, be good enough,\nplease, to stand erect in a proper manner. I don\'t know yet what you\nlook like.\"\n\nPollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little hysterically.\n\n\"No, I suppose you don\'t; but you see I\'m not very much to look at,\nanyway, on account of the freckles. Oh, and I ought to explain about the\nred gingham and the black velvet basque with white spots on the elbows.\nI told Nancy how father said--\"\n\n\"Yes; well, never mind now what your father said,\" interrupted Miss\nPolly, crisply. \"You had a trunk, I presume?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, indeed, Aunt Polly. I\'ve got a beautiful trunk that the\nLadies\' Aid gave me. I haven\'t got so very much in it--of my own, I\nmean. The barrels haven\'t had many clothes for little girls in them\nlately; but there were all father\'s books, and Mrs. White said she\nthought I ought to have those. You see, father--\"\n\n\"Pollyanna,\" interrupted her aunt again, sharply, \"there is one thing\nthat might just as well be understood right away at once; and that is, I\ndo not care to have you keep talking of your father to me.\"\n\nThe little girl drew in her breath tremulously.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, you--you mean--\" She hesitated, and her aunt filled\nthe pause.\n\n\"We will go up-stairs to your room. Your trunk is already there, I\npresume. I told Timothy to take it up--if you had one. You may follow\nme, Pollyanna.\"\n\nWithout speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room.\nHer eyes were brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely high.\n\n\"After all, I--I reckon I\'m glad she doesn\'t want me to talk about\nfather,\" Pollyanna was thinking. \"It\'ll be easier, maybe--if I don\'t\ntalk about him. Probably, anyhow, that is why she told me not to talk\nabout him.\" And Pollyanna, convinced anew of her aunt\'s \"kindness,\"\nblinked off the tears and looked eagerly about her.\n\nShe was on the stairway now. Just ahead, her aunt\'s black silk skirt\nrustled luxuriously. Behind her an open door allowed a glimpse of\nsoft-tinted rugs and satin-covered chairs. Beneath her feet a marvellous\ncarpet was like green moss to the tread. On every side the gilt of\npicture frames or the glint of sunlight through the filmy mesh of lace\ncurtains flashed in her eyes.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly,\" breathed the little girl, rapturously;\n\"what a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully glad you must be\nyou\'re so rich!\"\n\n\"PollyANNA!\" ejaculated her aunt, turning sharply about as she reached\nthe head of the stairs. \"I\'m surprised at you--making a speech like that\nto me!\"\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, AREN\'T you?\" queried Pollyanna, in frank wonder.\n\n\"Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not so far forget myself as to\nbe sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me,\"\ndeclared the lady; \"certainly not, of RICHES!\"\n\nMiss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairway\ndoor. She was glad, now, that she had put the child in the attic room.\nHer idea at first had been to get her niece as far away as possible from\nherself, and at the same time place her where her childish heedlessness\nwould not destroy valuable furnishings. Now--with this evident strain of\nvanity showing thus early--it was all the more fortunate that the room\nplanned for her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly.\n\nEagerly Pollyanna\'s small feet pattered behind her aunt. Still more\neagerly her big blue eyes tried to look in all directions at once, that\nno thing of beauty or interest in this wonderful house might be passed\nunseen. Most eagerly of all her mind turned to the wondrously exciting\nproblem about to be solved: behind which of all these fascinating doors\nwas waiting now her room--the dear, beautiful room full of curtains,\nrugs, and pictures, that was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, her\naunt opened a door and ascended another stairway.\n\nThere was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either side. At\nthe top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led to far corners\nwhere the roof came almost down to the floor, and where were\nstacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot and stifling, too.\nUnconsciously Pollyanna lifted her head higher--it seemed so hard to\nbreathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown open a door at the right.\n\n\"There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I see.\nHave you your key?\"\n\nPollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened.\n\nHer aunt frowned.\n\n\"When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloud\nnot merely with your head.\"\n\n\"Yes, Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"Thank you; that is better. I believe you have everything that you\nneed here,\" she added, glancing at the well-filled towel rack and water\npitcher. \"I will send Nancy up to help you unpack. Supper is at six\no\'clock,\" she finished, as she left the room and swept down-stairs.\n\nFor a moment after she had gone Pollyanna stood quite still, looking\nafter her. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare\nfloor, the bare windows. She turned them last to the little trunk that\nhad stood not so long before in her own little room in the far-away\nWestern home. The next moment she stumbled blindly toward it and fell on\nher knees at its side, covering her face with her hands.\n\nNancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later.\n\n\"There, there, you poor lamb,\" she crooned, dropping to the floor and\ndrawing the little girl into her arms. \"I was just a-fearin! I\'d find\nyou like this, like this.\"\n\nPollyanna shook her head.\n\n\"But I\'m bad and wicked, Nancy--awful wicked,\" she sobbed. \"I just can\'t\nmake myself understand that God and the angels needed my father more\nthan I did.\"\n\n\"No more they did, neither,\" declared Nancy, stoutly.\n\n\"Oh-h!--NANCY!\" The burning horror in Pollyanna\'s eyes dried the tears.\n\nNancy gave a shamefaced smile and rubbed her own eyes vigorously.\n\n\"There, there, child, I didn\'t mean it, of course,\" she cried briskly.\n\"Come, let\'s have your key and we\'ll get inside this trunk and take out\nyour dresses in no time, no time.\"\n\nSomewhat tearfully Pollyanna produced the key.\n\n\"There aren\'t very many there, anyway,\" she faltered.\n\n\"Then they\'re all the sooner unpacked,\" declared Nancy.\n\nPollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile.\n\n\"That\'s so! I can be glad of that, can\'t I?\" she cried.\n\nNancy stared.\n\n\"Why, of--course,\" she answered a little uncertainly.\n\nNancy\'s capable hands made short work of unpacking the books, the\npatched undergarments, and the few pitifully unattractive dresses.\nPollyanna, smiling bravely now, flew about, hanging the dresses in\nthe closet, stacking the books on the table, and putting away the\nundergarments in the bureau drawers.\n\n\"I\'m sure it--it\'s going to be a very nice room. Don\'t you think so?\"\nshe stammered, after a while.\n\nThere was no answer. Nancy was very busy, apparently, with her head in\nthe trunk. Pollyanna, standing at the bureau, gazed a little wistfully\nat the bare wall above.\n\n\"And I can be glad there isn\'t any looking-glass here, too, \'cause where\nthere ISN\'T any glass I can\'t see my freckles.\"\n\nNancy made a sudden queer little sound with her mouth--but when\nPollyanna turned, her head was in the trunk again. At one of the\nwindows, a few minutes later, Pollyanna gave a glad cry and clapped her\nhands joyously.\n\n\"Oh, Nancy, I hadn\'t seen this before,\" she breathed. \"Look--\'way off\nthere, with those trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, and\nthe river shining just like silver. Why, Nancy, there doesn\'t anybody\nneed any pictures with that to look at. Oh, I\'m so glad now she let me\nhave this room!\"\n\nTo Pollyanna\'s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. Pollyanna\nhurriedly crossed to her side.\n\n\"Why, Nancy, Nancy--what is it?\" she cried; then, fearfully: \"This\nwasn\'t--YOUR room, was it?\"\n\n\"My room!\" stormed Nancy, hotly, choking back the tears. \"If you ain\'t\na little angel straight from Heaven, and if some folks don\'t eat dirt\nbefore--Oh, land! there\'s her bell!\" After which amazing speech, Nancy\nsprang to her feet, dashed out of the room, and went clattering down the\nstairs.\n\nLeft alone, Pollyanna went back to her \"picture,\" as she mentally\ndesignated the beautiful view from the window. After a time she touched\nthe sash tentatively. It seemed as if no longer could she endure the\nstifling heat. To her joy the sash moved under her fingers. The next\nmoment the window was wide open, and Pollyanna was leaning far out,\ndrinking in the fresh, sweet air.\n\nShe ran then to the other window. That, too, soon flew up under her\neager hands. A big fly swept past her nose, and buzzed noisily about\nthe room. Then another came, and another; but Pollyanna paid no heed.\nPollyanna had made a wonderful discovery--against this window a\nhuge tree flung great branches. To Pollyanna they looked like arms\noutstretched, inviting her. Suddenly she laughed aloud.\n\n\"I believe I can do it,\" she chuckled. The next moment she had climbed\nnimbly to the window ledge. From there it was an easy matter to step to\nthe nearest tree-branch. Then, clinging like a monkey, she swung herself\nfrom limb to limb until the lowest branch was reached. The drop to the\nground was--even for Pollyanna, who was used to climbing trees--a little\nfearsome. She took it, however, with bated breath, swinging from her\nstrong little arms, and landing on all fours in the soft grass. Then she\npicked herself up and looked eagerly about her.\n\nShe was at the back of the house. Before her lay a garden in which a\nbent old man was working. Beyond the garden a little path through an\nopen field led up a steep hill, at the top of which a lone pine tree\nstood on guard beside the huge rock. To Pollyanna, at the moment, there\nseemed to be just one place in the world worth being in--the top of that\nbig rock.\n\nWith a run and a skilful turn, Pollyanna skipped by the bent old man,\nthreaded her way between the orderly rows of green growing things,\nand--a little out of breath--reached the path that ran through the open\nfield. Then, determinedly, she began to climb. Already, however, she was\nthinking what a long, long way off that rock must be, when back at the\nwindow it had looked so near!\n\n\nFifteen minutes later the great clock in the hallway of the Harrington\nhomestead struck six. At precisely the last stroke Nancy sounded the\nbell for supper.\n\nOne, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly frowned and tapped the floor\nwith her slipper. A little jerkily she rose to her feet, went into the\nhall, and looked up-stairs, plainly impatient. For a minute she listened\nintently; then she turned and swept into the dining room.\n\n\"Nancy,\" she said with decision, as soon as the little serving-maid\nappeared; \"my niece is late. No, you need not call her,\" she added\nseverely, as Nancy made a move toward the hall door. \"I told her what\ntime supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. She\nmay as well begin at once to learn to be punctual. When she comes down\nshe may have bread and milk in the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am.\" It was well, perhaps, that Miss Polly did not happen to be\nlooking at Nancy\'s face just then.\n\nAt the earliest possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up the back\nstairs and thence to the attic room.\n\n\"Bread and milk, indeed!--and when the poor lamb hain\'t only just cried\nherself to sleep,\" she was muttering fiercely, as she softly pushed open\nthe door. The next moment she gave a frightened cry. \"Where are you?\nWhere\'ve you gone? Where HAVE you gone?\" she panted, looking in the\ncloset, under the bed, and even in the trunk and down the water pitcher.\nThen she flew down-stairs and out to Old Tom in the garden.\n\n\"Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, that blessed child\'s gone,\" she wailed. \"She\'s\nvanished right up into Heaven where she come from, poor lamb--and me\ntold ter give her bread and milk in the kitchen--her what\'s eatin\' angel\nfood this minute, I\'ll warrant, I\'ll warrant!\"\n\nThe old man straightened up.\n\n\"Gone? Heaven?\" he repeated stupidly, unconsciously sweeping the\nbrilliant sunset sky with his gaze. He stopped, stared a moment\nintently, then turned with a slow grin. \"Well, Nancy, it do look like as\nif she\'d tried ter get as nigh Heaven as she could, and that\'s a fact,\"\nhe agreed, pointing with a crooked finger to where, sharply outlined\nagainst the reddening sky, a slender, wind-blown figure was poised on\ntop of a huge rock.\n\n\"Well, she ain\'t goin\' ter Heaven that way ter-night--not if I has my\nsay,\" declared Nancy, doggedly. \"If the mistress asks, tell her I ain\'t\nfurgettin\' the dishes, but I gone on a stroll,\" she flung back over her\nshoulder, as she sped toward the path that led through the open field.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. THE GAME\n\n\"For the land\'s sake, Miss Pollyanna, what a scare you did give me,\"\npanted Nancy, hurrying up to the big rock, down which Pollyanna had just\nregretfully slid.\n\n\"Scare? Oh, I\'m so sorry; but you mustn\'t, really, ever get scared about\nme, Nancy. Father and the Ladies\' Aid used to do it, too, till they\nfound I always came back all right.\"\n\n\"But I didn\'t even know you\'d went,\" cried Nancy, tucking the little\ngirl\'s hand under her arm and hurrying her down the hill. \"I didn\'t see\nyou go, and nobody didn\'t. I guess you flew right up through the roof; I\ndo, I do.\"\n\nPollyanna skipped gleefully.\n\n\"I did, \'most--only I flew down instead of up. I came down the tree.\"\n\nNancy stopped short.\n\n\"You did--what?\"\n\n\"Came down the tree, outside my window.\"\n\n\"My stars and stockings!\" gasped Nancy, hurrying on again. \"I\'d like ter\nknow what yer aunt would say ter that!\"\n\n\"Would you? Well, I\'ll tell her, then, so you can find out,\" promised\nthe little girl, cheerfully.\n\n\"Mercy!\" gasped Nancy. \"No--no!\"\n\n\"Why, you don\'t mean she\'d CARE!\" cried Pollyanna, plainly disturbed.\n\n\"No--er--yes--well, never mind. I--I ain\'t so very particular about\nknowin\' what she\'d say, truly,\" stammered Nancy, determined to keep one\nscolding from Pollyanna, if nothing more. \"But, say, we better hurry.\nI\'ve got ter get them dishes done, ye know.\"\n\n\"I\'ll help,\" promised Pollyanna, promptly.\n\n\"Oh, Miss Pollyanna!\" demurred Nancy.\n\nFor a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna\ntook a firmer hold of her friend\'s arm.\n\n\"I reckon I\'m glad, after all, that you DID get scared--a little, \'cause\nthen you came after me,\" she shivered.\n\n\"Poor little lamb! And you must be hungry, too. I--I\'m afraid you\'ll\nhave ter have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Yer aunt didn\'t\nlike it--because you didn\'t come down ter supper, ye know.\"\n\n\"But I couldn\'t. I was up here.\"\n\n\"Yes; but--she didn\'t know that, you see!\" observed Nancy, dryly,\nstifling a chuckle. \"I\'m sorry about the bread and milk; I am, I am.\"\n\n\"Oh, I\'m not. I\'m glad.\"\n\n\"Glad! Why?\"\n\n\"Why, I like bread and milk, and I\'d like to eat with you. I don\'t see\nany trouble about being glad about that.\"\n\n\"You don\'t seem ter see any trouble bein\' glad about everythin\',\"\nretorted Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna\'s\nbrave attempts to like the bare little attic room.\n\nPollyanna laughed softly.\n\n\"Well, that\'s the game, you know, anyway.\"\n\n\"The--GAME?\"\n\n\"Yes; the \'just being glad\' game.\"\n\n\"Whatever in the world are you talkin\' about?\"\n\n\"Why, it\'s a game. Father told it to me, and it\'s lovely,\" rejoined\nPollyanna. \"We\'ve played it always, ever since I was a little, little\ngirl. I told the Ladies\' Aid, and they played it--some of them.\"\n\n\"What is it? I ain\'t much on games, though.\"\n\nPollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering\ntwilight her face looked thin and wistful.\n\n\"Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel.\"\n\n\"CRUTCHES!\"\n\n\"Yes. You see I\'d wanted a doll, and father had written them so; but\nwhen the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn\'t any dolls come in,\nbut the little crutches had. So she sent \'em along as they might come in\nhandy for some child, sometime. And that\'s when we began it.\"\n\n\"Well, I must say I can\'t see any game about that, about that,\" declared\nNancy, almost irritably.\n\n\"Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be\nglad about--no matter what \'twas,\" rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. \"And\nwe began right then--on the crutches.\"\n\n\"Well, goodness me! I can\'t see anythin\' ter be glad about--gettin\' a\npair of crutches when you wanted a doll!\"\n\nPollyanna clapped her hands.\n\n\"There is--there is,\" she crowed. \"But _I_ couldn\'t see it, either,\nNancy, at first,\" she added, with quick honesty. \"Father had to tell it\nto me.\"\n\n\"Well, then, suppose YOU tell ME,\" almost snapped Nancy.\n\n\"Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don\'t--NEED--\'EM!\" exulted\nPollyanna, triumphantly. \"You see it\'s just as easy--when you know how!\"\n\n\"Well, of all the queer doin\'s!\" breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna\nwith almost fearful eyes.\n\n\"Oh, but it isn\'t queer--it\'s lovely,\" maintained Pollyanna\nenthusiastically. \"And we\'ve played it ever since. And the harder \'tis,\nthe more fun \'tis to get \'em out; only--only sometimes it\'s almost too\nhard--like when your father goes to Heaven, and there isn\'t anybody but\na Ladies\' Aid left.\"\n\n\"Yes, or when you\'re put in a snippy little room \'way at the top of the\nhouse with nothin\' in it,\" growled Nancy.\n\nPollyanna sighed.\n\n\"That was a hard one, at first,\" she admitted, \"specially when I was so\nkind of lonesome. I just didn\'t feel like playing the game, anyway, and\nI HAD been wanting pretty things, so! Then I happened to think how I\nhated to see my freckles in the looking-glass, and I saw that lovely\npicture out the window, too; so then I knew I\'d found the things to be\nglad about. You see, when you\'re hunting for the glad things, you sort\nof forget the other kind--like the doll you wanted, you know.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.\n\n\"Most generally it doesn\'t take so long,\" sighed Pollyanna; \"and lots of\ntimes now I just think of them WITHOUT thinking, you know. I\'ve got so\nused to playing it. It\'s a lovely game. F-father and I used to like it\nso much,\" she faltered. \"I suppose, though, it--it\'ll be a little harder\nnow, as long as I haven\'t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will\nplay it, though,\" she added, as an after-thought.\n\n\"My stars and stockings!--HER!\" breathed Nancy, behind her teeth. Then,\naloud, she said doggedly: \"See here, Miss Pollyanna, I ain\'t sayin\' that\nI\'ll play it very well, and I ain\'t sayin\' that I know how, anyway; but\nI\'ll play it with ye, after a fashion--I just will, I will!\"\n\n\"Oh, Nancy!\" exulted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. \"That\'ll be\nsplendid! Won\'t we have fun?\"\n\n\"Er--maybe,\" conceded Nancy, in open doubt. \"But you mustn\'t count too\nmuch on me, ye know. I never was no case fur games, but I\'m a-goin\' ter\nmake a most awful old try on this one. You\'re goin\' ter have some one\nter play it with, anyhow,\" she finished, as they entered the kitchen\ntogether.\n\nPollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite; then, at Nancy\'s\nsuggestion, she went into the sitting room, where her aunt sat reading.\nMiss Polly looked up coldly.\n\n\"Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?\"\n\n\"Yes, Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"I\'m very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you\ninto the kitchen to eat bread and milk.\"\n\n\"But I was real glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and\nNancy, too. You mustn\'t feel bad about that one bit.\"\n\nAunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair.\n\n\"Pollyanna, it\'s quite time you were in bed. You have had a hard day,\nand to-morrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see\nwhat it is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Be\ncareful how you handle it. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. See\nthat you are down to that. Good-night.\"\n\nQuite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt\'s side\nand gave her an affectionate hug.\n\n\"I\'ve had such a beautiful time, so far,\" she sighed happily. \"I know\nI\'m going to just love living with you but then, I knew I should before\nI came. Good-night,\" she called cheerfully, as she ran from the room.\n\n\"Well, upon my soul!\" ejaculated Miss Polly, half aloud. \"What a most\nextraordinary child!\" Then she frowned. \"She\'s \'glad\' I punished her,\nand I \'mustn\'t feel bad one bit,\' and she\'s going to \'love to live\' with\nme! Well, upon my soul!\" ejaculated Miss Polly again, as she took up her\nbook.\n\nFifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed\ninto the tightly-clutched sheet:\n\n\"I know, father-among-the-angels, I\'m not playing the game one bit\nnow--not one bit; but I don\'t believe even you could find anything to be\nglad about sleeping all alone \'way off up here in the dark--like this.\nIf only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies\' Aider, it\nwould be easier!\"\n\nDown-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work,\njabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily:\n\n\"If playin\' a silly-fool game--about bein\' glad you\'ve got crutches\nwhen you want dolls--is got ter be--my way--o\' bein\' that rock o\'\nrefuge--why, I\'m a-goin\' ter play it--I am, I am!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. A QUESTION OF DUTY\n\nIt was nearly seven o\'clock when Pollyanna awoke that first day after\nher arrival. Her windows faced the south and the west, so she could not\nsee the sun yet; but she could see the hazy blue of the morning sky, and\nshe knew that the day promised to be a fair one.\n\nThe little room was cooler now, and the air blew in fresh and sweet.\nOutside, the birds were twittering joyously, and Pollyanna flew to the\nwindow to talk to them. She saw then that down in the garden her aunt\nwas already out among the rosebushes. With rapid fingers, therefore, she\nmade herself ready to join her.\n\nDown the attic stairs sped Pollyanna, leaving both doors wide open.\nThrough the hall, down the next flight, then bang through the front\nscreened-door and around to the garden, she ran.\n\nAunt Polly, with the bent old man, was leaning over a rose-bush when\nPollyanna, gurgling with delight, flung herself upon her.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I reckon I am glad this morning just to be\nalive!\"\n\n\"PollyANNA!\" remonstrated the lady, sternly, pulling herself as erect\nas she could with a dragging weight of ninety pounds hanging about her\nneck. \"Is this the usual way you say good morning?\"\n\nThe little girl dropped to her toes, and danced lightly up and down.\n\n\"No, only when I love folks so I just can\'t help it! I saw you from\nmy window, Aunt Polly, and I got to thinking how you WEREN\'T a Ladies\'\nAider, and you were my really truly aunt; and you looked so good I just\nhad to come down and hug you!\"\n\nThe bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss Polly attempted a\nfrown--with not her usual success.\n\n\"Pollyanna, you--I Thomas, that will do for this morning. I think you\nunderstand--about those rose-bushes,\" she said stiffly. Then she turned\nand walked rapidly away.\n\n\"Do you always work in the garden, Mr.--Man?\" asked Pollyanna,\ninterestedly.\n\nThe man turned. His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as\nif with tears.\n\n\"Yes, Miss. I\'m Old Tom, the gardener,\" he answered. Timidly, but as if\nimpelled by an irresistible force, he reached out a shaking hand and let\nit rest for a moment on her bright hair. \"You are so like your mother,\nlittle Miss! I used ter know her when she was even littler than you be.\nYou see, I used ter work in the garden--then.\"\n\nPollyanna caught her breath audibly.\n\n\"You did? And you knew my mother, really--when she was just a little\nearth angel, and not a Heaven one? Oh, please tell me about her!\" And\ndown plumped Pollyanna in the middle of the dirt path by the old man\'s\nside.\n\nA bell sounded from the house. The next moment Nancy was seen flying out\nthe back door.\n\n\"Miss Pollyanna, that bell means breakfast--mornin\'s,\" she panted,\npulling the little girl to her feet and hurrying her back to the house;\n\"and other times it means other meals. But it always means that\nyou\'re ter run like time when ye hear it, no matter where ye be. If ye\ndon\'t--well, it\'ll take somethin\' smarter\'n we be ter find ANYTHIN\' ter\nbe glad about in that!\" she finished, shooing Pollyanna into the house\nas she would shoo an unruly chicken into a coop.\n\nBreakfast, for the first five minutes, was a silent meal; then Miss\nPolly, her disapproving eyes following the airy wings of two flies\ndarting here and there over the table, said sternly:\n\n\"Nancy, where did those flies come from?\"\n\n\"I don\'t know, ma\'am. There wasn\'t one in the kitchen.\" Nancy had been\ntoo excited to notice Pollyanna\'s up-flung windows the afternoon before.\n\n\"I reckon maybe they\'re my flies, Aunt Polly,\" observed Pollyanna,\namiably. \"There were lots of them this morning having a beautiful time\nupstairs.\"\n\nNancy left the room precipitately, though to do so she had to carry out\nthe hot muffins she had just brought in.\n\n\"Yours!\" gasped Miss Polly. \"What do you mean? Where did they come\nfrom?\"\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, they came from out of doors of course, through the\nwindows. I SAW some of them come in.\"\n\n\"You saw them! You mean you raised those windows without any screens?\"\n\n\"Why, yes. There weren\'t any screens there, Aunt Polly.\"\n\nNancy, at this moment, came in again with the muffins. Her face was\ngrave, but very red.\n\n\"Nancy,\" directed her mistress, sharply, \"you may set the muffins down\nand go at once to Miss Pollyanna\'s room and shut the windows. Shut the\ndoors, also. Later, when your morning work is done, go through every\nroom with the spatter. See that you make a thorough search.\"\n\nTo her niece she said:\n\n\"Pollyanna, I have ordered screens for those windows. I knew, of course,\nthat it was my duty to do that. But it seems to me that you have quite\nforgotten YOUR duty.\"\n\n\"My--duty?\" Pollyanna\'s eyes were wide with wonder.\n\n\"Certainly. I know it is warm, but I consider it your duty to keep your\nwindows closed till those screens come. Flies, Pollyanna, are not only\nunclean and annoying, but very dangerous to health. After breakfast I\nwill give you a little pamphlet on this matter to read.\"\n\n\"To read? Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. I love to read!\"\n\nMiss Polly drew in her breath audibly, then she shut her lips together\nhard. Pollyanna, seeing her stern face, frowned a little thoughtfully.\n\n\"Of course I\'m sorry about the duty I forgot, Aunt Polly,\" she\napologized timidly. \"I won\'t raise the windows again.\"\n\nHer aunt made no reply. She did not speak, indeed, until the meal was\nover. Then she rose, went to the bookcase in the sitting room, took out\na small paper booklet, and crossed the room to her niece\'s side.\n\n\"This is the article I spoke of, Pollyanna. I desire you to go to your\nroom at once and read it. I will be up in half an hour to look over your\nthings.\"\n\nPollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly\'s head, many times\nmagnified, cried joyously:\n\n\"Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly!\" The next moment she skipped merrily from\nthe room, banging the door behind her.\n\nMiss Polly frowned, hesitated, then crossed the room majestically and\nopened the door; but Pollyanna was already out of sight, clattering up\nthe attic stairs.\n\nHalf an hour later when Miss Polly, her face expressing stern duty in\nevery line, climbed those stairs and entered Pollyanna\'s room, she was\ngreeted with a burst of eager enthusiasm.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, I never saw anything so perfectly lovely and\ninteresting in my life. I\'m so glad you gave me that book to read! Why,\nI didn\'t suppose flies could carry such a lot of things on their feet,\nand--\"\n\n\"That will do,\" observed Aunt Polly, with dignity. \"Pollyanna, you may\nbring out your clothes now, and I will look them over. What are not\nsuitable for you I shall give to the Sullivans, of course.\"\n\nWith visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned\ntoward the closet.\n\n\"I\'m afraid you\'ll think they\'re worse than the Ladies\' Aid did--and\nTHEY said they were shameful,\" she sighed. \"But there were mostly things\nfor boys and older folks in the last two or three barrels; and--did you\never have a missionary barrel, Aunt Polly?\"\n\nAt her aunt\'s look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at\nonce.\n\n\"Why, no, of course you didn\'t, Aunt Polly!\" she hurried on, with a\nhot blush. \"I forgot; rich folks never have to have them. But you see\nsometimes I kind of forget that you are rich--up here in this room, you\nknow.\"\n\nMiss Polly\'s lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna,\nplainly unaware that she had said anything in the least unpleasant, was\nhurrying on.\n\n\"Well, as I was going to say, you can\'t tell a thing about missionary\nbarrels--except that you won\'t find in \'em what you think you\'re going\nto--even when you think you won\'t. It was the barrels every time, too,\nthat were hardest to play the game on, for father and--\"\n\nJust in time Pollyanna remembered that she was not to talk of her father\nto her aunt. She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out\nall the poor little dresses in both her arms.\n\n\"They aren\'t nice, at all,\" she choked, \"and they\'d been black if it\nhadn\'t been for the red carpet for the church; but they\'re all I\'ve\ngot.\"\n\nWith the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate\ngarments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna. Next she bestowed\nfrowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers.\n\n\"I\'ve got the best ones on,\" confessed Pollyanna, anxiously. \"The\nLadies\' Aid bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs.\nJones--she\'s the president--told \'em I should have that if they had to\nclatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days. But they\nwon\'t. Mr. White doesn\'t like the noise. He\'s got nerves, his wife says;\nbut he\'s got money, too, and they expect he\'ll give a lot toward the\ncarpet--on account of the nerves, you know. I should think he\'d be glad\nthat if he did have the nerves he\'d got money, too; shouldn\'t you?\"\n\nMiss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments\nfinished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly.\n\n\"You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath--I mean, I was taught at home some,\ntoo.\"\n\nMiss Polly frowned.\n\n\"Very good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course. Mr.\nHall, the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong.\nMeanwhile, I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an hour each\nday.\"\n\n\"I love to read; but if you don\'t want to hear me I\'d be just glad to\nread to myself--truly, Aunt Polly. And I wouldn\'t have to half try to be\nglad, either, for I like best to read to myself--on account of the big\nwords, you know.\"\n\n\"I don\'t doubt it,\" rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. \"Have you studied\nmusic?\"\n\n\"Not much. I don\'t like my music--I like other people\'s, though.\nI learned to play on the piano a little. Miss Gray--she plays for\nchurch--she taught me. But I\'d just as soon let that go as not, Aunt\nPolly. I\'d rather, truly.\"\n\n\"Very likely,\" observed Aunt Polly, with slightly uplifted eyebrows.\n\"Nevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are properly\ninstructed in at least the rudiments of music. You sew, of course.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am.\" Pollyanna sighed. \"The Ladies\' Aid taught me that. But I\nhad an awful time. Mrs. Jones didn\'t believe in holding your needle\nlike the rest of \'em did on buttonholing, and Mrs. White thought\nbackstitching ought to be taught you before hemming (or else the other\nway), and Mrs. Harriman didn\'t believe in putting you on patchwork ever,\nat all.\"\n\n\"Well, there will be no difficulty of that kind any longer, Pollyanna. I\nshall teach you sewing myself, of course. You do not know how to cook, I\npresume.\"\n\nPollyanna laughed suddenly.\n\n\"They were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I hadn\'t\ngot far. They were more divided up on that than they were on the sewing.\nThey were GOING to begin on bread; but there wasn\'t two of \'em that made\nit alike, so after arguing it all one sewing-meeting, they decided to\ntake turns at me one forenoon a week--in their own kitchens, you know.\nI\'d only learned chocolate fudge and fig cake, though, when--when I had\nto stop.\" Her voice broke.\n\n\"Chocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed!\" scorned Miss Polly. \"I think\nwe can remedy that very soon.\" She paused in thought for a minute, then\nwent on slowly: \"At nine o\'clock every morning you will read aloud one\nhalf-hour to me. Before that you will use the time to put this room in\norder. Wednesday and Saturday forenoons, after half-past nine, you will\nspend with Nancy in the kitchen, learning to cook. Other mornings you\nwill sew with me. That will leave the afternoons for your music. I\nshall, of course, procure a teacher at once for you,\" she finished\ndecisively, as she arose from her chair.\n\nPollyanna cried out in dismay.\n\n\"Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven\'t left me any time at all\njust to--to live.\"\n\n\"To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren\'t living all the\ntime!\"\n\n\"Oh, of course I\'d be BREATHING all the time I was doing those things,\nAunt Polly, but I wouldn\'t be living. You breathe all the time you\'re\nasleep, but you aren\'t living. I mean living--doing the things you want\nto do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills,\ntalking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about\nthe houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the\nperfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That\'s what I call\nliving, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn\'t living!\"\n\nMiss Polly lifted her head irritably.\n\n\"Pollyanna, you ARE the most extraordinary child! You will be allowed a\nproper amount of playtime, of course. But, surely, it seems to me if\nI am willing to do my duty in seeing that you have proper care and\ninstruction, YOU ought to be willing to do yours by seeing that that\ncare and instruction are not ungratefully wasted.\"\n\nPollyanna looked shocked.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungrateful--to YOU! Why, I LOVE\nYOU--and you aren\'t even a Ladies\' Aider; you\'re an aunt!\"\n\n\"Very well; then see that you don\'t act ungrateful,\" vouchsafed Miss\nPolly, as she turned toward the door.\n\nShe had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called\nafter her:\n\n\"Please, Aunt Polly, you didn\'t tell me which of my things you wanted\nto--to give away.\"\n\nAunt Polly emitted a tired sigh--a sigh that ascended straight to\nPollyanna\'s ears.\n\n\"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pollyanna. Timothy will drive us into town\nat half-past one this afternoon. Not one of your garments is fit for my\nniece to wear. Certainly I should be very far from doing my duty by you\nif I should let you appear out in any one of them.\"\n\nPollyanna sighed now--she believed she was going to hate that\nword--duty.\n\n\"Aunt Polly, please,\" she called wistfully, \"isn\'t there ANY way you can\nbe glad about all that--duty business?\"\n\n\"What?\" Miss Polly looked up in dazed surprise; then, suddenly, with\nvery red cheeks, she turned and swept angrily down the stairs. \"Don\'t be\nimpertinent, Pollyanna!\"\n\nIn the hot little attic room Pollyanna dropped herself on to one of the\nstraight-backed chairs. To her, existence loomed ahead one endless round\nof duty.\n\n\"I don\'t see, really, what there was impertinent about that,\" she\nsighed. \"I was only asking her if she couldn\'t tell me something to be\nglad about in all that duty business.\"\n\nFor several minutes Pollyanna sat in silence, her rueful eyes fixed\non the forlorn heap of garments on the bed. Then, slowly, she rose and\nbegan to put away the dresses.\n\n\"There just isn\'t anything to be glad about, that I can see,\" she said\naloud; \"unless--it\'s to be glad when the duty\'s done!\" Whereupon she\nlaughed suddenly.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS\n\nAt half-past one o\'clock Timothy drove Miss Polly and her niece to the\nfour or five principal dry goods stores, which were about half a mile\nfrom the homestead.\n\nFitting Pollyanna with a new wardrobe proved to be more or less of an\nexciting experience for all concerned. Miss Polly came out of it with\nthe feeling of limp relaxation that one might have at finding oneself at\nlast on solid earth after a perilous walk across the very thin crust of\na volcano. The various clerks who had waited upon the pair came out of\nit with very red faces, and enough amusing stories of Pollyanna to\nkeep their friends in gales of laughter the rest of the week. Pollyanna\nherself came out of it with radiant smiles and a heart content; for, as\nshe expressed it to one of the clerks: \"When you haven\'t had anybody\nbut missionary barrels and Ladies\' Aiders to dress you, it IS perfectly\nlovely to just walk right in and buy clothes that are brand-new, and\nthat don\'t have to be tucked up or let down because they don\'t fit!\"\n\nThe shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon; then came supper\nand a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden, and another with Nancy\non the back porch, after the dishes were done, and while Aunt Polly paid\na visit to a neighbor.\n\nOld Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her mother, that made her\nvery happy indeed; and Nancy told her all about the little farm six\nmiles away at \"The Corners,\" where lived her own dear mother, and her\nequally dear brother and sisters. She promised, too, that sometime, if\nMiss Polly were willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them.\n\n\"And THEY\'VE got lovely names, too. You\'ll like THEIR names,\" sighed\nNancy. \"They\'re \'Algernon,\' and \'Florabelle\' and \'Estelle.\' I--I just\nhate \'Nancy\'!\"\n\n\"Oh, Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say! Why?\"\n\n\"Because it isn\'t pretty like the others. You see, I was the first baby,\nand mother hadn\'t begun ter read so many stories with the pretty names\nin \'em, then.\"\n\n\"But I love \'Nancy,\' just because it\'s you,\" declared Pollyanna.\n\n\"Humph! Well, I guess you could love \'Clarissa Mabelle\' just as well,\"\nretorted Nancy, \"and it would be a heap happier for me. I think THAT\nname\'s just grand!\"\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Well, anyhow,\" she chuckled, \"you can be glad it isn\'t \'Hephzibah.\'\"\n\n\"Hephzibah!\"\n\n\"Yes. Mrs. White\'s name is that. Her husband calls her \'Hep,\' and she\ndoesn\'t like it. She says when he calls out \'Hep--Hep!\' she feels just\nas if the next minute he was going to yell \'Hurrah!\' And she doesn\'t\nlike to be hurrahed at.\"\n\nNancy\'s gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile.\n\n\"Well, if you don\'t beat the Dutch! Say, do you know?--I sha\'n\'t never\nhear \'Nancy\' now that I don\'t think o\' that \'Hep--Hep!\' and giggle. My,\nI guess I AM glad--\" She stopped short and turned amazed eyes on the\nlittle girl. \"Say, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean--was you playin\' that\n\'ere game THEN--about my bein\' glad I wa\'n\'t named Hephzibah\'?\"\n\nPollyanna frowned; then she laughed.\n\n\"Why, Nancy, that\'s so! I WAS playing the game--but that\'s one of the\ntimes I just did it without thinking, I reckon. You see, you DO, lots\nof times; you get so used to it--looking for something to be glad about,\nyou know. And most generally there is something about everything that\nyou can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.\"\n\n\"Well, m-maybe,\" granted Nancy, with open doubt.\n\n\nAt half-past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. The screens had not yet\ncome, and the close little room was like an oven. With longing eyes\nPollyanna looked at the two fast-closed windows--but she did not raise\nthem. She undressed, folded her clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew\nout her candle and climbed into bed.\n\nJust how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from side to side of\nthe hot little cot, she did not know; but it seemed to her that it must\nhave been hours before she finally slipped out of bed, felt her way\nacross the room and opened her door.\n\nOut in the main attic all was velvet blackness save where the moon flung\na path of silver half-way across the floor from the east dormer window.\nWith a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness to the right and to\nthe left, Pollyanna drew a quick breath and pattered straight into that\nsilvery path, and on to the window.\n\nShe had hoped, vaguely, that this window might have a screen, but it did\nnot. Outside, however, there was a wide world of fairy-like beauty, and\nthere was, too, she knew, fresh, sweet air that would feel so good to\nhot cheeks and hands!\n\nAs she stepped nearer and peered longingly out, she saw something else:\nshe saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat tin roof of\nMiss Polly\'s sun parlor built over the porte-cochere. The sight filled\nher with longing. If only, now, she were out there!\n\nFearfully she looked behind her. Back there, somewhere, were her hot\nlittle room and her still hotter bed; but between her and them lay a\nhorrid desert of blackness across which one must feel one\'s way with\noutstretched, shrinking arms; while before her, out on the sun-parlor\nroof, were the moonlight and the cool, sweet night air.\n\nIf only her bed were out there! And folks did sleep out of doors. Joel\nHartley at home, who was so sick with the consumption, HAD to sleep out\nof doors.\n\nSuddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window\na row of long white bags hanging from nails. Nancy had said that\nthey contained the winter clothing, put away for the summer. A little\nfearfully now, Pollyanna felt her way to these bags, selected a nice\nfat soft one (it contained Miss Polly\'s sealskin coat) for a bed; and a\nthinner one to be doubled up for a pillow, and still another (which was\nso thin it seemed almost empty) for a covering. Thus equipped, Pollyanna\nin high glee pattered to the moonlit window again, raised the sash,\nstuffed her burden through to the roof below, then let herself down\nafter it, closing the window carefully behind her--Pollyanna had not\nforgotten those flies with the marvellous feet that carried things.\n\nHow deliciously cool it was! Pollyanna quite danced up and down with\ndelight, drawing in long, full breaths of the refreshing air. The tin\nroof under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna\nrather liked. She walked, indeed, two or three times back and forth from\nend to end--it gave her such a pleasant sensation of airy space after\nher hot little room; and the roof was so broad and flat that she had no\nfear of falling off. Finally, with a sigh of content, she curled herself\nup on the sealskin-coat mattress, arranged one bag for a pillow and the\nother for a covering, and settled herself to sleep.\n\n\"I\'m so glad now that the screens didn\'t come,\" she murmured, blinking\nup at the stars; \"else I couldn\'t have had this!\"\n\nDown-stairs in Miss Polly\'s room next the sun parlor, Miss Polly\nherself was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and\nfrightened. A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice\nto Timothy:\n\n\"Come up quick!--you and your father. Bring lanterns. Somebody is on\nthe roof of the sun parlor. He must have climbed up the rose-trellis\nor somewhere, and of course he can get right into the house through the\neast window in the attic. I have locked the attic door down here--but\nhurry, quick!\"\n\nSome time later, Pollyanna, just dropping off to sleep, was startled by\na lantern flash, and a trio of amazed ejaculations. She opened her eyes\nto find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom just getting\nthrough the window, and her aunt peering out at her from behind him.\n\n\"Pollyanna, what does this mean?\" cried Aunt Polly then.\n\nPollyanna blinked sleepy eyes and sat up.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Tom--Aunt Polly!\" she stammered. \"Don\'t look so scared! It\nisn\'t that I\'ve got the consumption, you know, like Joel Hartley. It\'s\nonly that I was so hot--in there. But I shut the window, Aunt Polly, so\nthe flies couldn\'t carry those germ-things in.\"\n\nTimothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. Old Tom, with almost equal\nprecipitation, handed his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son.\nMiss Polly bit her lip hard--until the men were gone; then she said\nsternly:\n\n\"Pollyanna, hand those things to me at once and come in here. Of all\nthe extraordinary children!\" she ejaculated a little later, as, with\nPollyanna by her side, and the lantern in her hand, she turned back into\nthe attic.\n\nTo Pollyanna the air was all the more stifling after that cool breath\nof the out of doors; but she did not complain. She only drew a long\nquivering sigh.\n\nAt the top of the stairs Miss Polly jerked out crisply:\n\n\"For the rest of the night, Pollyanna, you are to sleep in my bed with\nme. The screens will be here to-morrow, but until then I consider it my\nduty to keep you where I know where you are.\"\n\nPollyanna drew in her breath.\n\n\"With you?--in your bed?\" she cried rapturously. \"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt\nPolly, how perfectly lovely of you! And when I\'ve so wanted to sleep\nwith some one sometime--some one that belonged to me, you know; not a\nLadies\' Aider. I\'ve HAD them. My! I reckon I am glad now those screens\ndidn\'t come! Wouldn\'t you be?\"\n\nThere was no reply. Miss Polly was stalking on ahead. Miss Polly, to\ntell the truth, was feeling curiously helpless. For the third time since\nPollyanna\'s arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Pollyanna--and for the\nthird time she was being confronted with the amazing fact that her\npunishment was being taken as a special reward of merit. No wonder Miss\nPolly was feeling curiously helpless.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT\n\nIt was not long before life at the Harrington homestead settled into\nsomething like order--though not exactly the order that Miss Polly had\nat first prescribed. Pollyanna sewed, practised, read aloud, and studied\ncooking in the kitchen, it is true; but she did not give to any of these\nthings quite so much time as had first been planned. She had more time,\nalso, to \"just live,\" as she expressed it, for almost all of every\nafternoon from two until six o\'clock was hers to do with as she\nliked--provided she did not \"like\" to do certain things already\nprohibited by Aunt Polly.\n\nIt is a question, perhaps, whether all this leisure time was given to\nthe child as a relief to Pollyanna from work--or as a relief to Aunt\nPolly from Pollyanna. Certainly, as those first July days passed, Miss\nPolly found occasion many times to ejaculate \"What an extraordinary\nchild!\" and certainly the reading and sewing lessons found her at their\nconclusion each day somewhat dazed and wholly exhausted.\n\nNancy, in the kitchen, fared better. She was not dazed nor exhausted.\nWednesdays and Saturdays came to be, indeed, red-letter days to her.\n\nThere were no children in the immediate neighborhood of the Harrington\nhomestead for Pollyanna to play with. The house itself was on the\noutskirts of the village, and though there were other houses not far\naway, they did not chance to contain any boys or girls near Pollyanna\'s\nage. This, however, did not seem to disturb Pollyanna in the least.\n\n\"Oh, no, I don\'t mind it at all,\" she explained to Nancy. \"I\'m happy\njust to walk around and see the streets and the houses and watch the\npeople. I just love people. Don\'t you, Nancy?\"\n\n\"Well, I can\'t say I do--all of \'em,\" retorted Nancy, tersely.\n\nAlmost every pleasant afternoon found Pollyanna begging for \"an errand\nto run,\" so that she might be off for a walk in one direction or\nanother; and it was on these walks that frequently she met the Man. To\nherself Pollyanna always called him \"the Man,\" no matter if she met a\ndozen other men the same day.\n\nThe Man often wore a long black coat and a high silk hat--two things\nthat the \"just men\" never wore. His face was clean shaven and rather\npale, and his hair, showing below his hat, was somewhat gray. He walked\nerect, and rather rapidly, and he was always alone, which made Pollyanna\nvaguely sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that she one day\nspoke to him.\n\n\"How do you do, sir? Isn\'t this a nice day?\" she called cheerily, as she\napproached him.\n\nThe man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly.\n\n\"Did you speak--to me?\" he asked in a sharp voice.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" beamed Pollyanna. \"I say, it\'s a nice day, isn\'t it?\"\n\n\"Eh? Oh! Humph!\" he grunted; and strode on again.\n\nPollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought.\n\nThe next day she saw him again.\n\n\"\'Tisn\'t quite so nice as yesterday, but it\'s pretty nice,\" she called\nout cheerfully.\n\n\"Eh? Oh! Humph!\" grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna\nlaughed happily.\n\nWhen for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner,\nthe man stopped abruptly.\n\n\"See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every\nday?\"\n\n\"I\'m Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I\'m so glad\nyou stopped. Now we\'re introduced--only I don\'t know your name yet.\"\n\n\"Well, of all the--\" The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on\nfaster than ever.\n\nPollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually\nsmiling lips.\n\n\"Maybe he didn\'t understand--but that was only half an introduction. I\ndon\'t know HIS name, yet,\" she murmured, as she proceeded on her way.\n\nPollyanna was carrying calf\'s-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow to-day. Miss Polly\nHarrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said she\nthought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and\na member of her church--it was the duty of all the church members\nto look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow\nusually on Thursday afternoons--not personally, but through Nancy.\nTo-day Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given\nit to her in accordance with Miss Polly\'s orders.\n\n\"And it\'s glad that I am ter get rid of it,\" Nancy had declared in\nprivate afterwards to Pollyanna; \"though it\'s a shame ter be tuckin\' the\njob off on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!\"\n\n\"But I\'d love to do it, Nancy.\"\n\n\"Well, you won\'t--after you\'ve done it once,\" predicted Nancy, sourly.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because nobody does. If folks wa\'n\'t sorry for her there wouldn\'t a\nsoul go near her from mornin\' till night, she\'s that cantankerous. All\nis, I pity her daughter what HAS ter take care of her.\"\n\n\"But, why, Nancy?\"\n\nNancy shrugged her shoulders.\n\n\"Well, in plain words, it\'s just that nothin\' what ever has happened,\nhas happened right in Mis\' Snow\'s eyes. Even the days of the week ain\'t\nrun ter her mind. If it\'s Monday she\'s bound ter say she wished \'twas\nSunday; and if you take her jelly you\'re pretty sure ter hear she wanted\nchicken--but if you DID bring her chicken, she\'d be jest hankerin\' for\nlamb broth!\"\n\n\"Why, what a funny woman,\" laughed Pollyanna. \"I think I shall like\nto go to see her. She must be so surprising and--and different. I love\nDIFFERENT folks.\"\n\n\"Humph! Well, Mis\' Snow\'s \'different,\' all right--I hope, for the sake\nof the rest of us!\" Nancy had finished grimly.\n\nPollyanna was thinking of these remarks to-day as she turned in at\nthe gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling,\nindeed, at the prospect of meeting this \"different\" Mrs. Snow.\n\nA pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door.\n\n\"How do you do?\" began Pollyanna politely. \"I\'m from Miss Polly\nHarrington, and I\'d like to see Mrs. Snow, please.\"\n\n\"Well, if you would, you\'re the first one that ever \'liked\' to see her,\"\nmuttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. The\ngirl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door at\nthe end of it.\n\nIn the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door,\nPollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to the\ngloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half-sitting up in the bed\nacross the room. Pollyanna advanced at once.\n\n\"How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are comfortable\nto-day, and she\'s sent you some calf\'s-foot jelly.\"\n\n\"Dear me! Jelly?\" murmured a fretful voice. \"Of course I\'m very much\nobliged, but I was hoping \'twould be lamb broth to-day.\"\n\nPollyanna frowned a little.\n\n\"Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks brought you jelly,\"\nshe said.\n\n\"What?\" The sick woman turned sharply.\n\n\"Why, nothing, much,\" apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly; \"and of course\nit doesn\'t really make any difference. It\'s only that Nancy said it was\nchicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and lamb broth when we brought\nchicken--but maybe \'twas the other way, and Nancy forgot.\"\n\nThe sick woman pulled herself up till she sat erect in the bed--a most\nunusual thing for her to do, though Pollyanna did not know this.\n\n\"Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?\" she demanded.\n\nPollyanna laughed gleefully.\n\n\"Oh, THAT isn\'t my name, Mrs. Snow--and I\'m so glad \'tisn\'t, too! That\nwould be worse than \'Hephzibah,\' wouldn\'t it? I\'m Pollyanna Whittier,\nMiss Polly Harrington\'s niece, and I\'ve come to live with her. That\'s\nwhy I\'m here with the jelly this morning.\"\n\nAll through the first part of this sentence, the sick woman had sat\ninterestedly erect; but at the reference to the jelly she fell back on\nher pillow listlessly.\n\n\"Very well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but my\nappetite isn\'t very good this morning, and I was wanting lamb--\" She\nstopped suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of subject. \"I\nnever slept a wink last night--not a wink!\"\n\n\"O dear, I wish _I_ didn\'t,\" sighed Pollyanna, placing the jelly on the\nlittle stand and seating herself comfortably in the nearest chair. \"You\nlose such a lot of time just sleeping! Don\'t you think so?\"\n\n\"Lose time--sleeping!\" exclaimed the sick woman.\n\n\"Yes, when you might be just living, you know. It seems such a pity we\ncan\'t live nights, too.\"\n\nOnce again the woman pulled herself erect in her bed.\n\n\"Well, if you ain\'t the amazing young one!\" she cried. \"Here! do you go\nto that window and pull up the curtain,\" she directed. \"I should like to\nknow what you look like!\"\n\nPollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a little ruefully.\n\n\"O dear! then you\'ll see my freckles, won\'t you?\" she sighed, as she\nwent to the window; \"--and just when I was being so glad it was dark and\nyou couldn\'t see \'em. There! Now you can--oh!\" she broke off excitedly,\nas she turned back to the bed; \"I\'m so glad you wanted to see me,\nbecause now I can see you! They didn\'t tell me you were so pretty!\"\n\n\"Me!--pretty!\" scoffed the woman, bitterly.\n\n\"Why, yes. Didn\'t you know it?\" cried Pollyanna.\n\n\"Well, no, I didn\'t,\" retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived\nforty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy\nwishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they\nwere.\n\n\"Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hair\'s all dark, too,\nand curly,\" cooed Pollyanna. \"I love black curls. (That\'s one of the\nthings I\'m going to have when I get to Heaven.) And you\'ve got two\nlittle red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! I\nshould think you\'d know it when you looked at yourself in the glass.\"\n\n\"The glass!\" snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. \"Yes,\nwell, I hain\'t done much prinkin\' before the mirror these days--and you\nwouldn\'t, if you was flat on your back as I am!\"\n\n\"Why, no, of course not,\" agreed Pollyanna, sympathetically. \"But\nwait--just let me show you,\" she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau\nand picking up a small hand-glass.\n\nOn the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a\ncritical gaze.\n\n\"I reckon maybe, if you don\'t mind, I\'d like to fix your hair just a\nlittle before I let you see it,\" she proposed. \"May I fix your hair,\nplease?\"\n\n\"Why, I--suppose so, if you want to,\" permitted Mrs. Snow, grudgingly;\n\"but \'twon\'t stay, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you. I love to fix people\'s hair,\" exulted Pollyanna,\ncarefully laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. \"I sha\'n\'t\ndo much to-day, of course--I\'m in such a hurry for you to see how pretty\nyou are; but some day I\'m going to take it all down and have a perfectly\nlovely time with it,\" she cried, touching with soft fingers the waving\nhair above the sick woman\'s forehead.\n\nFor five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory\ncurl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or\nshaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better\npose. Meanwhile the sick woman, frowning prodigiously, and openly\nscoffing at the whole procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning to\ntingle with a feeling perilously near to excitement.\n\n\"There!\" panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase near by\nand tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect.\n\"Now I reckon we\'re ready to be looked at!\" And she held out the mirror\nin triumph.\n\n\"Humph!\" grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. \"I like\nred pinks better than pink ones; but then, it\'ll fade, anyhow, before\nnight, so what\'s the difference!\"\n\n\"But I should think you\'d be glad they did fade,\" laughed Pollyanna,\n\"\'cause then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love your\nhair fluffed out like that,\" she finished with a satisfied gaze. \"Don\'t\nyou?\"\n\n\"Hm-m; maybe. Still--\'twon\'t last, with me tossing back and forth on the\npillow as I do.\"\n\n\"Of course not--and I\'m glad, too,\" nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully,\n\"because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think you\'d be glad\nit\'s black--black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair\nlike mine does.\"\n\n\"Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair--shows gray too\nsoon,\" retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held the\nmirror before her face.\n\n\"Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it,\" sighed\nPollyanna.\n\nMrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.\n\n\"Well, you wouldn\'t!--not if you were me. You wouldn\'t be glad for black\nhair nor anything else--if you had to lie here all day as I do!\"\n\nPollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.\n\n\"Why, \'twould be kind of hard--to do it then, wouldn\'t it?\" she mused\naloud.\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"Be glad about things.\"\n\n\"Be glad about things--when you\'re sick in bed all your days? Well, I\nshould say it would,\" retorted Mrs. Snow. \"If you don\'t think so, just\ntell me something to be glad about; that\'s all!\"\n\nTo Mrs. Snow\'s unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and\nclapped her hands.\n\n\"Oh, goody! That\'ll be a hard one--won\'t it? I\'ve got to go, now, but\nI\'ll think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come\nI can tell it to you. Good-by. I\'ve had a lovely time! Good-by,\" she\ncalled again, as she tripped through the doorway.\n\n\"Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that?\" ejaculated Mrs. Snow,\nstaring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head and picked up\nthe mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.\n\n\"That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake,\" she\nmuttered under her breath. \"I declare, I didn\'t know it could look so\npretty. But then, what\'s the use?\" she sighed, dropping the little glass\ninto the bedclothes, and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully.\n\nA little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow\'s daughter, came in, the mirror\nstill lay among the bedclothes--thought it had been carefully hidden from sight.\n\n\"Why, mother--the curtain is up!\" cried Milly, dividing her amazed stare\nbetween the window and the pink in her mother\'s hair.\n\n\"Well, what if it is?\" snapped the sick woman. \"I needn\'t stay in the\ndark all my life, if I am sick, need I?\"\n\n\"Why, n-no, of course not,\" rejoined Milly, in hasty conciliation, as\nshe reached for the medicine bottle. \"It\'s only--well, you know very\nwell that I\'ve tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and you\nwouldn\'t.\"\n\nThere was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her\nnightgown. At last she spoke fretfully.\n\n\"I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress--instead of lamb\nbroth, for a change!\"\n\n\"Why--mother!\"\n\nNo wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawer\nbehind her at that moment lay two new nightdresses that Milly for months\nhad been vainly urging her mother to wear.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN\n\nIt rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however,\nwith a bright smile.\n\n\"It isn\'t so nice to-day, is it?\" she called blithesomely. \"I\'m glad it\ndoesn\'t rain always, anyhow!\"\n\nThe man did not even grunt this time, nor turn his head. Pollyanna\ndecided that of course he did not hear her. The next time, therefore\n(which happened to be the following day), she spoke up louder. She\nthought it particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the Man\nwas striding along, his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the\nground--which seemed, to Pollyanna, preposterous in the face of the\nglorious sunshine and the freshly-washed morning air: Pollyanna, as a\nspecial treat, was on a morning errand to-day.\n\n\"How do you do?\" she chirped. \"I\'m so glad it isn\'t yesterday, aren\'t\nyou?\"\n\nThe man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face.\n\n\"See here, little girl, we might just as well settle this thing right\nnow, once for all,\" he began testily. \"I\'ve got something besides\nthe weather to think of. I don\'t know whether the sun shines or not.\"\nPollyanna beamed joyously.\n\n\"No, sir; I thought you didn\'t. That\'s why I told you.\"\n\n\"Yes; well--Eh? What?\" he broke off sharply, in sudden understanding of\nher words.\n\n\"I say, that\'s why I told you--so you would notice it, you know--that\nthe sun shines, and all that. I knew you\'d be glad it did if you\nonly stopped to think of it--and you didn\'t look a bit as if you WERE\nthinking of it!\"\n\n\"Well, of all the--\" ejaculated the man, with an oddly impotent gesture.\nHe started forward again, but after the second step he turned back,\nstill frowning.\n\n\"See here, why don\'t you find some one your own age to talk to?\"\n\n\"I\'d like to, sir, but there aren\'t any \'round here, Nancy says. Still,\nI don\'t mind so very much. I like old folks just as well, maybe better,\nsometimes--being used to the Ladies\' Aid, so.\"\n\n\"Humph! The Ladies\' Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for?\" The\nman\'s lips were threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was still\ntrying to hold them grimly stern.\n\nPollyanna laughed gleefully.\n\n\"Oh, no, sir. You don\'t look a mite like a Ladies\' Aider--not but that\nyou\'re just as good, of course--maybe better,\" she added in hurried\npoliteness. \"You see, I\'m sure you\'re much nicer than you look!\"\n\nThe man made a queer noise in his throat.\n\n\"Well, of all the--\" he ejaculated again, as he turned and strode on as\nbefore.\n\nThe next time Pollyanna met the Man, his eyes were gazing straight\ninto hers, with a quizzical directness that made his face look really\npleasant, Pollyanna thought.\n\n\"Good afternoon,\" he greeted her a little stiffly. \"Perhaps I\'d better\nsay right away that I KNOW the sun is shining to-day.\"\n\n\"But you don\'t have to tell me,\" nodded Pollyanna, brightly. \"I KNEW you\nknew it just as soon as I saw you.\"\n\n\"Oh, you did, did you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your smile.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" grunted the man, as he passed on.\n\nThe Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke\nfirst, though usually he said little but \"good afternoon.\" Even that,\nhowever, was a great surprise to Nancy, who chanced to be with Pollyanna\none day when the greeting was given.\n\n\"Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna,\" she gasped, \"did that man SPEAK TO YOU?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, he always does--now,\" smiled Pollyanna.\n\n\"\'He always does\'! Goodness! Do you know who--he--is?\" demanded Nancy.\n\nPollyanna frowned and shook her head.\n\n\"I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my part of the\nintroducing, but he didn\'t.\"\n\nNancy\'s eyes widened.\n\n\"But he never speaks ter anybody, child--he hain\'t for years, I guess,\nexcept when he just has to, for business, and all that. He\'s John\nPendleton. He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendleton Hill.\nHe won\'t even have any one \'round ter cook for him--comes down ter the\nhotel for his meals three times a day. I know Sally Miner, who waits on\nhim, and she says he hardly opens his head enough ter tell what he\nwants ter eat. She has ter guess it more\'n half the time--only it\'ll be\nsomethin\' CHEAP! She knows that without no tellin\'.\"\n\nPollyanna nodded sympathetically.\n\n\"I know. You have to look for cheap things when you\'re poor. Father and\nI took meals out a lot. We had beans and fish balls most generally.\nWe used to say how glad we were we liked beans--that is, we said it\nspecially when we were looking at the roast turkey place, you know, that\nwas sixty cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans?\"\n\n\"Like \'em! What if he does--or don\'t? Why, Miss Pollyanna, he ain\'t\npoor. He\'s got loads of money, John Pendleton has--from his father.\nThere ain\'t nobody in town as rich as he is. He could eat dollar bills,\nif he wanted to--and not know it.\"\n\nPollyanna giggled.\n\n\"As if anybody COULD eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they\ncome to try to chew \'em!\"\n\n\"Ho! I mean he\'s rich enough ter do it,\" shrugged Nancy. \"He ain\'t\nspendin\' his money, that\'s all. He\'s a-savin\' of it.\"\n\n\"Oh, for the heathen,\" surmised Pollyanna. \"How perfectly splendid!\nThat\'s denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know; father told\nme.\"\n\nNancy\'s lips parted abruptly, as if there were angry words all ready to\ncome; but her eyes, resting on Pollyanna\'s jubilantly trustful face, saw\nsomething that prevented the words being spoken.\n\n\"Humph!\" she vouchsafed. Then, showing her old-time interest, she\nwent on: \"But, say, it is queer, his speakin\' to you, honestly, Miss\nPollyanna. He don\'t speak ter no one; and he lives all alone in a great\nbig lovely house all full of jest grand things, they say. Some says he\'s\ncrazy, and some jest cross; and some says he\'s got a skeleton in his\ncloset.\"\n\n\"Oh, Nancy!\" shuddered Pollyanna. \"How can he keep such a dreadful\nthing? I should think he\'d throw it away!\"\n\nNancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the skeleton literally instead\nof figuratively, she knew very well; but, perversely, she refrained from\ncorrecting the mistake.\n\n\"And EVERYBODY says he\'s mysterious,\" she went on. \"Some years he\njest travels, week in and week out, and it\'s always in heathen\ncountries--Egypt and Asia and the Desert of Sarah, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, a missionary,\" nodded Pollyanna.\n\nNancy laughed oddly.\n\n\"Well, I didn\'t say that, Miss Pollyanna. When he comes back he writes\nbooks--queer, odd books, they say, about some gimcrack he\'s found in\nthem heathen countries. But he don\'t never seem ter want ter spend no\nmoney here--leastways, not for jest livin\'.\"\n\n\"Of course not--if he\'s saving it for the heathen,\" declared Pollyanna.\n\"But he is a funny man, and he\'s different, too, just like Mrs. Snow,\nonly he\'s a different different.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess he is--rather,\" chuckled Nancy.\n\n\"I\'m gladder\'n ever now, anyhow, that he speaks to me,\" sighed Pollyanna\ncontentedly.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW\n\nThe next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as\nat first, in a darkened room.\n\n\"It\'s the little girl from Miss Polly\'s, mother,\" announced Milly, in a\ntired manner; then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid.\n\n\"Oh, it\'s you, is it?\" asked a fretful voice from the bed. \"I remember\nyou. ANYbody\'d remember you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you\nhad come yesterday. I WANTED you yesterday.\"\n\n\"Did you? Well, I\'m glad \'tisn\'t any farther away from yesterday than\nto-day is, then,\" laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room,\nand setting her basket carefully down on a chair. \"My! but aren\'t you\ndark here, though? I can\'t see you a bit,\" she cried, unhesitatingly\ncrossing to the window and pulling up the shade. \"I want to see if\nyou\'ve fixed your hair like I did--oh, you haven\'t! But, never mind; I\'m\nglad you haven\'t, after all, \'cause maybe you\'ll let me do it--later.\nBut now I want you to see what I\'ve brought you.\"\n\nThe woman stirred restlessly.\n\n\"Just as if how it looks would make any difference in how it tastes,\"\nshe scoffed--but she turned her eyes toward the basket. \"Well, what is\nit?\"\n\n\"Guess! What do you want?\" Pollyanna had skipped back to the basket. Her\nface was alight. The sick woman frowned.\n\n\"Why, I don\'t WANT anything, as I know of,\" she sighed. \"After all, they\nall taste alike!\"\n\nPollyanna chuckled.\n\n\"This won\'t. Guess! If you DID want something, what would it be?\"\n\nThe woman hesitated. She did not realize it herself, but she had so long\nbeen accustomed to wanting what she did not have, that to state off-hand\nwhat she DID want seemed impossible--until she knew what she had.\nObviously, however, she must say something. This extraordinary child was\nwaiting.\n\n\"Well, of course, there\'s lamb broth--\"\n\n\"I\'ve got it!\" crowed Pollyanna.\n\n\"But that\'s what I DIDN\'T want,\" sighed the sick woman, sure now of what\nher stomach craved. \"It was chicken I wanted.\"\n\n\"Oh, I\'ve got that, too,\" chuckled Pollyanna.\n\nThe woman turned in amazement.\n\n\"Both of them?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Yes--and calf\'s-foot jelly,\" triumphed Pollyanna. \"I was just bound you\nshould have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. Oh, of\ncourse, there\'s only a little of each--but there\'s some of all of \'em!\nI\'m so glad you did want chicken,\" she went on contentedly, as she\nlifted the three little bowls from her basket. \"You see, I got to\nthinking on the way here--what if you should say tripe, or onions,\nor something like that, that I didn\'t have! Wouldn\'t it have been a\nshame--when I\'d tried so hard?\" she laughed merrily.\n\nThere was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying--mentally to find\nsomething she had lost.\n\n\"There! I\'m to leave them all,\" announced Pollyanna, as she arranged the\nthree bowls in a row on the table. \"Like enough it\'ll be lamb broth you\nwant to-morrow. How do you do to-day?\" she finished in polite inquiry.\n\n\"Very poorly, thank you,\" murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into her\nusual listless attitude. \"I lost my nap this morning. Nellie Higgins\nnext door has begun music lessons, and her practising drives me nearly\nwild. She was at it all the morning--every minute! I\'m sure, I don\'t\nknow what I shall do!\"\n\nPolly nodded sympathetically.\n\n\"I know. It IS awful! Mrs. White had it once--one of my Ladies\' Aiders,\nyou know. She had rheumatic fever, too, at the same time, so she\ncouldn\'t thrash \'round. She said \'twould have been easier if she could\nhave. Can you?\"\n\n\"Can I--what?\"\n\n\"Thrash \'round--move, you know, so as to change your position when the\nmusic gets too hard to stand.\"\n\nMrs. Snow stared a little.\n\n\"Why, of course I can move--anywhere--in bed,\" she rejoined a little\nirritably.\n\n\"Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow, can\'t you?\" nodded\nPollyanna. \"Mrs. White couldn\'t. You can\'t thrash when you have\nrheumatic fever--though you want to something awful, Mrs. White says.\nShe told me afterwards she reckoned she\'d have gone raving crazy if it\nhadn\'t been for Mr. White\'s sister\'s ears--being deaf, so.\"\n\n\"Sister\'s--EARS! What do you mean?\"\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Well, I reckon I didn\'t tell it all, and I forgot you didn\'t know Mrs.\nWhite. You see, Miss White was deaf--awfully deaf; and she came to visit\n\'em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the house. Well, they had\nsuch an awful time making her understand ANYTHING, that after that,\nevery time the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. White\nfelt so glad she COULD hear it, that she didn\'t mind so much that she\nDID hear it, \'cause she couldn\'t help thinking how awful \'twould be if\nshe was deaf and couldn\'t hear anything, like her husband\'s sister. You\nsee, she was playing the game, too. I\'d told her about it.\"\n\n\"The--game?\"\n\nPollyanna clapped her hands.\n\n\"There! I \'most forgot; but I\'ve thought it up, Mrs. Snow--what you can\nbe glad about.\"\n\n\"GLAD about! What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why, I told you I would. Don\'t you remember? You asked me to tell you\nsomething to be glad about--glad, you know, even though you did have to\nlie here abed all day.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" scoffed the woman. \"THAT? Yes, I remember that; but I didn\'t\nsuppose you were in earnest any more than I was.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I was,\" nodded Pollyanna, triumphantly; \"and I found it, too.\nBut \'TWAS hard. It\'s all the more fun, though, always, when \'tis hard.\nAnd I will own up, honest to true, that I couldn\'t think of anything for\na while. Then I got it.\"\n\n\"Did you, really? Well, what is it?\" Mrs. Snow\'s voice was sarcastically\npolite.\n\nPollyanna drew a long breath.\n\n\"I thought--how glad you could be--that other folks weren\'t like\nyou--all sick in bed like this, you know,\" she announced impressively.\nMrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry.\n\n\"Well, really!\" she ejaculated then, in not quite an agreeable tone of\nvoice.\n\n\"And now I\'ll tell you the game,\" proposed Pollyanna, blithely\nconfident. \"It\'ll be just lovely for you to play--it\'ll be so hard. And\nthere\'s so much more fun when it is hard! You see, it\'s like this.\" And\nshe began to tell of the missionary barrel, the crutches, and the doll\nthat did not come.\n\nThe story was just finished when Milly appeared at the door.\n\n\"Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna,\" she said with dreary\nlistlessness. \"She telephoned down to the Harlows\' across the way. She\nsays you\'re to hurry--that you\'ve got some practising to make up before\ndark.\"\n\nPollyanna rose reluctantly.\n\n\"All right,\" she sighed. \"I\'ll hurry.\" Suddenly she laughed. \"I suppose\nI ought to be glad I\'ve got legs to hurry with, hadn\'t I, Mrs. Snow?\"\n\nThere was no answer. Mrs. Snow\'s eyes were closed. But Milly, whose eyes\nwere wide open with surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted\ncheeks.\n\n\"Good-by,\" flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, as she reached the door.\n\"I\'m awfully sorry about the hair--I wanted to do it. But maybe I can\nnext time!\"\n\n\nOne by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days,\nindeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy they were.\nWhereupon her aunt would usually reply, wearily:\n\n\"Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are happy;\nbut I trust that they are profitable, as well--otherwise I should have\nfailed signally in my duty.\"\n\nGenerally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss--a\nproceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly; but\none day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour.\n\n\"Do you mean that it wouldn\'t be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they\nshould be just happy days?\" she asked wistfully.\n\n\"That is what I mean, Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"They must be pro-fi-ta-ble as well?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"What is being pro-fi-ta-ble?\"\n\n\"Why, it--it\'s just being profitable--having profit, something to show\nfor it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are!\"\n\n\"Then just being glad isn\'t pro-fi-ta-ble?\" questioned Pollyanna, a\nlittle anxiously.\n\n\"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"O dear! Then you wouldn\'t like it, of course. I\'m afraid, now, you\nwon\'t ever play the game, Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"Game? What game?\"\n\n\"Why, that father--\" Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips.\n\"N-nothing,\" she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.\n\n\"That will do for this morning, Pollyanna,\" she said tersely. And the\nsewing lesson was over.\n\nIt was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room,\nmet her aunt on the stairway.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely!\" she cried. \"You were coming up\nto see me! Come right in. I love company,\" she finished, scampering up\nthe stairs and throwing her door wide open.\n\nNow Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She had been\nplanning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near\nthe east window. But to her unbounded surprise now, she found herself,\nnot in the main attic before the cedar chest, but in Pollyanna\'s little\nroom sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs--so many, many times\nsince Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some\nutterly unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set\nout to do!\n\n\"I love company,\" said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she were\ndispensing the hospitality of a palace; \"specially since I\'ve had this\nroom, all mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a room, always, but \'twas\na hired room, and hired rooms aren\'t half as nice as owned ones, are\nthey? And of course I do own this one, don\'t I?\"\n\n\"Why, y-yes, Pollyanna,\" murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she\ndid not get up at once and go to look for that shawl.\n\n\"And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasn\'t got the\ncarpets and curtains and pictures that I\'d been want--\" With a painful\nblush Pollyanna stopped short. She was plunging into an entirely\ndifferent sentence when her aunt interrupted her sharply.\n\n\"What\'s that, Pollyanna?\"\n\n\"N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didn\'t mean to say it.\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" returned Miss Polly, coldly; \"but you did say it, so\nsuppose we have the rest of it.\"\n\n\"But it wasn\'t anything only that I\'d been kind of planning on pretty\ncarpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But, of course--\"\n\n\"PLANNING on them!\" interrupted Miss Polly, sharply.\n\nPollyanna blushed still more painfully.\n\n\"I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,\" she apologized. \"It was\nonly because I\'d always wanted them and hadn\'t had them, I suppose. Oh,\nwe\'d had two rugs in the barrels, but they were little, you know, and\none had ink spots, and the other holes; and there never were only those\ntwo pictures; the one fath--I mean the good one we sold, and the bad one\nthat broke. Of course if it hadn\'t been for all that I shouldn\'t have\nwanted them, so--pretty things, I mean; and I shouldn\'t have got to\nplanning all through the hall that first day how pretty mine would be\nhere, and--and--but, truly, Aunt Polly, it wasn\'t but just a minute--I\nmean, a few minutes--before I was being glad that the bureau DIDN\'T have\na looking-glass, because it didn\'t show my freckles; and there couldn\'t\nbe a nicer picture than the one out my window there; and you\'ve been so\ngood to me, that--\"\n\nMiss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red.\n\n\"That will do, Pollyanna,\" she said stiffly.\n\n\"You have said quite enough, I\'m sure.\" The next minute she had swept\ndown the stairs--and not until she reached the first floor did it\nsuddenly occur to her that she had gone up into the attic to find a\nwhite wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window.\n\nLess than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy, crisply:\n\n\"Nancy, you may move Miss Pollyanna\'s things down-stairs this morning to\nthe room directly beneath. I have decided to have my niece sleep there\nfor the present.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma\'am,\" said Nancy aloud.\n\n\"O glory!\" said Nancy to herself.\n\nTo Pollyanna, a minute later, she cried joyously:\n\n\"And won\'t ye jest be listenin\' ter this, Miss Pollyanna. You\'re ter\nsleep down-stairs in the room straight under this. You are--you are!\"\n\nPollyanna actually grew white.\n\n\"You mean--why, Nancy, not really--really and truly?\"\n\n\"I guess you\'ll think it\'s really and truly,\" prophesied Nancy,\nexultingly, nodding her head to Pollyanna over the armful of dresses she\nhad taken from the closet. \"I\'m told ter take down yer things, and I\'m\ngoin\' ter take \'em, too, \'fore she gets a chance ter change her mind.\"\n\nPollyanna did not stop to hear the end of this sentence. At the imminent\nrisk of being dashed headlong, she was flying down-stairs, two steps at\na time.\n\nBang went two doors and a chair before Pollyanna at last reached her\ngoal--Aunt Polly.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, did you mean it, really? Why, that room\'s\ngot EVERYTHING--the carpet and curtains and three pictures, besides\nthe one outdoors, too, \'cause the windows look the same way. Oh, Aunt\nPolly!\"\n\n\"Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified that you like the change, of\ncourse; but if you think so much of all those things, I trust you will\ntake proper care of them; that\'s all. Pollyanna, please pick up that\nchair; and you have banged two doors in the last half-minute.\" Miss\nPolly spoke sternly, all the more sternly because, for some inexplicable\nreason, she felt inclined to cry--and Miss Polly was not used to feeling\ninclined to cry.\n\nPollyanna picked up the chair.\n\n\"Yes\'m; I know I banged \'em--those doors,\" she admitted cheerfully. \"You\nsee I\'d just found out about the room, and I reckon you\'d have banged\ndoors if--\" Pollyanna stopped short and eyed her aunt with new interest.\n\"Aunt Polly, DID you ever bang doors?\"\n\n\"I hope--not, Pollyanna!\" Miss Polly\'s voice was properly shocked.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame!\" Pollyanna\'s face expressed only\nconcerned sympathy.\n\n\"A shame!\" repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to say more.\n\n\"Why, yes. You see, if you\'d felt like banging doors you\'d have banged\n\'em, of course; and if you didn\'t, that must have meant that you weren\'t\never glad over anything--or you would have banged \'em. You couldn\'t have\nhelped it. And I\'m so sorry you weren\'t ever glad over anything!\"\n\n\"PollyANna!\" gasped the lady; but Pollyanna was gone, and only the\ndistant bang of the attic-stairway door answered for her. Pollyanna had\ngone to help Nancy bring down \"her things.\"\n\nMiss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed;--but then, of\ncourse she HAD been glad--over some things!\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY\n\nAugust came. August brought several surprises and some changes--none\nof which, however, were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since\nPollyanna\'s arrival, had come to look for surprises and changes.\n\nFirst there was the kitten.\n\nPollyanna found the kitten mewing pitifully some distance down the road.\nWhen systematic questioning of the neighbors failed to find any one who\nclaimed it, Pollyanna brought it home at once, as a matter of course.\n\n\"And I was glad I didn\'t find any one who owned it, too,\" she told her\naunt in happy confidence; \"\'cause I wanted to bring it home all the\ntime. I love kitties. I knew you\'d be glad to let it live here.\"\n\nMiss Polly looked at the forlorn little gray bunch of neglected misery\nin Pollyanna\'s arms, and shivered: Miss Polly did not care for cats--not\neven pretty, healthy, clean ones.\n\n\"Ugh! Pollyanna! What a dirty little beast! And it\'s sick, I\'m sure, and\nall mangy and fleay.\"\n\n\"I know it, poor little thing,\" crooned Pollyanna, tenderly, looking\ninto the little creature\'s frightened eyes. \"And it\'s all trembly, too,\nit\'s so scared. You see it doesn\'t know, yet, that we\'re going to keep\nit, of course.\"\n\n\"No--nor anybody else,\" retorted Miss Polly, with meaning emphasis.\n\n\"Oh, yes, they do,\" nodded Pollyanna, entirely misunderstanding her\naunt\'s words. \"I told everybody we should keep it, if I didn\'t find\nwhere it belonged. I knew you\'d be glad to have it--poor little lonesome\nthing!\"\n\nMiss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak; but in vain. The curious\nhelpless feeling that had been hers so often since Pollyanna\'s arrival,\nhad her now fast in its grip.\n\n\"Of course I knew,\" hurried on Pollyanna, gratefully, \"that you wouldn\'t\nlet a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you\'d just\ntaken ME in; and I said so to Mrs. Ford when she asked if you\'d let me\nkeep it. Why, I had the Ladies\' Aid, you know, and kitty didn\'t have\nanybody. I knew you\'d feel that way,\" she nodded happily, as she ran\nfrom the room.\n\n\"But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,\" remonstrated Miss Polly. \"I don\'t--\" But\nPollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling:\n\n\"Nancy, Nancy, just see this dear little kitty that Aunt Polly is going\nto bring up along with me!\" And Aunt Polly, in the sitting room--who\nabhorred cats--fell back in her chair with a gasp of dismay, powerless\nto remonstrate.\n\nThe next day it was a dog, even dirtier and more forlorn, perhaps, than\nwas the kitten; and again Miss Polly, to her dumfounded amazement, found\nherself figuring as a kind protector and an angel of mercy--a role that\nPollyanna so unhesitatingly thrust upon her as a matter of course,\nthat the woman--who abhorred dogs even more than she did cats, if\npossible--found herself as before, powerless to remonstrate.\n\nWhen, in less than a week, however, Pollyanna brought home a small,\nragged boy, and confidently claimed the same protection for him, Miss\nPolly did have something to say. It happened after this wise.\n\nOn a pleasant Thursday morning Pollyanna had been taking calf\'s-foot\njelly again to Mrs. Snow. Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best of\nfriends now. Their friendship had started from the third visit Pollyanna\nhad made, the one after she had told Mrs. Snow of the game. Mrs. Snow\nherself was playing the game now, with Pollyanna. To be sure, she was\nnot playing it very well--she had been sorry for everything for so long,\nthat it was not easy to be glad for anything now. But under Pollyanna\'s\ncheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning\nfast. To-day, even, to Pollyanna\'s huge delight, she had said that she\nwas glad Pollyanna brought calf\'s-foot jelly, because that was just what\nshe had been wanting--she did not know that Milly, at the front door,\nhad told Pollyanna that the minister\'s wife had already that day sent\nover a great bowlful of that same kind of jelly.\n\nPollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy.\n\nThe boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside,\nwhittling half-heartedly at a small stick.\n\n\"Hullo,\" smiled Pollyanna, engagingly.\n\nThe boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once.\n\n\"Hullo yourself,\" he mumbled.\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Now you don\'t look as if you\'d be glad even for calf\'s-foot jelly,\" she\nchuckled, stopping before him.\n\nThe boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began to\nwhittle again at his stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his\nhand.\n\nPollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass\nnear him. In spite of Pollyanna\'s brave assertion that she was \"used\nto Ladies\' Aiders,\" and \"didn\'t mind,\" she had sighed at times for some\ncompanion of her own age. Hence her determination to make the most of\nthis one.\n\n\"My name\'s Pollyanna Whittier,\" she began pleasantly. \"What\'s yours?\"\n\nAgain the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he\nsettled back.\n\n\"Jimmy Bean,\" he grunted with ungracious indifference.\n\n\"Good! Now we\'re introduced. I\'m glad you did your part--some folks\ndon\'t, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington\'s house. Where do you\nlive?\"\n\n\"Nowhere.\"\n\n\"Nowhere! Why, you can\'t do that--everybody lives somewhere,\" asserted\nPollyanna.\n\n\"Well, I don\'t--just now. I\'m huntin\' up a new place.\"\n\n\"Oh! Where is it?\"\n\nThe boy regarded her with scornful eyes.\n\n\"Silly! As if I\'d be a-huntin\' for it--if I knew!\"\n\nPollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and she\ndid not like to be called \"silly.\" Still, he was somebody besides--old\nfolks. \"Where did you live--before?\" she queried.\n\n\"Well, if you ain\'t the beat\'em for askin\' questions!\" sighed the boy\nimpatiently.\n\n\"I have to be,\" retorted Pollyanna calmly, \"else I couldn\'t find out a\nthing about you. If you\'d talk more I wouldn\'t talk so much.\"\n\nThe boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a\nwilling one; but his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this\ntime.\n\n\"All right then--here goes! I\'m Jimmy Bean, and I\'m ten years old goin\'\non eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans\' Home; but they\'ve\ngot so many kids there ain\'t much room for me, an\' I wa\'n\'t never\nwanted, anyhow, I don\'t believe. So I\'ve quit. I\'m goin\' ter live\nsomewheres else--but I hain\'t found the place, yet. I\'d LIKE a\nhome--jest a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of\na Matron. If ye has a home, ye has folks; an\' I hain\'t had folks\nsince--dad died. So I\'m a-huntin\' now. I\'ve tried four houses, but--they\ndidn\'t want me--though I said I expected ter work, \'course. There! Is\nthat all you want ter know?\" The boy\'s voice had broken a little over\nthe last two sentences.\n\n\"Why, what a shame!\" sympathized Pollyanna. \"And didn\'t there anybody\nwant you? O dear! I know just how you feel, because after--after my\nfather died, too, there wasn\'t anybody but the Ladies\' Aid for me, until\nAunt Polly said she\'d take--\" Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of\na wonderful idea began to show in her face.\n\n\"Oh, I know just the place for you,\" she cried. \"Aunt Polly\'ll take\nyou--I know she will! Didn\'t she take me? And didn\'t she take Fluffy\nand Buffy, when they didn\'t have any one to love them, or any place to\ngo?--and they\'re only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly\'ll take\nyou! You don\'t know how good and kind she is!\"\n\nJimmy Bean\'s thin little face brightened.\n\n\"Honest Injun? Would she, now? I\'d work, ye know, an\' I\'m real strong!\"\nHe bared a small, bony arm.\n\n\"Of course she would! Why, my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the\nworld--now that my mama has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there\'s\nrooms--heaps of \'em,\" she continued, springing to her feet, and tugging\nat his arm. \"It\'s an awful big house. Maybe, though,\" she added a little\nanxiously, as they hurried on, \"maybe you\'ll have to sleep in the attic\nroom. I did, at first. But there\'s screens there now, so \'twon\'t be so\nhot, and the flies can\'t get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on\ntheir feet. Did you know about that? It\'s perfectly lovely! Maybe she\'ll\nlet you read the book if you\'re good--I mean, if you\'re bad. And you\'ve\ngot freckles, too,\"--with a critical glance--\"so you\'ll be glad there\nisn\'t any looking-glass; and the outdoor picture is nicer than any\nwall-one could be, so you won\'t mind sleeping in that room at all, I\'m\nsure,\" panted Pollyanna, finding suddenly that she needed the rest of\nher breath for purposes other than talking.\n\n\"Gorry!\" exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and uncomprehendingly, but\nadmiringly. Then he added: \"I shouldn\'t think anybody who could talk\nlike that, runnin\', would need ter ask no questions ter fill up time\nwith!\"\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,\" she retorted; \"for when I\'m\ntalking, YOU don\'t have to!\"\n\n\nWhen the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her\ncompanion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly,\" she triumphed, \"just look a-here! I\'ve got something\never so much nicer, even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up.\nIt\'s a real live boy. He won\'t mind a bit sleeping in the attic, at\nfirst, you know, and he says he\'ll work; but I shall need him the most\nof the time to play with, I reckon.\"\n\nMiss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand; but\nshe thought she understood enough.\n\n\"Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did\nyou find him?\" she demanded sharply.\n\nThe \"dirty little boy\" fell back a step and looked toward the door.\nPollyanna laughed merrily.\n\n\"There, if I didn\'t forget to tell you his name! I\'m as bad as the Man.\nAnd he is dirty, too, isn\'t he?--I mean, the boy is--just like Fluffy\nand Buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon he\'ll improve all\nright by washing, just as they did, and--Oh, I \'most forgot again,\" she\nbroke off with a laugh. \"This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"Well, what is he doing here?\"\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!\" Pollyanna\'s eyes were wide with\nsurprise. \"He\'s for you. I brought him home--so he could live here, you\nknow. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me,\nand to Fluffy and Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, because of\ncourse he\'s even nicer than cats and dogs.\"\n\nMiss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her\nthroat. The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her.\nWith a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly\nerect.\n\n\"That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the most absurd thing you\'ve\ndone yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren\'t bad enough but you\nmust needs bring home ragged little beggars from the street, who--\"\n\nThere was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and his chin came\nup. With two strides of his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly\nfearlessly.\n\n\"I ain\'t a beggar, marm, an\' I don\'t want nothin\' o\' you. I was\ncal\'latin\' ter work, of course, fur my board an\' keep. I wouldn\'t have\ncome ter your old house, anyhow, if this \'ere girl hadn\'t \'a\' made me,\na-tellin\' me how you was so good an\' kind that you\'d be jest dyin\' ter\ntake me in. So, there!\" And he wheeled about and stalked from the room\nwith a dignity that would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly,\" choked Pollyanna. \"Why, I thought you\'d be GLAD to\nhave him here! I\'m sure, I should think you\'d be glad--\"\n\nMiss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence. Miss\nPolly\'s nerves had snapped at last. The \"good and kind\" of the boy\'s\nwords were still ringing in her ears, and the old helplessness was\nalmost upon her, she knew. Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom\nof her will power.\n\n\"Pollyanna,\" she cried sharply, \"WILL you stop using that everlasting\nword \'glad\'! It\'s \'glad\'--\'glad\'--\'glad\' from morning till night until I\nthink I shall grow wild!\"\n\nFrom sheer amazement Pollyanna\'s jaw dropped.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly,\" she breathed, \"I should think you\'d be glad to have\nme gl--Oh!\" she broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying\nblindly from the room.\n\nBefore the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook\nhim.\n\n\"Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how--how sorry I am,\" she\npanted, catching him with a detaining hand.\n\n\"Sorry nothin\'! I ain\'t blamin\' you,\" retorted the boy, sullenly. \"But I\nain\'t no beggar!\" he added, with sudden spirit.\n\n\"Of course you aren\'t! But you mustn\'t blame auntie,\" appealed\nPollyanna. \"Probably I didn\'t do the introducing right, anyhow; and\nI reckon I didn\'t tell her much who you were. She is good and kind,\nreally--she\'s always been; but I probably didn\'t explain it right. I do\nwish I could find some place for you, though!\"\n\nThe boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away.\n\n\"Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain\'t no beggar, you\nknow.\"\n\nPollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face\nillumined.\n\n\"Say, I\'ll tell you what I WILL do! The Ladies\' Aid meets this\nafternoon. I heard Aunt Polly say so. I\'ll lay your case before them.\nThat\'s what father always did, when he wanted anything--educating the\nheathen and new carpets, you know.\"\n\nThe boy turned fiercely.\n\n\"Well, I ain\'t a heathen or a new carpet. Besides--what is a Ladies\'\nAid?\"\n\nPollyanna stared in shocked disapproval.\n\n\"Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?--not to know what a\nLadies\' Aid is!\"\n\n\"Oh, all right--if you ain\'t tellin\',\" grunted the boy, turning and\nbeginning to walk away indifferently.\n\nPollyanna sprang to his side at once.\n\n\"It\'s--it\'s--why, it\'s just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give\nsuppers and raise money and--and talk; that\'s what a Ladies\' Aid is.\nThey\'re awfully kind--that is, most of mine was, back home. I haven\'t\nseen this one here, but they\'re always good, I reckon. I\'m going to tell\nthem about you this afternoon.\"\n\nAgain the boy turned fiercely.\n\n\"Not much you will! Maybe you think I\'m goin\' ter stand \'round an\' hear\na whole LOT o\' women call me a beggar, instead of jest ONE! Not much!\"\n\n\"Oh, but you wouldn\'t be there,\" argued Pollyanna, quickly. \"I\'d go\nalone, of course, and tell them.\"\n\n\"You would?\"\n\n\"Yes; and I\'d tell it better this time,\" hurried on Pollyanna, quick to\nsee the signs of relenting in the boy\'s face. \"And there\'d be some of\n\'em, I know, that would be glad to give you a home.\"\n\n\"I\'d work--don\'t forget ter say that,\" cautioned the boy.\n\n\"Of course not,\" promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point\nwas gained. \"Then I\'ll let you know to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"By the road--where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow\'s house.\"\n\n\"All right. I\'ll be there.\" The boy paused before he went on slowly:\n\"Maybe I\'d better go back, then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see\nI hain\'t no other place ter stay; and--and I didn\'t leave till this\nmornin\'. I slipped out. I didn\'t tell \'em I wasn\'t comin\' back, else\nthey\'d pretend I couldn\'t come--though I\'m thinkin\' they won\'t do no\nworryin\' when I don\'t show up sometime. They ain\'t like FOLKS, ye know.\nThey don\'t CARE!\"\n\n\"I know,\" nodded Pollyanna, with understanding eyes. \"But I\'m sure, when\nI see you to-morrow, I\'ll have just a common home and folks that do care\nall ready for you. Good-by!\" she called brightly, as she turned back\ntoward the house.\n\nIn the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been\nwatching the two children, followed with sombre eyes the boy until a\nbend of the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, turned, and walked\nlistlesly up-stairs--and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In\nher ears still was the boy\'s scornful \"you was so good and kind.\" In her\nheart was a curious sense of desolation--as of something lost.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. BEFORE THE LADIES\' AID\n\nDinner, which came at noon in the Harrington homestead, was a silent\nmeal on the day of the Ladies\' Aid meeting. Pollyanna, it is true, tried\nto talk; but she did not make a success of it, chiefly because four\ntimes she was obliged to break off a \"glad\" in the middle of it, much\nto her blushing discomfort. The fifth time it happened, Miss Polly moved\nher head wearily.\n\n\"There, there, child, say it, if you want to,\" she sighed. \"I\'m sure I\'d\nrather you did than not if it\'s going to make all this fuss.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s puckered little face cleared.\n\n\"Oh, thank you. I\'m afraid it would be pretty hard--not to say it. You\nsee I\'ve played it so long.\"\n\n\"You\'ve--what?\" demanded Aunt Polly.\n\n\"Played it--the game, you know, that father--\" Pollyanna stopped with a\npainful blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden ground.\n\nAunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest of the meal was a silent\none.\n\nPollyanna was not sorry to hear Aunt Polly tell the minister\'s wife over\nthe telephone, a little later, that she would not be at the Ladies\'\nAid meeting that afternoon, owing to a headache. When Aunt Polly went\nup-stairs to her room and closed the door, Pollyanna tried to be sorry\nfor the headache; but she could not help feeling glad that her aunt was\nnot to be present that afternoon when she laid the case of Jimmy Bean\nbefore the Ladies\' Aid. She could not forget that Aunt Polly had called\nJimmy Bean a little beggar; and she did not want Aunt Polly to call him\nthat--before the Ladies\' Aid.\n\nPollyanna knew that the Ladies\' Aid met at two o\'clock in the chapel\nnext the church, not quite half a mile from home. She planned her going,\ntherefore, so that she should get there a little before three.\n\n\"I want them all to be there,\" she said to herself; \"else the very one\nthat wasn\'t there might be the one who would be wanting to give Jimmy\nBean a home; and, of course, two o\'clock always means three, really--to\nLadies\' Aiders.\"\n\nQuietly, but with confident courage, Pollyanna ascended the chapel\nsteps, pushed open the door and entered the vestibule. A soft babel of\nfeminine chatter and laughter came from the main room. Hesitating only a\nbrief moment Pollyanna pushed open one of the inner doors.\n\nThe chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Pollyanna advanced a little\ntimidly. Now that the time had come, she felt unwontedly shy. After all,\nthese half-strange, half-familiar faces about her were not her own dear\nLadies\' Aid.\n\n\"How do you do, Ladies\' Aiders?\" she faltered politely. \"I\'m Pollyanna\nWhittier. I--I reckon some of you know me, maybe; anyway, I do YOU--only\nI don\'t know you all together this way.\"\n\nThe silence could almost be felt now. Some of the ladies did know this\nrather extraordinary niece of their fellow-member, and nearly all had\nheard of her; but not one of them could think of anything to say, just\nthen.\n\n\"I--I\'ve come to--to lay the case before you,\" stammered Pollyanna,\nafter a moment, unconsciously falling into her father\'s familiar\nphraseology.\n\nThere was a slight rustle.\n\n\"Did--did your aunt send you, my dear?\" asked Mrs. Ford, the minister\'s\nwife.\n\nPollyanna colored a little.\n\n\"Oh, no. I came all by myself. You see, I\'m used to Ladies\' Aiders. It\nwas Ladies\' Aiders that brought me up--with father.\"\n\nSomebody tittered hysterically, and the minister\'s wife frowned.\n\n\"Yes, dear. What is it?\"\n\n\"Well, it--it\'s Jimmy Bean,\" sighed Pollyanna. \"He hasn\'t any home\nexcept the Orphan one, and they\'re full, and don\'t want him, anyhow, he\nthinks; so he wants another. He wants one of the common kind, that has\na mother instead of a Matron in it--folks, you know, that\'ll care. He\'s\nten years old going on eleven. I thought some of you might like him--to\nlive with you, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, did you ever!\" murmured a voice, breaking the dazed pause that\nfollowed Pollyanna\'s words.\n\nWith anxious eyes Pollyanna swept the circle of faces about her.\n\n\"Oh, I forgot to say; he will work,\" she supplemented eagerly.\n\nStill there was silence; then, coldly, one or two women began to\nquestion her. After a time they all had the story and began to talk\namong themselves, animatedly, not quite pleasantly.\n\nPollyanna listened with growing anxiety. Some of what was said she could\nnot understand. She did gather, after a time, however, that there was\nno woman there who had a home to give him, though every woman seemed to\nthink that some of the others might take him, as there were several who\nhad no little boys of their own already in their homes. But there was no\none who agreed herself to take him. Then she heard the minister\'s\nwife suggest timidly that they, as a society, might perhaps assume his\nsupport and education instead of sending quite so much money this year\nto the little boys in far-away India.\n\nA great many ladies talked then, and several of them talked all at once,\nand even more loudly and more unpleasantly than before. It seemed that\ntheir society was famous for its offering to Hindu missions, and several\nsaid they should die of mortification if it should be less this year.\nSome of what was said at this time Pollyanna again thought she could not\nhave understood, too, for it sounded almost as if they did not care at\nall what the money DID, so long as the sum opposite the name of their\nsociety in a certain \"report\" \"headed the list\"--and of course that\ncould not be what they meant at all! But it was all very confusing, and\nnot quite pleasant, so that Pollyanna was glad, indeed, when at last she\nfound herself outside in the hushed, sweet air--only she was very sorry,\ntoo: for she knew it was not going to be easy, or anything but sad, to\ntell Jimmy Bean to-morrow that the Ladies\' Aid had decided that they\nwould rather send all their money to bring up the little India boys than\nto save out enough to bring up one little boy in their own town, for\nwhich they would not get \"a bit of credit in the report,\" according to\nthe tall lady who wore spectacles.\n\n\"Not but that it\'s good, of course, to send money to the heathen, and I\nshouldn\'t want \'em not to send SOME there,\" sighed Pollyanna to herself,\nas she trudged sorrowfully along. \"But they acted as if little boys HERE\nweren\'t any account--only little boys \'way off. I should THINK, though,\nthey\'d rather see Jimmy Bean grow--than just a report!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. IN PENDLETON WOODS\n\nPollyanna had not turned her steps toward home, when she left the\nchapel. She had turned them, instead, toward Pendleton Hill. It had\nbeen a hard day, for all it had been a \"vacation one\" (as she termed\nthe infrequent days when there was no sewing or cooking lesson), and\nPollyanna was sure that nothing would do her quite so much good as a\nwalk through the green quiet of Pendleton Woods. Up Pendleton Hill,\ntherefore, she climbed steadily, in spite of the warm sun on her back.\n\n\"I don\'t have to get home till half-past five, anyway,\" she was telling\nherself; \"and it\'ll be so much nicer to go around by the way of the\nwoods, even if I do have to climb to get there.\"\n\nIt was very beautiful in the Pendleton Woods, as Pollyanna knew by\nexperience. But to-day it seemed even more delightful than ever,\nnotwithstanding her disappointment over what she must tell Jimmy Bean\nto-morrow.\n\n\"I wish they were up here--all those ladies who talked so loud,\" sighed\nPollyanna to herself, raising her eyes to the patches of vivid blue\nbetween the sunlit green of the tree-tops. \"Anyhow, if they were up\nhere, I just reckon they\'d change and take Jimmy Bean for their little\nboy, all right,\" she finished, secure in her conviction, but unable to\ngive a reason for it, even to herself.\n\nSuddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked\nsome distance ahead. A moment later he came dashing toward her, still\nbarking.\n\n\"Hullo, doggie--hullo!\" Pollyanna snapped her fingers at the dog and\nlooked expectantly down the path. She had seen the dog once before, she\nwas sure. He had been then with the Man, Mr. John Pendleton. She was\nlooking now, hoping to see him. For some minutes she watched eagerly,\nbut he did not appear. Then she turned her attention toward the dog.\n\nThe dog, as even Pollyanna could see, was acting strangely. He was\nstill barking--giving little short, sharp yelps, as if of alarm. He was\nrunning back and forth, too, in the path ahead. Soon they reached a side\npath, and down this the little dog fairly flew, only to come back at\nonce, whining and barking.\n\n\"Ho! That isn\'t the way home,\" laughed Pollyanna, still keeping to the\nmain path.\n\nThe little dog seemed frantic now. Back and forth, back and forth,\nbetween Pollyanna and the side path he vibrated, barking and whining\npitifully. Every quiver of his little brown body, and every glance from\nhis beseeching brown eyes were eloquent with appeal--so eloquent that at\nlast Pollyanna understood, turned, and followed him.\n\nStraight ahead, now, the little dog dashed madly; and it was not long\nbefore Pollyanna came upon the reason for it all: a man lying motionless\nat the foot of a steep, overhanging mass of rock a few yards from the\nside path.\n\nA twig cracked sharply under Pollyanna\'s foot, and the man turned his\nhead. With a cry of dismay Pollyanna ran to his side.\n\n\"Mr. Pendleton! Oh, are you hurt?\"\n\n\"Hurt? Oh, no! I\'m just taking a siesta in the sunshine,\" snapped the\nman irritably. \"See here, how much do you know? What can you do? Have\nyou got any sense?\"\n\nPollyanna caught her breath with a little gasp, but--as was her\nhabit--she answered the questions literally, one by one.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, I--I don\'t know so very much, and I can\'t do a\ngreat many things; but most of the Ladies\' Aiders, except Mrs. Rawson,\nsaid I had real good sense. I heard \'em say so one day--they didn\'t know\nI heard, though.\"\n\nThe man smiled grimly.\n\n\"There, there, child, I beg your pardon, I\'m sure; it\'s only this\nconfounded leg of mine. Now listen.\" He paused, and with some difficulty\nreached his hand into his trousers pocket and brought out a bunch of\nkeys, singling out one between his thumb and forefinger. \"Straight\nthrough the path there, about five minutes\' walk, is my house. This key\nwill admit you to the side door under the porte-cochere. Do you know\nwhat a porte-cochere is?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir. Auntie has one with a sun parlor over it. That\'s the roof\nI slept on--only I didn\'t sleep, you know. They found me.\"\n\n\"Eh? Oh! Well, when you get into the house, go straight through the\nvestibule and hall to the door at the end. On the big, flat-topped desk\nin the middle of the room you\'ll find a telephone. Do you know how to\nuse a telephone?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir! Why, once when Aunt Polly--\"\n\n\"Never mind Aunt Polly now,\" cut in the man scowlingly, as he tried to\nmove himself a little.\n\n\"Hunt up Dr. Thomas Chilton\'s number on the card you\'ll find somewhere\naround there--it ought to be on the hook down at the side, but it\nprobably won\'t be. You know a telephone card, I suppose, when you see\none!\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir! I just love Aunt Polly\'s. There\'s such a lot of queer\nnames, and--\"\n\n\"Tell Dr. Chilton that John Pendleton is at the foot of Little Eagle\nLedge in Pendleton Woods with a broken leg, and to come at once with a\nstretcher and two men. He\'ll know what to do besides that. Tell him to\ncome by the path from the house.\"\n\n\"A broken leg? Oh, Mr. Pendleton, how perfectly awful!\" shuddered\nPollyanna. \"But I\'m so glad I came! Can\'t _I_ do--\"\n\n\"Yes, you can--but evidently you won\'t! WILL you go and do what I ask\nand stop talking,\" moaned the man, faintly. And, with a little sobbing\ncry, Pollyanna went.\n\nPollyanna did not stop now to look up at the patches of blue between the\nsunlit tops of the trees. She kept her eyes on the ground to make sure\nthat no twig nor stone tripped her hurrying feet.\n\nIt was not long before she came in sight of the house. She had seen it\nbefore, though never so near as this. She was almost frightened now\nat the massiveness of the great pile of gray stone with its pillared\nverandas and its imposing entrance. Pausing only a moment, however, she\nsped across the big neglected lawn and around the house to the side door\nunder the porte-cochere. Her fingers, stiff from their tight clutch upon\nthe keys, were anything but skilful in their efforts to turn the bolt\nin the lock; but at last the heavy, carved door swung slowly back on its\nhinges.\n\nPollyanna caught her breath. In spite of her feeling of haste, she\npaused a moment and looked fearfully through the vestibule to the wide,\nsombre hall beyond, her thoughts in a whirl. This was John Pendleton\'s\nhouse; the house of mystery; the house into which no one but its master\nentered; the house which sheltered, somewhere--a skeleton. Yet she,\nPollyanna, was expected to enter alone these fearsome rooms, and\ntelephone the doctor that the master of the house lay now--\n\nWith a little cry Pollyanna, looking neither to the right nor the left,\nfairly ran through the hall to the door at the end and opened it.\n\nThe room was large, and sombre with dark woods and hangings like the\nhall; but through the west window the sun threw a long shaft of gold\nacross the floor, gleamed dully on the tarnished brass andirons in the\nfireplace, and touched the nickel of the telephone on the great desk in\nthe middle of the room. It was toward this desk that Pollyanna hurriedly\ntiptoed.\n\nThe telephone card was not on its hook; it was on the floor. But\nPollyanna found it, and ran her shaking forefinger down through the C\'s\nto \"Chilton.\" In due time she had Dr. Chilton himself at the other end\nof the wires, and was tremblingly delivering her message and answering\nthe doctor\'s terse, pertinent questions. This done, she hung up the\nreceiver and drew a long breath of relief.\n\nOnly a brief glance did Pollyanna give about her; then, with a confused\nvision in her eyes of crimson draperies, book-lined walls, a littered\nfloor, an untidy desk, innumerable closed doors (any one of which might\nconceal a skeleton), and everywhere dust, dust, dust, she fled back\nthrough the hall to the great carved door, still half open as she had\nleft it.\n\nIn what seemed, even to the injured man, an incredibly short time,\nPollyanna was back in the woods at the man\'s side.\n\n\"Well, what is the trouble? Couldn\'t you get in?\" he demanded.\n\nPollyanna opened wide her eyes.\n\n\"Why, of course I could! I\'m HERE,\" she answered. \"As if I\'d be here\nif I hadn\'t got in! And the doctor will be right up just as soon as\npossible with the men and things. He said he knew just where you were,\nso I didn\'t stay to show him. I wanted to be with you.\"\n\n\"Did you?\" smiled the man, grimly. \"Well, I can\'t say I admire your\ntaste. I should think you might find pleasanter companions.\"\n\n\"Do you mean--because you\'re so--cross?\"\n\n\"Thanks for your frankness. Yes.\"\n\nPollyanna laughed softly.\n\n\"But you\'re only cross OUTSIDE--You arn\'t cross inside a bit!\"\n\n\"Indeed! How do you know that?\" asked the man, trying to change the\nposition of his head without moving the rest of his body.\n\n\"Oh, lots of ways; there--like that--the way you act with the dog,\" she\nadded, pointing to the long, slender hand that rested on the dog\'s sleek\nhead near him. \"It\'s funny how dogs and cats know the insides of folks\nbetter than other folks do, isn\'t it? Say, I\'m going to hold your head,\"\nshe finished abruptly.\n\nThe man winced several times and groaned once; softly while the change\nwas being made; but in the end he found Pollyanna\'s lap a very welcome\nsubstitute for the rocky hollow in which his head had lain before.\n\n\"Well, that is--better,\" he murmured faintly.\n\nHe did not speak again for some time. Pollyanna, watching his face,\nwondered if he were asleep. She did not think he was. He looked as if\nhis lips were tight shut to keep back moans of pain. Pollyanna herself\nalmost cried aloud as she looked at his great, strong body lying there\nso helpless. One hand, with fingers tightly clenched, lay outflung,\nmotionless. The other, limply open, lay on the dog\'s head. The dog, his\nwistful, eager eyes on his master\'s face, was motionless, too.\n\nMinute by minute the time passed. The sun dropped lower in the west\nand the shadows grew deeper under the trees. Pollyanna sat so still she\nhardly seemed to breathe. A bird alighted fearlessly within reach of\nher hand, and a squirrel whisked his bushy tail on a tree-branch almost\nunder her nose--yet with his bright little eyes all the while on the\nmotionless dog.\n\nAt last the dog pricked up his cars and whined softly; then he gave a\nshort, sharp bark. The next moment Pollyanna heard voices, and very soon\ntheir owners appeared three men carrying a stretcher and various other\narticles.\n\nThe tallest of the party--a smooth-shaven, kind-eyed man whom Pollyanna\nknew by sight as \"Dr. Chilton\"--advanced cheerily.\n\n\"Well, my little lady, playing nurse?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir,\" smiled Pollyanna. \"I\'ve only held his head--I haven\'t\ngiven him a mite of medicine. But I\'m glad I was here.\"\n\n\"So am I,\" nodded the doctor, as he turned his absorbed attention to the\ninjured man.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. JUST A MATTER OF JELLY\n\nPollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to\nJohn Pendleton; but, as it happened, she escaped without reproof.\n\nNancy met her at the door.\n\n\"Well, if I ain\'t glad ter be settin\' my two eyes on you,\" she sighed in\nobvious relief. \"It\'s half-past six!\"\n\n\"I know it,\" admitted Pollyanna anxiously; \"but I\'m not to blame--truly\nI\'m not. And I don\'t think even Aunt Polly will say I am, either.\"\n\n\"She won\'t have the chance,\" retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction.\n\"She\'s gone.\"\n\n\"Gone!\" gasped Pollyanna. \"You don\'t mean that I\'ve driven her away?\"\nThrough Pollyanna\'s mind at the moment trooped remorseful memories\nof the morning with its unwanted boy, cat, and dog, and its unwelcome\n\"glad\" and forbidden \"father\" that would spring to her forgetful little\ntongue. \"Oh, I DIDN\'T drive her away?\"\n\n\"Not much you did,\" scoffed Nancy. \"Her cousin died suddenly down to\nBoston, and she had ter go. She had one o\' them yeller telegram letters\nafter you went away this afternoon, and she won\'t be back for three\ndays. Now I guess we\'re glad all right. We\'ll be keepin\' house\ntergether, jest you and me, all that time. We will, we will!\"\n\nPollyanna looked shocked.\n\n\"Glad! Oh, Nancy, when it\'s a funeral?\"\n\n\"Oh, but \'twa\'n\'t the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna. It was--\"\nNancy stopped abruptly. A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes. \"Why, Miss\nPollyanna, as if it wa\'n\'t yerself that was teachin\' me ter play the\ngame,\" she reproached her gravely.\n\nPollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown.\n\n\"I can\'t help it, Nancy,\" she argued with a shake of her head. \"It\nmust be that there are some things that \'tisn\'t right to play the game\non--and I\'m sure funerals is one of them. There\'s nothing in a funeral\nto be glad about.\"\n\nNancy chuckled.\n\n\"We can be glad \'tain\'t our\'n,\" she observed demurely. But Pollyanna did\nnot hear. She had begun to tell of the accident; and in a moment Nancy,\nopen-mouthed, was listening.\n\nAt the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy Bean\naccording to agreement. As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed\nkeen disappointment that the Ladies\' Aid preferred a little India boy to\nhimself.\n\n\"Well, maybe \'tis natural,\" he sighed. \"Of course things you don\'t know\nabout are always nicer\'n things you do, same as the pertater on \'tother\nside of the plate is always the biggest. But I wish I looked that way\nter somebody \'way off. Wouldn\'t it be jest great, now, if only somebody\nover in India wanted ME?\"\n\nPollyanna clapped her hands.\n\n\"Why, of course! That\'s the very thing, Jimmy! I\'ll write to my Ladies\'\nAiders about you. They aren\'t over in India; they\'re only out West--but\nthat\'s awful far away, just the same. I reckon you\'d think so if you\'d\ncome all the way here as I did!\"\n\nJimmy\'s face brightened.\n\n\"Do you think they would--truly--take me?\" he asked.\n\n\"Of course they would! Don\'t they take little boys in India to bring\nup? Well, they can just play you are the little India boy this time.\nI reckon you\'re far enough away to make a report, all right. You wait.\nI\'ll write \'em. I\'ll write Mrs. White. No, I\'ll write Mrs. Jones. Mrs.\nWhite has got the most money, but Mrs. Jones gives the most--which is\nkind of funny, isn\'t it?--when you think of it. But I reckon some of the\nAiders will take you.\"\n\n\"All right--but don\'t furgit ter say I\'ll work fur my board an\' keep,\"\nput in Jimmy. \"I ain\'t no beggar, an\' biz\'ness is biz\'ness, even with\nLadies\' Aiders, I\'m thinkin\'.\" He hesitated, then added: \"An\' I s\'pose I\nbetter stay where I be fur a spell yet--till you hear.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" nodded Pollyanna emphatically. \"Then I\'ll know just where\nto find you. And they\'ll take you--I\'m sure you\'re far enough away for\nthat. Didn\'t Aunt Polly take--Say!\" she broke off, suddenly, \"DO you\nsuppose I was Aunt Polly\'s little girl from India?\"\n\n\"Well, if you ain\'t the queerest kid,\" grinned Jimmy, as he turned away.\n\nIt was about a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that Pollyanna\nsaid to her aunt one morning:\n\n\"Aunt Polly, please would you mind very much if I took Mrs. Snow\'s\ncalf\'s-foot jelly this week to some one else? I\'m sure Mrs. Snow\nwouldn\'t--this once.\"\n\n\"Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now?\" sighed her aunt. \"You ARE\nthe most extraordinary child!\"\n\nPollyanna frowned a little anxiously.\n\n\"Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you\'re EXtraordinary you\ncan\'t be ORdinary, can you?\"\n\n\"You certainly can not.\"\n\n\"Oh, that\'s all right, then. I\'m glad I\'m EXtraordinary,\" sighed\nPollyanna, her face clearing. \"You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs.\nRawson was a very ordinary woman--and she disliked Mrs. Rawson something\nawful. They were always fight--I mean, father had--that is, I mean, WE\nhad more trouble keeping peace between them than we did between any of\nthe rest of the Aiders,\" corrected Pollyanna, a little breathless from\nher efforts to steer between the Scylla of her father\'s past commands in\nregard to speaking of church quarrels, and the Charybdis of her aunt\'s\npresent commands in regard to speaking of her father.\n\n\"Yes, yes; well, never mind,\" interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle\nimpatiently. \"You do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter what we\'re\ntalking about you always bring up at those Ladies\' Aiders!\"\n\n\"Yes\'m,\" smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, \"I reckon I do, maybe. But you\nsee they used to bring me up, and--\"\n\n\"That will do, Pollyanna,\" interrupted a cold voice. \"Now what is it\nabout this jelly?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, I\'m sure. You let me\ntake jelly to HER, so I thought you would to HIM--this once. You see,\nbroken legs aren\'t like--like lifelong invalids, so his won\'t last\nforever as Mrs. Snow\'s does, and she can have all the rest of the things\nafter just once or twice.\"\n\n\"\'Him\'? \'He\'? \'Broken leg\'? What are you talking about, Pollyanna?\"\n\nPollyanna stared; then her face relaxed.\n\n\"Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn\'t know. You see, it happened while you\nwere gone. It was the very day you went that I found him in the woods,\nyou know; and I had to unlock his house and telephone for the men and\nthe doctor, and hold his head, and everything. And of course then I came\naway and haven\'t seen him since. But when Nancy made the jelly for Mrs.\nSnow this week I thought how nice it would be if I could take it to him\ninstead of her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I suppose so,\" acquiesced Miss Polly, a little wearily. \"Who\ndid you say he was?\"\n\n\"The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.\"\n\nMiss Polly almost sprang from her chair.\n\n\"JOHN PENDLETON!\"\n\n\"Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.\"\n\nMiss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked:\n\n\"Do YOU know him?\"\n\nPollyanna nodded.\n\n\"Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles--now. He\'s only cross OUTSIDE, you\nknow. I\'ll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it \'most fixed when I came\nin,\" finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room.\n\n\"Pollyanna, wait! Miss Polly\'s voice was suddenly very stern. I\'ve\nchanged my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly to-day--as\nusual. That is all. You may go now.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s face fell.\n\n\"Oh, but Aunt Polly, HERS will last. She can always be sick and have\nthings, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs don\'t last--I\nmean, broken ones. He\'s had it a whole week now.\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident,\"\nsaid Miss Polly, a little stiffly; \"but--I do not care to be sending\njelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"I know, he is cross--outside,\" admitted Pollyanna, sadly, \"so I suppose\nyou don\'t like him. But I wouldn\'t say \'twas you sent it. I\'d say \'twas\nme. I like him. I\'d be glad to send him jelly.\"\n\nMiss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped,\nand asked in a curiously quiet voice:\n\n\"Does he know who you--are, Pollyanna?\"\n\nThe little girl sighed.\n\n\"I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me\nit--never.\"\n\n\"Does he know where you--live?\"\n\n\"Oh, no. I never told him that.\"\n\n\"Then he doesn\'t know you\'re my--niece?\"\n\n\"I don\'t think so.\"\n\nFor a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna\nwith eyes that did not seem to see her at all. The little girl, shifting\nimpatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly. Then Miss\nPolly roused herself with a start.\n\n\"Very well, Pollyanna,\" she said at last, still in that queer voice, so\nunlike her own; \"you may you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your\nown gift. But understand: I do not send it. Be very sure that he does\nnot think I do!\"\n\n\"Yes\'m--no\'m--thank you, Aunt Polly,\" exulted Pollyanna, as she flew\nthrough the door.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. DR. CHILTON\n\nThe great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when\nshe made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows\nwere open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the back yard,\nand the doctor\'s gig stood under the porte-cochere.\n\nAs before Pollyanna went to the side door. This time she rang the\nbell--her fingers were not stiff to-day from a tight clutch on a bunch\nof keys.\n\nA familiar-looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her, but\nthere was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the\nclothes opened the door.\n\n\"If you please, I\'ve brought some calf\'s-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,\"\nsmiled Pollyanna.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girl\'s\nhand. \"Who shall I say sent it? And it\'s calf\'s-foot jelly?\"\n\nThe doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the woman\'s words\nand saw the disappointed look on Pollyanna\'s face. He stepped quickly\nforward.\n\n\"Ah! Some calf\'s-foot jelly?\" he asked genially. \"That will be fine!\nMaybe you\'d like to see our patient, eh?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir,\" beamed Pollyanna; and the woman, in obedience to a nod\nfrom the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with\nvast surprise on her face.\n\nBehind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city)\ngave a disturbed exclamation.\n\n\"But, Doctor, didn\'t Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit--any one?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" nodded the doctor, imperturbably. \"But I\'m giving orders\nnow. I\'ll take the risk.\" Then he added whimsically: \"You don\'t know, of\ncourse; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic\nany day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton\nthis afternoon, she can. That\'s why I sent her in.\"\n\n\"Who is she?\"\n\nFor one brief moment the doctor hesitated.\n\n\"She\'s the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is\nPollyanna Whittier. I--I don\'t happen to enjoy a very extensive personal\nacquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients\ndo--I\'m thankful to say!\"\n\nThe nurse smiled.\n\n\"Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this\nwonder-working--tonic of hers?\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head.\n\n\"I don\'t know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming,\nunquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to\nhappen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated\nto me, and, as near as I can make out, \'just being glad\' is the tenor\nof most of them. All is,\" he added, with another whimsical smile, as\nhe stepped out on to the porch, \"I wish I could prescribe her--and buy\nher--as I would a box of pills;--though if there gets to be many of\nher in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and\nditch-digging for all the money we\'d get out of nursing and doctoring,\"\nhe laughed, picking up the reins and stepping into the gig.\n\nPollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor\'s orders, was being\nescorted to John Pendleton\'s rooms.\n\nHer way led through the great library at the end of the hall, and, rapid\nas was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes\nhad taken place. The book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the\nsame; but there was no litter on the floor, no untidiness on the desk,\nand not so much as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card hung in\nits proper place, and the brass andirons had been polished. One of the\nmysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the\nway. A moment later Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished\nbedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice:\n\n\"If you please, sir, here--here\'s a little girl with some jelly. The\ndoctor said I was to--to bring her in.\"\n\nThe next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking\nman lying flat on his back in bed.\n\n\"See here, didn\'t I say--\" began an angry voice. \"Oh, it\'s you!\" it\nbroke off not very graciously, as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" smiled Pollyanna. \"Oh, I\'m so glad they let me in! You see,\nat first the lady \'most took my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn\'t\ngoing to see you at all. Then the doctor came, and he said I might.\nWasn\'t he lovely to let me see you?\"\n\nIn spite of himself the man\'s lips twitched into a smile; but all he\nsaid was \"Humph!\"\n\n\"And I\'ve brought you some jelly,\" resumed Pollyanna; \"--calf\'s-foot. I\nhope you like it?\" There was a rising inflection in her voice.\n\n\"Never ate it.\" The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back\nto the man\'s face.\n\nFor a brief instant Pollyanna\'s countenance showed disappointment; but\nit cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down.\n\n\"Didn\'t you? Well, if you didn\'t, then you can\'t know you DON\'T like it,\nanyhow, can you? So I reckon I\'m glad you haven\'t, after all. Now, if\nyou knew--\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; well, there\'s one thing I know all right, and that is that\nI\'m flat on my back right here this minute, and that I\'m liable to stay\nhere--till doomsday, I guess.\"\n\nPollyanna looked shocked.\n\n\"Oh, no! It couldn\'t be till doomsday, you know, when the angel Gabriel\nblows his trumpet, unless it should come quicker than we think it\nwill--oh, of course, I know the Bible says it may come quicker than\nwe think, but I don\'t think it will--that is, of course I believe the\nBible; but I mean I don\'t think it will come as much quicker as it would\nif it should come now, and--\"\n\nJohn Pendleton laughed suddenly--and aloud. The nurse, coming in at that\nmoment, heard the laugh, and beat a hurried--but a very silent--retreat.\nHe had the air of a frightened cook who, seeing the danger of a breath\nof cold air striking a half-done cake, hastily shuts the oven door.\n\n\"Aren\'t you getting a little mixed?\" asked John Pendleton of Pollyanna.\n\nThe little girl laughed.\n\n\"Maybe. But what I mean is, that legs don\'t last--broken ones, you\nknow--like lifelong invalids, same as Mrs. Snow has got. So yours won\'t\nlast till doomsday at all. I should think you could be glad of that.\"\n\n\"Oh, I am,\" retorted the man grimly.\n\n\"And you didn\'t break but one. You can be glad \'twasn\'t two.\" Pollyanna\nwas warming to her task.\n\n\"Of course! So fortunate,\" sniffed the man, with uplifted eyebrows;\n\"looking at it from that standpoint, I suppose I might be glad I wasn\'t\na centipede and didn\'t break fifty!\"\n\nPollyanna chuckled.\n\n\"Oh, that\'s the best yet,\" she crowed. \"I know what a centipede is;\nthey\'ve got lots of legs. And you can be glad--\"\n\n\"Oh, of course,\" interrupted the man, sharply, all the old bitterness\ncoming back to his voice; \"I can be glad, too, for all the rest, I\nsuppose--the nurse, and the doctor, and that confounded woman in the\nkitchen!\"\n\n\"Why, yes, sir--only think how bad \'twould be if you DIDN\'T have them!\"\n\n\"Well, I--eh?\" he demanded sharply.\n\n\"Why, I say, only think how bad it would be if you didn\'t have \'em--and\nyou lying here like this!\"\n\n\"As if that wasn\'t the very thing that was at the bottom of the whole\nmatter,\" retorted the man, testily, \"because I am lying here like\nthis! And yet you expect me to say I\'m glad because of a fool woman who\ndisarranges the whole house and calls it \'regulating,\' and a man who\naids and abets her in it, and calls it \'nursing,\' to say nothing of the\ndoctor who eggs \'em both on--and the whole bunch of them, meanwhile,\nexpecting me to pay them for it, and pay them well, too!\"\n\nPollyanna frowned sympathetically.\n\n\"Yes, I know. THAT part is too bad--about the money--when you\'ve been\nsaving it, too, all this time.\"\n\n\"When--eh?\"\n\n\"Saving it--buying beans and fish balls, you know. Say, DO you like\nbeans?--or do you like turkey better, only on account of the sixty\ncents?\"\n\n\"Look a-here, child, what are you talking about?\"\n\nPollyanna smiled radiantly.\n\n\"About your money, you know--denying yourself, and saving it for the\nheathen. You see, I found out about it. Why, Mr. Pendleton, that\'s one\nof the ways I knew you weren\'t cross inside. Nancy told me.\"\n\nThe man\'s jaw dropped.\n\n\"Nancy told you I was saving money for the--Well, may I inquire who\nNancy is?\"\n\n\"Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?\"\n\n\"She\'s Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.\"\n\nThe man made a sudden movement.\n\n\"Miss--Polly--Harrington!\" he breathed. \"You live with--HER!\"\n\n\"Yes; I\'m her niece. She\'s taken me to bring up--on account of my\nmother, you know,\" faltered Pollyanna, in a low voice. \"She was her\nsister. And after father--went to be with her and the rest of us in\nHeaven, there wasn\'t any one left for me down here but the Ladies\' Aid;\nso she took me.\"\n\nThe man did not answer. His face, as he lay back on the pillow now, was\nvery white--so white that Pollyanna was frightened. She rose uncertainly\nto her feet.\n\n\"I reckon maybe I\'d better go now,\" she proposed. \"I--I hope you\'ll\nlike--the jelly.\"\n\nThe man turned his head suddenly, and opened his eyes. There was a\ncurious longing in their dark depths which even Pollyanna saw, and at\nwhich she marvelled.\n\n\"And so you are--Miss Polly Harrington\'s niece,\" he said gently.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nStill the man\'s dark eyes lingered on her face, until Pollyanna, feeling\nvaguely restless, murmured:\n\n\"I--I suppose you know--her.\"\n\nJohn Pendleton\'s lips curved in an odd smile.\n\n\"Oh, yes; I know her.\" He hesitated, then went on, still with that\ncurious smile. \"But--you don\'t mean--you can\'t mean that it was Miss\nPolly Harrington who sent that jelly--to me?\" he said slowly.\n\nPollyanna looked distressed.\n\n\"N-no, sir: she didn\'t. She said I must be very sure not to let you\nthink she did send it. But I--\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" vouchsafed the man, shortly, turning away his head.\nAnd Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room.\n\nUnder the porte-cochere she found the doctor waiting in his gig. The\nnurse stood on the steps.\n\n\"Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure of seeing you home?\"\nasked the doctor smilingly. \"I started to drive on a few minutes ago;\nthen it occurred to me that I\'d wait for you.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. I\'m glad you did. I just love to ride,\" beamed\nPollyanna, as he reached out his hand to help her in.\n\n\"Do you?\" smiled the doctor, nodding his head in farewell to the young\nman on the steps. \"Well, as near as I can judge, there are a good many\nthings you \'love\' to do--eh?\" he added, as they drove briskly away.\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Why, I don\'t know. I reckon perhaps there are,\" she admitted. \"I like\nto do \'most everything that\'s LIVING. Of course I don\'t like the other\nthings very well--sewing, and reading out loud, and all that. But THEY\naren\'t LIVING.\"\n\n\"No? What are they, then?\"\n\n\"Aunt Polly says they\'re \'learning to live,\'\" sighed Pollyanna, with a\nrueful smile.\n\nThe doctor smiled now--a little queerly.\n\n\"Does she? Well, I should think she might say--just that.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" responded Pollyanna. \"But I don\'t see it that way at all. I don\'t\nthink you have to LEARN how to live. I didn\'t, anyhow.\"\n\nThe doctor drew a long sigh.\n\n\"After all, I\'m afraid some of us--do have to, little girl,\" he said.\nThen, for a time he was silent. Pollyanna, stealing a glance at\nhis face, felt vaguely sorry for him. He looked so sad. She wished,\nuneasily, that she could \"do something.\" It was this, perhaps, that\ncaused her to say in a timid voice:\n\n\"Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would, be the very gladdest\nkind of a business there was.\"\n\nThe doctor turned in surprise.\n\n\"\'Gladdest\'!--when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go?\" he\ncried.\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"I know; but you\'re HELPING it--don\'t you see?--and of course you\'re\nglad to help it! And so that makes you the gladdest of any of us, all\nthe time.\"\n\nThe doctor\'s eyes filled with sudden hot tears. The doctor\'s life was\na singularly lonely one. He had no wife and no home save his two-room\noffice in a boarding house. His profession was very dear to him. Looking\nnow into Pollyanna\'s shining eyes, he felt as if a loving hand had been\nsuddenly laid on his head in blessing. He knew, too, that never again\nwould a long day\'s work or a long night\'s weariness be quite without\nthat new-found exaltation that had come to him through Pollyanna\'s eyes.\n\n\"God bless you, little girl,\" he said unsteadily. Then, with the bright\nsmile his patients knew and loved so well, he added: \"And I\'m thinking,\nafter all, that it was the doctor, quite as much as his patients, that\nneeded a draft of that tonic!\" All of which puzzled Pollyanna very\nmuch--until a chipmunk, running across the road, drove the whole matter\nfrom her mind.\n\nThe doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, who was\nsweeping off the front porch, then drove rapidly away.\n\n\"I\'ve had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor,\" announced\nPollyanna, bounding up the steps. \"He\'s lovely, Nancy!\"\n\n\"Is he?\"\n\n\"Yes. And I told him I should think his business would be the very\ngladdest one there was.\"\n\n\"What!--goin\' ter see sick folks--an\' folks what ain\'t sick but thinks\nthey is, which is worse?\" Nancy\'s face showed open skepticism.\n\nPollyanna laughed gleefully.\n\n\"Yes. That\'s \'most what he said, too; but there is a way to be glad,\neven then. Guess!\"\n\nNancy frowned in meditation. Nancy was getting so she could play this\ngame of \"being glad\" quite successfully, she thought. She rather enjoyed\nstudying out Pollyanna\'s \"posers,\" too, as she called some of the little\ngirl\'s questions.\n\n\"Oh, I know,\" she chuckled. \"It\'s just the opposite from what you told\nMis\' Snow.\"\n\n\"Opposite?\" repeated Pollyanna, obviously puzzled.\n\n\"Yes. You told her she could be glad because other folks wasn\'t like\nher--all sick, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" nodded Pollyanna.\n\n\"Well, the doctor can be glad because he isn\'t like other folks--the\nsick ones, I mean, what he doctors,\" finished Nancy in triumph.\n\nIt was Pollyanna\'s turn to frown.\n\n\"Why, y-yes,\" she admitted. \"Of course that IS one way, but it isn\'t the\nway I said; and--someway, I don\'t seem to quite like the sound of it. It\nisn\'t exactly as if he said he was glad they WERE sick, but--You do play\nthe game so funny, sometimes Nancy,\" she sighed, as she went into the\nhouse.\n\nPollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room.\n\n\"Who was that man--the one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna?\"\nquestioned the lady a little sharply.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton! Don\'t you know him?\"\n\n\"Dr. Chilton! What was he doing--here?\"\n\n\"He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and--\"\n\nMiss Polly lifted her head quickly.\n\n\"Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn\'t.\"\n\nMiss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink.\n\n\"You TOLD him I didn\'t!\"\n\nPollyanna opened wide her eyes at the remonstrative dismay in her aunt\'s\nvoice.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, you SAID to!\"\n\nAunt Polly sighed.\n\n\"I SAID, Pollyanna, that I did not send it, and for you to be very sure\nthat he did not think I DID!--which is a very different matter from\nTELLING him outright that I did not send it.\" And she turned vexedly\naway.\n\n\"Dear me! Well, I don\'t see where the difference is,\" sighed Pollyanna,\nas she went to hang her hat on the one particular hook in the house upon\nwhich Aunt Polly had said that it must be hung.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. A RED ROSE AND A LACE SHAWL\n\nIt was on a rainy day about a week after Pollyanna\'s visit to Mr. John\nPendleton, that Miss Polly was driven by Timothy to an early afternoon\ncommittee meeting of the Ladies\' Aid Society. When she returned at three\no\'clock, her cheeks were a bright, pretty pink, and her hair, blown by\nthe damp wind, had fluffed into kinks and curls wherever the loosened\npins had given leave.\n\nPollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this.\n\n\"Oh--oh--oh! Why, Aunt Polly, you\'ve got \'em, too,\" she cried\nrapturously, dancing round and round her aunt, as that lady entered the\nsitting room.\n\n\"Got what, you impossible child?\"\n\nPollyanna was still revolving round and round her aunt.\n\n\"And I never knew you had \'em! Can folks have \'em when you don\'t know\nthey\'ve got \'em? DO you suppose I could?--\'fore I get to Heaven, I\nmean,\" she cried, pulling out with eager fingers the straight locks\nabove her ears. \"But then, they wouldn\'t be black, if they did come. You\ncan\'t hide the black part.\"\n\n\"Pollyanna, what does all this mean?\" demanded Aunt Polly, hurriedly\nremoving her hat, and trying to smooth back her disordered hair.\n\n\"No, no--please, Aunt Polly!\" Pollyanna\'s jubilant voice turned to one\nof distressed appeal. \"Don\'t smooth \'em out! It\'s those that I\'m talking\nabout--those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt Polly, they\'re so\npretty!\"\n\n\"Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies\' Aid the\nother day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy?\"\n\n\"But it isn\'t nonsense,\" urged Pollyanna, answering only the first of\nher aunt\'s remarks. \"You don\'t know how pretty you look with your hair\nlike that! Oh, Aunt Polly, please, mayn\'t I do your hair like I did Mrs.\nSnow\'s, and put in a flower? I\'d so love to see you that way! Why, you\'d\nbe ever so much prettier than she was!\"\n\n\"Pollyanna!\" (Miss Polly spoke very sharply--all the more sharply\nbecause Pollyanna\'s words had given her an odd throb of joy: when before\nhad anybody cared how she, or her hair looked? When before had anybody\n\"loved\" to see her \"pretty\"?) \"Pollyanna, you did not answer my\nquestion. Why did you go to the Ladies\' Aid in that absurd fashion?\"\n\n\"Yes\'m, I know; but, please, I didn\'t know it was absurd until I went\nand found out they\'d rather see their report grow than Jimmy. So then\nI wrote to MY Ladies\' Aiders--\'cause Jimmy is far away from them,\nyou know; and I thought maybe he could be their little India boy same\nas--Aunt Polly, WAS I your little India girl? And, Aunt Polly, you WILL\nlet me do your hair, won\'t you?\"\n\nAunt Polly put her hand to her throat--the old, helpless feeling was\nupon her, she knew.\n\n\"But, Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to\nthem, I was so ashamed! I--\"\n\nPollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes.\n\n\"You didn\'t!--You didn\'t say I COULDN\'T do your hair,\" she crowed\ntriumphantly; \"and so I\'m sure it means just the other way \'round,\nsort of--like it did the other day about Mr. Pendleton\'s jelly that you\ndidn\'t send, but didn\'t want me to say you didn\'t send, you know. Now\nwait just where you are. I\'ll get a comb.\"\n\n\"But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,\" remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the\nlittle girl from the room and panting up-stairs after her.\n\n\"Oh, did you come up here?\" Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss\nPolly\'s own room. \"That\'ll be nicer yet! I\'ve got the comb. Now sit\ndown, please, right here. Oh, I\'m so glad you let me do it!\"\n\n\"But, Pollyanna, I--I--\"\n\nMiss Polly did not finish her sentence. To her helpless amazement she\nfound herself in the low chair before the dressing table, with her\nhair already tumbling about her ears under ten eager, but very gentle\nfingers.\n\n\"Oh, my! what pretty hair you\'ve got,\" prattled Pollyanna; \"and there\'s\nso much more of it than Mrs. Snow has, too! But, of course, you need\nmore, anyhow, because you\'re well and can go to places where folks\ncan see it. My! I reckon folks\'ll be glad when they do see it--and\nsurprised, too, \'cause you\'ve hid it so long. Why, Aunt Polly, I\'ll make\nyou so pretty everybody\'ll just love to look at you!\"\n\n\"Pollyanna!\" gasped a stifled but shocked voice from a veil of hair.\n\"I--I\'m sure I don\'t know why I\'m letting you do this silly thing.\"\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you\'d be glad to have folks like to\nlook at you! Don\'t you like to look at pretty things? I\'m ever so much\nhappier when I look at pretty folks, \'cause when I look at the other\nkind I\'m so sorry for them.\"\n\n\"But--but--\"\n\n\"And I just love to do folks\' hair,\" purred Pollyanna, contentedly. \"I\ndid quite a lot of the Ladies\' Aiders\'--but there wasn\'t any of them so\nnice as yours. Mrs. White\'s was pretty nice, though, and she looked\njust lovely one day when I dressed her up in--Oh, Aunt Polly, I\'ve just\nhappened to think of something! But it\'s a secret, and I sha\'n\'t tell.\nNow your hair is almost done, and pretty quick I\'m going to leave you\njust a minute; and you must promise--promise--PROMISE not to stir nor\npeek, even, till I come back. Now remember!\" she finished, as she ran\nfrom the room.\n\nAloud Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she said that of course she\nshould at once undo the absurd work of her niece\'s fingers, and put her\nhair up properly again. As for \"peeking\" just as if she cared how--\n\nAt that moment--unaccountably--Miss Polly caught a glimpse of herself in\nthe mirror of the dressing table. And what she saw sent such a flush of\nrosy color to her cheeks that--she only flushed the more at the sight.\n\nShe saw a face--not young, it is true--but just now alight with\nexcitement and surprise. The cheeks were a pretty pink. The eyes\nsparkled. The hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay\nin loose waves about the forehead and curved back over the ears in\nwonderfully becoming lines, with softening little curls here and there.\n\nSo amazed and so absorbed was Miss Polly with what she saw in the glass\nthat she quite forgot her determination to do over her hair, until she\nheard Pollyanna enter the room again. Before she could move, then, she\nfelt a folded something slipped across her eyes and tied in the back.\n\n\"Pollyanna, Pollyanna! What are you doing?\" she cried.\n\nPollyanna chuckled.\n\n\"That\'s just what I don\'t want you to know, Aunt Polly, and I was afraid\nyou WOULD peek, so I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit still. It won\'t\ntake but just a minute, then I\'ll let you see.\"\n\n\"But, Pollyanna,\" began Miss Polly, struggling blindly to her feet, \"you\nmust take this off! You--child, child! what ARE you doing?\" she gasped,\nas she felt a soft something slipped about her shoulders.\n\nPollyanna only chuckled the more gleefully. With trembling fingers she\nwas draping about her aunt\'s shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful\nlace shawl, yellowed from long years of packing away, and fragrant with\nlavender. Pollyanna had found the shawl the week before when Nancy had\nbeen regulating the attic; and it had occurred to her to-day that there\nwas no reason why her aunt, as well as Mrs. White of her Western home,\nshould not be \"dressed up.\"\n\nHer task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that approved,\nbut that saw yet one touch wanting. Promptly, therefore, she pulled\nher aunt toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated red rose\nblooming on the trellis within reach of her hand.\n\n\"Pollyanna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to?\" recoiled\nAunt Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back. \"Pollyanna, I shall\nnot--\"\n\n\"It\'s just to the sun parlor--only a minute! I\'ll have you ready\nnow quicker\'n no time,\" panted Pollyanna, reaching for the rose and\nthrusting it into the soft hair above Miss Polly\'s left ear. \"There!\"\nshe exulted, untying the knot of the handkerchief and flinging the bit\nof linen far from her. \"Oh, Aunt Polly, now I reckon you\'ll be glad I\ndressed you up!\"\n\nFor one dazed moment Miss Polly looked at her bedecked self, and at her\nsurroundings; then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna,\nfollowing the direction of her aunt\'s last dismayed gaze, saw, through\nthe open windows of the sun parlor, the horse and gig turning into the\ndriveway. She recognized at once the man who held the reins. Delightedly\nshe leaned forward.\n\n\"Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me? I\'m up here.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" smiled the doctor, a little gravely. \"Will you come down,\nplease?\"\n\nIn the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed woman\nplucking at the pins that held a lace shawl in place.\n\n\"Pollyanna, how could you?\" moaned the woman. \"To think of your rigging\nme up like this, and then letting me--BE SEEN!\"\n\nPollyanna stopped in dismay.\n\n\"But you looked lovely--perfectly lovely, Aunt Polly; and--\"\n\n\"\'Lovely\'!\" scorned the woman, flinging the shawl to one side and\nattacking her hair with shaking fingers.\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let the hair stay!\"\n\n\"Stay? Like this? As if I would!\" And Miss Polly pulled the locks so\ntightly back that the last curl lay stretched dead at the ends of her\nfingers.\n\n\"O dear! And you did look so pretty,\" almost sobbed Pollyanna, as she\nstumbled through the door.\n\nDown-stairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting in his gig.\n\n\"I\'ve prescribed you for a patient, and he\'s sent me to get the\nprescription filled,\" announced the doctor. \"Will you go?\"\n\n\"You mean--an errand--to the drug store?\" asked Pollyanna, a little\nuncertainly. \"I used to go some--for the Ladies\' Aiders.\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head with a smile.\n\n\"Not exactly. It\'s Mr. John Pendleton. He would like to see you to-day,\nif you\'ll be so good as to come. It\'s stopped raining, so I drove down\nafter you. Will you come? I\'ll call for you and bring you back before\nsix o\'clock.\"\n\n\"I\'d love to!\" exclaimed Pollyanna. \"Let me ask Aunt Polly.\"\n\nIn a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober\nface.\n\n\"Didn\'t--your aunt want you to go?\" asked the doctor, a little\ndiffidently, as they drove away.\n\n\"Y-yes,\" sighed Pollyanna. \"She--she wanted me to go TOO much, I\'m\nafraid.\"\n\n\"Wanted you to go TOO MUCH!\"\n\nPollyanna sighed again.\n\n\"Yes. I reckon she meant she didn\'t want me there. You see, she said:\n\'Yes, yes, run along, run along--do! I wish you\'d gone before.\'\"\n\nThe doctor smiled--but with his lips only. His eyes were very grave. For\nsome time he said nothing; then, a little hesitatingly, he asked:\n\n\"Wasn\'t it--your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago--in the window of\nthe sun parlor?\"\n\nPollyanna drew a long breath.\n\n\"Yes; that\'s what\'s the whole trouble, I suppose. You see I\'d dressed\nher up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl I found up-stairs, and I\'d fixed\nher hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. Didn\'t YOU think\nshe looked just lovely?\"\n\nFor a moment the doctor did not answer. When he did speak his voice was\nso low Pollyanna could but just hear the words.\n\n\"Yes, Pollyanna, I--I thought she did look--just lovely.\"\n\n\"Did you? I\'m so glad! I\'ll tell her,\" nodded the little girl,\ncontentedly.\n\nTo her surprise the doctor gave a sudden exclamation.\n\n\"Never! Pollyanna, I--I\'m afraid I shall have to ask you not to tell\nher--that.\"\n\n\"Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you\'d be glad--\"\n\n\"But she might not be,\" cut in the doctor.\n\nPollyanna considered this for a moment.\n\n\"That\'s so--maybe she wouldn\'t,\" she sighed. \"I remember now; \'twas\n\'cause she saw you that she ran. And she--she spoke afterwards about her\nbeing seen in that rig.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" declared the doctor, under his breath.\n\n\"Still, I don\'t see why,\" maintained Pollyanna, \"--when she looked so\npretty!\"\n\nThe doctor said nothing. He did not speak again, indeed, until they\nwere almost to the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a\nbroken leg.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. \"JUST LIKE A BOOK\"\n\nJohn Pendleton greeted Pollyanna to-day with a smile.\n\n\"Well, Miss Pollyanna, I\'m thinking you must be a very forgiving little\nperson, else you wouldn\'t have come to see me again to-day.\"\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, and I\'m sure I don\'t see\nwhy I shouldn\'t be, either.\"\n\n\"Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I\'m afraid, both the\nother day when you so kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when\nyou found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don\'t\nthink I\'ve ever thanked you for that. Now I\'m sure that even you would\nadmit that you were very forgiving to come and see me, after such\nungrateful treatment as that!\"\n\nPollyanna stirred uneasily.\n\n\"But I was glad to find you--that is, I don\'t mean I was glad your leg\nwas broken, of course,\" she corrected hurriedly.\n\nJohn Pendleton smiled.\n\n\"I understand. Your tongue does get away with you once in a while,\ndoesn\'t it, Miss Pollyanna? I do thank you, however; and I consider you\na very brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for\nthe jelly, too,\" he added in a lighter voice.\n\n\"Did you like it?\" asked Pollyanna with interest.\n\n\"Very much. I suppose--there isn\'t any more to-day that--that Aunt Polly\nDIDN\'T send, is there?\" he asked with an odd smile.\n\nHis visitor looked distressed.\n\n\"N-no, sir.\" She hesitated, then went on with heightened color. \"Please,\nMr. Pendleton, I didn\'t mean to be rude the other day when I said Aunt\nPolly did NOT send the jelly.\"\n\nThere was no answer. John Pendleton was not smiling now. He was looking\nstraight ahead of him with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and\nbeyond the object before them. After a time he drew a long sigh and\nturned to Pollyanna. When he spoke his voice carried the old nervous\nfretfulness.\n\n\"Well, well, this will never do at all! I didn\'t send for you to see\nme moping this time. Listen! Out in the library--the big room where the\ntelephone is, you know--you will find a carved box on the lower shelf of\nthe big case with glass doors in the corner not far from the fireplace.\nThat is, it\'ll be there if that confounded woman hasn\'t \'regulated\'\nit to somewhere else! You may bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too\nheavy for you to carry, I think.\"\n\n\"Oh, I\'m awfully strong,\" declared Pollyanna, cheerfully, as she sprang\nto her feet. In a minute she had returned with the box.\n\nIt was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was\nfull of treasures--curios that John Pendleton had picked up in years of\ntravel--and concerning each there was some entertaining story, whether\nit were a set of exquisitely carved chessmen from China, or a little\njade idol from India.\n\nIt was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna\nmurmured wistfully:\n\n\"Well, I suppose it WOULD be better to take a little boy in India to\nbring up--one that didn\'t know any more than to think that God was in\nthat doll-thing--than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who\nknows God is up in the sky. Still, I can\'t help wishing they had wanted\nJimmy Bean, too, besides the India boys.\"\n\nJohn Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his, eyes were staring\nstraight before him, looking at nothing. But soon he had roused himself,\nand had picked up another curio to talk about.\n\nThe visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was over,\nPollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides\nthe wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking\nof herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life. They were\ntalking, too, even of the life and home long ago in the far Western\ntown.\n\nNot until it was nearly time for her to go, did the man say, in a voice\nPollyanna had never before heard from stern John Pendleton:\n\n\"Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you? I\'m\nlonesome, and I need you. There\'s another reason--and I\'m going to tell\nyou that, too. I thought, at first, after I found out who you were,\nthe other day, that I didn\'t want you to come any more. You reminded\nme of--of something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said\nto myself that I never wanted to see you again; and every day, when the\ndoctor asked if I wouldn\'t let him bring you to me, I said no.\n\n\"But after a time I found I was wanting to see you so much that--that\nthe fact that I WASN\'T seeing you was making me remember all the more\nvividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So now I want you to come.\nWill you--little girl?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Mr. Pendleton,\" breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with\nsympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her. \"I\'d\nlove to come!\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said John Pendleton, gently.\n\n\nAfter supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told\nNancy all about Mr. John Pendleton\'s wonderful carved box, and the still\nmore wonderful things it contained.\n\n\"And ter think,\" sighed Nancy, \"that he SHOWED ye all them things, and\ntold ye about \'em like that--him that\'s so cross he never talks ter no\none--no one!\"\n\n\"Oh, but he isn\'t cross, Nancy, only outside,\" demurred Pollyanna, with\nquick loyalty. \"I don\'t see why everybody thinks he\'s so bad, either.\nThey wouldn\'t, if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly doesn\'t like him\nvery well. She wouldn\'t send the jelly to him, you know, and she was so\nafraid he\'d think she did send it!\"\n\n\"Probably she didn\'t call him no duty,\" shrugged Nancy. \"But what beats\nme is how he happened ter take ter you so, Miss Pollyanna--meanin\' no\noffence ter you, of course--but he ain\'t the sort o\' man what gen\'rally\ntakes ter kids; he ain\'t, he ain\'t.\"\n\nPollyanna smiled happily.\n\n\"But he did, Nancy,\" she nodded, \"only I reckon even he didn\'t want\nto--ALL the time. Why, only to-day he owned up that one time he\njust felt he never wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of\nsomething he wanted to forget. But afterwards--\"\n\n\"What\'s that?\" interrupted Nancy, excitedly. \"He said you reminded him\nof something he wanted to forget?\"\n\n\"Yes. But afterwards--\"\n\n\"What was it?\" Nancy was eagerly insistent.\n\n\"He didn\'t tell me. He just said it was something.\"\n\n\"THE MYSTERY!\" breathed Nancy, in an awestruck voice. \"That\'s why he\ntook to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna! Why, that\'s just\nlike a book--I\'ve read lots of \'em; \'Lady Maud\'s Secret,\' and \'The Lost\nHeir,\' and \'Hidden for Years\'--all of \'em had mysteries and things just\nlike this. My stars and stockings! Just think of havin\' a book lived\nright under yer nose like this an\' me not knowin\' it all this time! Now\ntell me everythin\'--everythin\' he said, Miss Pollyanna, there\'s a dear!\nNo wonder he took ter you; no wonder--no wonder!\"\n\n\"But he didn\'t,\" cried Pollyanna, \"not till _I_ talked to HIM, first.\nAnd he didn\'t even know who I was till I took the calf\'s-foot jelly, and\nhad to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn\'t send it, and--\"\n\nNancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly.\n\n\"Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know--I KNOW I know!\" she exulted\nrapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna\'s side again.\n\"Tell me--now think, and answer straight and true,\" she urged excitedly.\n\"It was after he found out you was Miss Polly\'s niece that he said he\ndidn\'t ever want ter see ye again, wa\'n\'t it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this\nto-day.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" triumphed Nancy. \"And Miss Polly wouldn\'t send the\njelly herself, would she?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"And you told him she didn\'t send it?\"\n\n\"Why, yes; I--\"\n\n\"And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you\nwas her niece. He did that, didn\'t he?\"\n\n\"Why, y-yes; he did act a little queer--over that jelly,\" admitted\nPollyanna, with a thoughtful frown.\n\nNancy drew a long sigh.\n\n\"Then I\'ve got it, sure! Now listen. MR. JOHN PENDLETON WAS MISS POLLY\nHARRINGTON\'S LOVER!\" she announced impressively, but with a furtive\nglance over her shoulder.\n\n\"Why, Nancy, he couldn\'t be! She doesn\'t like him,\" objected Pollyanna.\n\nNancy gave her a scornful glance.\n\n\"Of course she don\'t! THAT\'S the quarrel!\"\n\nPollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy\nhappily settled herself to tell the story.\n\n\"It\'s like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had\nhad a lover once. I didn\'t believe it. I couldn\'t--her and a lover! But\nMr. Tom said she had, and that he was livin\' now right in this town. And\nNOW I know, of course. It\'s John Pendleton. Hain\'t he got a mystery in\nhis life? Don\'t he shut himself up in that grand house alone, and never\nspeak ter no one? Didn\'t he act queer when he found out you was Miss\nPolly\'s niece? And now hain\'t he owned up that you remind him of\nsomethin\' he wants ter forget? Just as if ANYBODY couldn\'t see \'twas\nMiss Polly!--an\' her sayin\' she wouldn\'t send him no jelly, too. Why,\nMiss Pollyanna, it\'s as plain as the nose on yer face; it is, it is!\"\n\n\"Oh-h!\" breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. \"But, Nancy, I\nshould think if they loved each other they\'d make up some time. Both\nof \'em all alone, so, all these years. I should think they\'d be glad to\nmake up!\"\n\nNancy sniffed disdainfully.\n\n\"I guess maybe you don\'t know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You\nain\'t big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o\' folks in the\nworld that wouldn\'t have no use for that \'ere \'glad game\' o\' your\'n,\nit\'d be a pair o\' quarrellin\' lovers; and that\'s what they be. Ain\'t he\ncross as sticks, most gen\'rally?--and ain\'t she--\"\n\nNancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about\nwhom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.\n\n\"I ain\'t sayin\', though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty\nslick piece of business if you could GET \'em ter playin\' it--so they\nWOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn\'t folks stare some--Miss\nPolly and him! I guess, though, there ain\'t much chance, much chance!\"\n\nPollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later,\nher face was very thoughtful.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS\n\nAs the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the\ngreat house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her\nvisits were really a success. Not but that the man seemed to want her\nthere--he sent for her, indeed, frequently; but that when she was\nthere, he seemed scarcely any the happier for her presence--at least, so\nPollyanna thought.\n\nHe talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and\nbeautiful things--books, pictures, and curios. But he still fretted\naudibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under the rules\nand \"regulatings\" of the unwelcome members of his household. He did,\nindeed, seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna\ntalked, Pollyanna liked to talk--but she was never sure that she would\nnot look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white, hurt\nlook that always pained her; and she was never sure which--if any--of\nher words had brought it there. As for telling him the \"glad game,\" and\ntrying to get him to play it--Pollyanna had never seen the time yet when\nshe thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice tried to\ntell him; but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of what\nher father had said--John Pendleton had on each occasion turned the\nconversation abruptly to another subject.\n\nPollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Polly\'s\none-time lover; and with all the strength of her loving, loyal heart,\nshe wished she could in some way bring happiness into their to her\nmind--miserably lonely lives.\n\nJust how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She talked\nto Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely,\nsometimes irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually\nstern lips. She talked to her aunt about Mr. Pendleton--or rather, she\ntried to talk to her about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly\nwould not listen--long. She always found something else to talk\nabout. She frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of\nothers--of Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this, though, to\nthe fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun parlor\nwith the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders.\nAunt Polly, indeed, seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as\nPollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house.\n\n\"If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,\" Aunt Polly\nsaid.\n\n\"Shall you? Then I\'m going to be worse,\" gurgled Pollyanna. \"I\'d love to\nhave Dr. Chilton come to see me!\"\n\nShe wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt\'s face.\n\n\"It will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna,\" Miss Polly said sternly. \"Dr.\nChilton is not our family physician. I shall send for Dr. Warren--if you\nare worse.\"\n\nPollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. Warren was not summoned.\n\n\"And I\'m so glad, too,\" Pollyanna said to her aunt that evening. \"Of\ncourse I like Dr. Warren, and all that; but I like Dr. Chilton better,\nand I\'m afraid he\'d feel hurt if I didn\'t have him. You see, he wasn\'t\nreally to blame, after all, that he happened to see you when I\'d dressed\nyou up so pretty that day, Aunt Polly,\" she finished wistfully.\n\n\"That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr.\nChilton--or his feelings,\" reproved Miss Polly, decisively.\n\nPollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes;\nthen she sighed:\n\n\"I just love to see you when your cheeks are pink like that, Aunt Polly;\nbut I would so like to fix your hair. If--Why, Aunt Polly!\" But her aunt\nwas already out of sight down the hall.\n\n\nIt was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, making an early morning\ncall on John Pendleton, found the flaming band of blue and gold and\ngreen edged with red and violet lying across his pillow. She stopped\nshort in awed delight.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, it\'s a baby rainbow--a real rainbow come in to\npay you a visit!\" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together softly.\n\"Oh--oh--oh, how pretty it is! But how DID it get in?\" she cried.\n\nThe man laughed a little grimly: John Pendleton was particularly out of\nsorts with the world this morning.\n\n\"Well, I suppose it \'got in\' through the bevelled edge of that glass\nthermometer in the window,\" he said wearily. \"The sun shouldn\'t strike\nit at all but it does in the morning.\"\n\n\"Oh, but it\'s so pretty, Mr. Pendleton! And does just the sun do that?\nMy! if it was mine I\'d have it hang in the sun all day long!\"\n\n\"Lots of good you\'d get out of the thermometer, then,\" laughed the man.\n\"How do you suppose you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was,\nif the thermometer hung in the sun all day?\"\n\n\"I shouldn\'t care,\" breathed Pollyanna, her fascinated eyes on the\nbrilliant band of colors across the pillow. \"Just as if anybody\'d care\nwhen they were living all the time in a rainbow!\"\n\nThe man laughed. He was watching Pollyanna\'s rapt face a little\ncuriously. Suddenly a new thought came to him. He touched the bell at\nhis side.\n\n\"Nora,\" he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door, \"bring\nme one of the big brass candle-sticks from the mantel in the front\ndrawing-room.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed. In a minute\nshe had returned. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she\nadvanced wonderingly toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants\nencircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand.\n\n\"Thank you. You may set it here on the stand,\" directed the man. \"Now\nget a string and fasten it to the sash-curtain fixtures of that window\nthere. Take down the sash-curtain, and let the string reach straight\nacross the window from side to side. That will be all. Thank you,\" he\nsaid, when she had carried out his directions.\n\nAs she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering\nPollyanna.\n\n\"Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.\"\n\nWith both hands she brought it; and in a moment he was slipping off the\npendants, one by one, until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by\nside, on the bed.\n\n\"Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string\nNora fixed across the window. If you really WANT to live in a rainbow--I\ndon\'t see but we\'ll have to have a rainbow for you to live in!\"\n\nPollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window\nbefore she saw a little of what was going to happen. She was so excited\nthen she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up\nthe rest. But at last her task was finished, and she stepped back with a\nlow cry of delight.\n\nIt had become a fairyland--that sumptuous, but dreary bedroom.\nEverywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange,\ngold and blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed\nitself, were aflame with shimmering bits of color.\n\n\"Oh, oh, oh, how lovely!\" breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly.\n\"I just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, don\'t\nyou?\" she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not\nknow what she was talking about. \"Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those\nthings! How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow\nand--lots of folks. I reckon THEN they\'d be glad all right! Why, I think\neven Aunt Polly\'d get so glad she couldn\'t help banging doors if she\nlived in a rainbow like that. Don\'t you?\"\n\nMr. Pendleton laughed.\n\n\"Well, from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I\nthink it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight\nto--to make her bang many doors--for gladness. But come, now, really,\nwhat do you mean?\"\n\nPollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long breath.\n\n\"Oh, I forgot. You don\'t know about the game. I remember now.\"\n\n\"Suppose you tell me, then.\"\n\nAnd this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from\nthe very first--from the crutches that should have been a doll. As she\ntalked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the\ndancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlit\nwindow.\n\n\"And that\'s all,\" she sighed, when she had finished. \"And now you know\nwhy I said the sun was trying to play it--that game.\"\n\nFor a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said\nunsteadily:\n\n\"Perhaps; but I\'m thinking that the very finest prism of them all is\nyourself, Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I don\'t show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun\nshines through me, Mr. Pendleton!\"\n\n\"Don\'t you?\" smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face,\nwondered why there were tears in his eyes.\n\n\"No,\" she said. Then, after a minute she added mournfully: \"I\'m afraid,\nMr. Pendleton, the sun doesn\'t make anything but freckles out of me.\nAunt Polly says it DOES make them!\"\n\nThe man laughed a little; and again Pollyanna looked at him: the laugh\nhad sounded almost like a sob.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING\n\nPollyanna entered school in September. Preliminary examinations showed\nthat she was well advanced for a girl of her years, and she was soon a\nhappy member of a class of girls and boys her own age.\n\nSchool, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna,\ncertainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They\nwere soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna\nconfessed that going to school WAS living, after all--though she had had\nher doubts before.\n\nIn spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her\nold friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of\ncourse; but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton,\nof them all, however, was the most dissatisfied.\n\nOne Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it.\n\n\"See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me?\" he\nasked, a little impatiently. \"I don\'t see anything of you, nowadays.\"\n\nPollyanna laughed--Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man!\n\n\"I thought you didn\'t like to have folks \'round,\" she said.\n\nHe made a wry face.\n\n\"Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of\nyours. Now I\'m glad to be waited on, hand and foot! Never mind, I\'ll\nbe on my own two feet yet, one of these days; then I\'ll see who steps\naround,\" he finished, picking up one of the crutches at his side and\nshaking it playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great\nlibrary to-day.\n\n\"Oh, but you aren\'t really glad at all for things; you just SAY you\nare,\" pouted Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog, dozing before the fire.\n\"You know you don\'t play the game right EVER, Mr. Pendleton--you know\nyou don\'t!\"\n\nThe man\'s face grew suddenly very grave.\n\n\"That\'s why I want you, little girl--to help me play it. Will you come?\"\n\nPollyanna turned in surprise.\n\n\"Mr. Pendleton, you don\'t really mean--that?\"\n\n\"But I do. I want you. Will you come?\"\n\nPollyanna looked distressed.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can\'t--you know I can\'t. Why, I\'m--Aunt Polly\'s!\"\n\nA quick something crossed the man\'s face that Pollyanna could not quite\nunderstand. His head came up almost fiercely.\n\n\"You\'re no more hers than--Perhaps she would let you come to me,\" he\nfinished more gently. \"Would you come--if she did?\"\n\nPollyanna frowned in deep thought.\n\n\"But Aunt Polly has been so--good to me,\" she began slowly; \"and she\ntook me when I didn\'t have anybody left but the Ladies\' Aid, and--\"\n\nAgain that spasm of something crossed the man\'s face; but this time,\nwhen he spoke, his voice was low and very sad.\n\n\"Pollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring\nher, some day, to this house. I pictured how happy we\'d be together in\nour home all the long years to come.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy.\n\n\"But--well, I didn\'t bring her here. Never mind why. I just didn\'t\nthat\'s all. And ever since then this great gray pile of stone has been\na house--never a home. It takes a woman\'s hand and heart, or a child\'s\npresence, to make a home, Pollyanna; and I have not had either. Now will\nyou come, my dear?\"\n\nPollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined.\n\n\"Mr. Pendleton, you--you mean that you wish you--you had had that\nwoman\'s hand and heart all this time?\"\n\n\"Why, y-yes, Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"Oh, I\'m so glad! Then it\'s all right,\" sighed the little girl. \"Now you\ncan take us both, and everything will be lovely.\"\n\n\"Take--you--both?\" repeated the man, dazedly.\n\nA faint doubt crossed Pollyanna\'s countenance.\n\n\"Well, of course, Aunt Polly isn\'t won over, yet; but I\'m sure she will\nbe if you tell it to her just as you did to me, and then we\'d both come,\nof course.\"\n\nA look of actual terror leaped to the man\'s eyes.\n\n\"Aunt Polly come--HERE!\"\n\nPollyanna\'s eyes widened a little.\n\n\"Would you rather go THERE?\" she asked. \"Of course the house isn\'t quite\nso pretty, but it\'s nearer--\"\n\n\"Pollyanna, what ARE you talking about?\" asked the man, very gently now.\n\n\"Why, about where we\'re going to live, of course,\" rejoined Pollyanna,\nin obvious surprise. \"I THOUGHT you meant here, at first. You said it\nwas here that you had wanted Aunt Polly\'s hand and heart all these years\nto make a home, and--\"\n\nAn inarticulate cry came from the man\'s throat. He raised his hand and\nbegan to speak; but the next moment he dropped his hand nervelessly at\nhis side.\n\n\"The doctor, sir,\" said the maid in the doorway.\n\nPollyanna rose at once.\n\nJohn Pendleton turned to her feverishly.\n\n\"Pollyanna, for Heaven\'s sake, say nothing of what I asked you--yet,\" he\nbegged, in a low voice. Pollyanna dimpled into a sunny smile.\n\n\"Of course not! Just as if I didn\'t know you\'d rather tell her\nyourself!\" she called back merrily over her shoulder.\n\nJohn Pendleton fell limply back in his chair.\n\n\"Why, what\'s up?\" demanded the doctor, a minute later, his fingers on\nhis patient\'s galloping pulse.\n\nA whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton\'s lips.\n\n\"Overdose of your--tonic, I guess,\" he laughed, as he noted the doctor\'s\neyes following Pollyanna\'s little figure down the driveway.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING\n\nSunday mornings Pollyanna usually attended church and Sunday school.\nSunday afternoons she frequently went for a walk with Nancy. She had\nplanned one for the day after her Saturday afternoon visit to Mr. John\nPendleton; but on the way home from Sunday school Dr. Chilton overtook\nher in his gig, and brought his horse to a stop.\n\n\"Suppose you let me drive you home, Pollyanna,\" he suggested. \"I want\nto speak to you a minute. I, was just driving out to your place to\ntell you,\" he went on, as Pollyanna settled herself at his side.\n\"Mr. Pendleton sent a special request for you to go to see him this\nafternoon, SURE. He says it\'s very important.\"\n\nPollyanna nodded happily.\n\n\"Yes, it is, I know. I\'ll go.\"\n\nThe doctor eyed her with some surprise.\n\n\"I\'m not sure I shall let you, after all,\" he declared, his eyes\ntwinkling. \"You seemed more upsetting than soothing yesterday, young\nlady.\"\n\nPollyanna laughed.\n\n\"Oh, it wasn\'t me, truly--not really, you know; not so much as it was\nAunt Polly.\"\n\nThe doctor turned with a quick start.\n\n\"Your--aunt!\" he ejaculated.\n\nPollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat.\n\n\"Yes. And it\'s so exciting and lovely, just like a story, you know.\nI--I\'m going to tell you,\" she burst out, with sudden decision. \"He\nsaid not to mention it; but he wouldn\'t mind your knowing, of course. He\nmeant not to mention it to HER.\"\n\n\"HER?\"\n\n\"Yes; Aunt Polly. And, of course he WOULD want to tell her himself\ninstead of having me do it--lovers, so!\"\n\n\"Lovers!\" As the doctor said the word, the horse started violently, as\nif the hand that held the reins had given them a sharp jerk.\n\n\"Yes,\" nodded Pollyanna, happily. \"That\'s the story-part, you see. I\ndidn\'t know it till Nancy told me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years\nago, and they quarrelled. She didn\'t know who it was at first. But we\'ve\nfound out now. It\'s Mr. Pendleton, you know.\"\n\nThe doctor relaxed suddenly, The hand holding the reins fell limply to\nhis lap.\n\n\"Oh! No; I--didn\'t know,\" he said quietly.\n\nPollyanna hurried on--they were nearing the Harrington homestead.\n\n\"Yes; and I\'m so glad now. It\'s come out lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked\nme to come and live with him, but of course I wouldn\'t leave Aunt Polly\nlike that--after she\'d been so good to me. Then he told me all about\nthe woman\'s hand and heart that he used to want, and I found out that he\nwanted it now; and I was so glad! For of course if he wants to make up\nthe quarrel, everything will be all right now, and Aunt Polly and I will\nboth go to live there, or else he\'ll come to live with us. Of course\nAunt Polly doesn\'t know yet, and we haven\'t got everything settled; so I\nsuppose that is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure.\"\n\nThe doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips.\n\n\"Yes; I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendleton does--want to see you,\nPollyanna,\" he nodded, as he pulled his horse to a stop before the door.\n\n\"There\'s Aunt Polly now in the window,\" cried Pollyanna; then, a second\nlater: \"Why, no, she isn\'t--but I thought I saw her!\"\n\n\"No; she isn\'t there--now,\" said the doctor, His lips had suddenly lost\ntheir smile.\n\nPollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that\nafternoon.\n\n\"Pollyanna,\" he began at once. \"I\'ve been trying all night to puzzle\nout what you meant by all that, yesterday--about my wanting your Aunt\nPolly\'s hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean?\"\n\n\"Why, because you were lovers, you know once; and I was so glad you\nstill felt that way now.\"\n\n\"Lovers!--your Aunt Polly and I?\"\n\nAt the obvious surprise in the man\'s voice, Pollyanna opened wide her\neyes.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!\"\n\nThe man gave a short little laugh.\n\n\"Indeed! Well, I\'m afraid I shall have to say that Nancy--didn\'t know.\"\n\n\"Then you--weren\'t lovers?\" Pollyanna\'s voice was tragic with dismay.\n\n\"Never!\"\n\n\"And it ISN\'T all coming out like a book?\"\n\nThere was no answer. The man\'s eyes were moodily fixed out the window.\n\n\"O dear! And it was all going so splendidly,\" almost sobbed Pollyanna.\n\"I\'d have been so glad to come--with Aunt Polly.\"\n\n\"And you won\'t--now?\" The man asked the question without turning his\nhead.\n\n\"Of course not! I\'m Aunt Polly\'s.\"\n\nThe man turned now, almost fiercely.\n\n\"Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were--your mother\'s. And--it was\nyour mother\'s hand and heart that I wanted long years ago.\"\n\n\"My mother\'s!\"\n\n\"Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it\'s better, after all,\nthat I do--now.\" John Pendleton\'s face had grown very white. He\nwas speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and\nfrightened, and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. \"I loved\nyour mother; but she--didn\'t love me. And after a time she went away\nwith--your father. I did not know until then how much I did--care. The\nwhole world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers, and--But,\nnever mind. For long years I have been a cross, crabbed, unlovable,\nunloved old man--though I\'m not nearly sixty, yet, Pollyanna. Then,\nOne day, like one of the prisms that you love so well, little girl, you\ndanced into my life, and flecked my dreary old world with dashes of the\npurple and gold and scarlet of your own bright cheeriness. I found out,\nafter a time, who you were, and--and I thought then I never wanted to\nsee you again. I didn\'t want to be reminded of--your mother. But--you\nknow how that came out. I just had to have you come. And now I want you\nalways. Pollyanna, won\'t you come NOW?\"\n\n\"But, Mr. Pendleton, I--There\'s Aunt Polly!\" Pollyanna\'s eyes were\nblurred with tears.\n\nThe man made an impatient gesture.\n\n\"What about me? How do you suppose I\'m going to be \'glad\' about\nanything--without you? Why, Pollyanna, it\'s only since you came that\nI\'ve been even half glad to live! But if I had you for my own little\ngirl, I\'d be glad for--anything; and I\'d try to make you glad, too, my\ndear. You shouldn\'t have a wish ungratified. All my money, to the last\ncent, should go to make you happy.\"\n\nPollyanna looked shocked.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I\'d let you spend it on me--all that money\nyou\'ve saved for the heathen!\"\n\nA dull red came to the man\'s face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna\nwas still talking.\n\n\"Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as you have doesn\'t need me\nto make you glad about things. You\'re making other folks so glad giving\nthem things that you just can\'t help being glad yourself! Why, look\nat those prisms you gave Mrs. Snow and me, and the gold piece you gave\nNancy on her birthday, and--\"\n\n\"Yes, yes--never mind about all that,\" interrupted the man. His face\nwas very, very red now--and no wonder, perhaps: it was not for \"giving\nthings\" that John Pendleton had been best known in the past. \"That\'s all\nnonsense. \'Twasn\'t much, anyhow--but what there was, was because of you.\nYOU gave those things; not I! Yes, you did,\" he repeated, in answer to\nthe shocked denial in her face. \"And that only goes to prove all the\nmore how I need you, little girl,\" he added, his voice softening into\ntender pleading once more. \"If ever, ever I am to play the \'glad game,\'\nPollyanna, you\'ll have to come and play it with me.\"\n\nThe little girl\'s forehead puckered into a wistful frown.\n\n\"Aunt Polly has been so good to me,\" she began; but the man interrupted\nher sharply. The old irritability had come back to his face. Impatience\nwhich would brook no opposition had been a part of John Pendleton\'s\nnature too long to yield very easily now to restraint.\n\n\"Of course she\'s been good to you! But she doesn\'t want you, I\'ll\nwarrant, half so much as I do,\" he contested.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Pendleton, she\'s glad, I know, to have--\"\n\n\"Glad!\" interrupted the man, thoroughly losing his patience now. \"I\'ll\nwager Miss Polly doesn\'t know how to be glad--for anything! Oh, she does\nher duty, I know. She\'s a very DUTIFUL woman. I\'ve had experience with\nher \'duty,\' before. I\'ll acknowledge we haven\'t been the best of friends\nfor the last fifteen or twenty years. But I know her. Every one knows\nher--and she isn\'t the \'glad\' kind, Pollyanna. She doesn\'t know how to\nbe. As for your coming to me--you just ask her and see if she won\'t let\nyou come. And, oh, little girl, little girl, I want you so!\" he finished\nbrokenly.\n\nPollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh.\n\n\"All right. I\'ll ask her,\" she said wistfully. \"Of course I don\'t mean\nthat I wouldn\'t like to live here with you, Mr. Pendleton, but--\" She\ndid not complete her sentence. There was a moment\'s silence, then she\nadded: \"Well, anyhow, I\'m glad I didn\'t tell her yesterday;--\'cause then\nI supposed SHE was wanted, too.\"\n\nJohn Pendleton smiled grimly.\n\n\"Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn\'t mention\nit--yesterday.\"\n\n\"I didn\'t--only to the doctor; and of course he doesn\'t count.\"\n\n\"The doctor!\" cried John Pendleton, turning quickly.\n\"Not--Dr.--Chilton?\"\n\n\"Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me to-day, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, of all the--\" muttered the man, falling back in his chair. Then\nhe sat up with sudden interest. \"And what did Dr. Chilton say?\" he\nasked.\n\nPollyanna frowned thoughtfully.\n\n\"Why, I don\'t remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well\nimagine you did want to see me.\"\n\n\"Oh, did he, indeed!\" answered John Pendleton. And Pollyanna wondered\nwhy he gave that sudden queer little laugh.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI. A QUESTION ANSWERED\n\nThe sky was darkening fast with what appeared to be an approaching\nthunder shower when Pollyanna hurried down the hill from John\nPendleton\'s house. Half-way home she met Nancy with an umbrella. By that\ntime, however, the clouds had shifted their position and the shower was\nnot so imminent.\n\n\"Guess it\'s goin\' \'round ter the north,\" announced Nancy, eyeing the sky\ncritically. \"I thought \'twas, all the time, but Miss Polly wanted me ter\ncome with this. She was WORRIED about ye!\"\n\n\"Was she?\" murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, eyeing the clouds in her\nturn.\n\nNancy sniffed a little.\n\n\"You don\'t seem ter notice what I said,\" she observed aggrievedly. \"I\nsaid yer aunt was WORRIED about ye!\"\n\n\"Oh,\" sighed Pollyanna, remembering suddenly the question she was so\nsoon to ask her aunt. \"I\'m sorry. I didn\'t mean to scare her.\"\n\n\"Well, I\'m glad,\" retorted Nancy, unexpectedly. \"I am, I am.\"\n\nPollyanna stared.\n\n\"GLAD that Aunt Polly was scared about me! Why, Nancy, THAT isn\'t the\nway to play the game--to be glad for things like that!\" she objected.\n\n\"There wa\'n\'t no game in it,\" retorted Nancy. \"Never thought of it. YOU\ndon\'t seem ter sense what it means ter have Miss Polly WORRIED about ye,\nchild!\"\n\n\"Why, it means worried--and worried is horrid--to feel,\" maintained\nPollyanna. \"What else can it mean?\"\n\nNancy tossed her head.\n\n\"Well, I\'ll tell ye what it means. It means she\'s at last gettin\' down\nsomewheres near human--like folks; an\' that she ain\'t jest doin\' her\nduty by ye all the time.\"\n\n\"Why, Nancy,\" demurred the scandalized Pollyanna, \"Aunt Polly always\ndoes her duty. She--she\'s a very dutiful woman!\" Unconsciously Pollyanna\nrepeated John Pendleton\'s words of half an hour before.\n\nNancy chuckled.\n\n\"You\'re right she is--and she always was, I guess! But she\'s somethin\'\nmore, now, since you came.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown.\n\n\"There, that\'s what I was going to ask you, Nancy,\" she sighed. \"Do you\nthink Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mind--if if I wasn\'t\nhere any more?\"\n\nNancy threw a quick look into the little girl\'s absorbed face. She had\nexpected to be asked this question long before, and she had dreaded\nit. She had wondered how she should answer it--how she could answer it\nhonestly without cruelly hurting the questioner. But now, NOW, in\nthe face of the new suspicions that had become convictions by the\nafternoon\'s umbrella-sending--Nancy only welcomed the question with open\narms. She was sure that, with a clean conscience to-day, she could set\nthe love-hungry little girl\'s heart at rest.\n\n\"Likes ter have ye here? Would she miss ye if ye wa\'n\'t here?\" cried\nNancy, indignantly. \"As if that wa\'n\'t jest what I was tellin\' of ye!\nDidn\'t she send me posthaste with an umbrella \'cause she see a little\ncloud in the sky? Didn\'t she make me tote yer things all down-stairs, so\nyou could have the pretty room you wanted? Why, Miss Pollyanna, when ye\nremember how at first she hated ter have--\"\n\nWith a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up just in time.\n\n\"And it ain\'t jest things I can put my fingers on, neither,\" rushed on\nNancy, breathlessly. \"It\'s little ways she has, that shows how you\'ve\nbeen softenin\' her up an\' mellerin\' her down--the cat, and the dog, and\nthe way she speaks ter me, and oh, lots o\' things. Why, Miss Pollyanna,\nthere ain\'t no tellin\' how she\'d miss ye--if ye wa\'n\'t here,\" finished\nNancy, speaking with an enthusiastic certainty that was meant to hide\nthe perilous admission she had almost made before. Even then she was not\nquite prepared for the sudden joy that illumined Pollyanna\'s face.\n\n\"Oh, Nancy, I\'m so glad--glad--glad! You don\'t know how glad I am that\nAunt Polly--wants me!\"\n\n\"As if I\'d leave her now!\" thought Pollyanna, as she climbed the stairs\nto her room a little later. \"I always knew I wanted to live with Aunt\nPolly--but I reckon maybe I didn\'t know quite how much I wanted Aunt\nPolly--to want to live with ME!\"\n\nThe task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an\neasy one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John\nPendleton, and she was very sorry for him--because he seemed to be so\nsorry for himself. She was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that\nhad made him so unhappy; and she was grieved that it had been because of\nher mother that he had spent those dreary years. She pictured the great\ngray house as it would be after its master was well again, with its\nsilent rooms, its littered floors, its disordered desk; and her heart\nached for his loneliness. She wished that somewhere, some one might be\nfound who--And it was at this point that she sprang to her feet with a\nlittle cry of joy at the thought that had come to her.\n\nAs soon as she could, after that, she hurried up the hill to John\nPendleton\'s house; and in due time she found herself in the great dim\nlibrary, with John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, thin\nhands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and his faithful little dog\nat his feet.\n\n\"Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the \'glad game\' with me, all the rest of\nmy life?\" asked the man, gently.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" cried Pollyanna. \"I\'ve thought of the very gladdest kind of a\nthing for you to do, and--\"\n\n\"With--YOU?\" asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern at\nthe corners.\n\n\"N-no; but--\"\n\n\"Pollyanna, you aren\'t going to say no!\" interrupted a voice deep with\nemotion.\n\n\"I--I\'ve got to, Mr. Pendleton; truly I have. Aunt Polly--\"\n\n\"Did she REFUSE--to let you--come?\"\n\n\"I--I didn\'t ask her,\" stammered the little girl, miserably.\n\n\"Pollyanna!\"\n\nPollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved\ngaze of her friend.\n\n\"So you didn\'t even ask her!\"\n\n\"I couldn\'t, sir--truly,\" faltered Pollyanna. \"You see, I found\nout--without asking. Aunt Polly WANTS me with her, and--and I want to\nstay, too,\" she confessed bravely. \"You don\'t know how good she\'s been\nto me; and--and I think, really, sometimes she\'s beginning to be glad\nabout things--lots of things. And you know she never used to be. You\nsaid it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I COULDN\'T leave Aunt Polly--now!\"\n\nThere was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate\nbroke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke.\n\n\"No, Pollyanna; I see. You couldn\'t leave her--now,\" he said. \"I won\'t\nask you--again.\" The last word was so low it was almost inaudible; but\nPollyanna heard.\n\n\"Oh, but you don\'t know about the rest of it,\" she reminded him eagerly.\n\"There\'s the very gladdest thing you CAN do--truly there is!\"\n\n\"Not for me, Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, for you. You SAID it. You said only a--a woman\'s hand and\nheart or a child\'s presence could make a home. And I can get it for\nyou--a child\'s presence;--not me, you know, but another one.\"\n\n\"As if I would have any but you!\" resented an indignant voice.\n\n\"But you will--when you know; you\'re so kind and good! Why, think of the\nprisms and the gold pieces, and all that money you save for the heathen,\nand--\"\n\n\"Pollyanna!\" interrupted the man, savagely. \"Once for all let us end\nthat nonsense! I\'ve tried to tell you half a dozen times before. There\nis no money for the heathen. I never sent a penny to them in my life.\nThere!\"\n\nHe lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he expected--the\ngrieved disappointment of Pollyanna\'s eyes. To his amazement, however,\nthere was neither grief nor disappointment in Pollyanna\'s eyes. There\nwas only surprised joy.\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" she cried, clapping her hands. \"I\'m so glad! That is,\" she\ncorrected, coloring distressfully, \"I don\'t mean that I\'m not sorry for\nthe heathen, only just now I can\'t help being glad that you don\'t want\nthe little India boys, because all the rest have wanted them. And so I\'m\nglad you\'d rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you\'ll take him!\"\n\n\"Take--WHO?\"\n\n\"Jimmy Bean. He\'s the \'child\'s presence,\' you know; and he\'ll be so glad\nto be it. I had to tell him last week that even my Ladies\' Aid out West\nwouldn\'t take him, and he was so disappointed. But now--when he hears of\nthis--he\'ll be so glad!\"\n\n\"Will he? Well, I won\'t,\" ejaculated the man, decisively. \"Pollyanna,\nthis is sheer nonsense!\"\n\n\"You don\'t mean--you won\'t take him?\"\n\n\"I certainly do mean just that.\"\n\n\"But he\'d be a lovely child\'s presence,\" faltered Pollyanna. She was\nalmost crying now. \"And you COULDN\'T be lonesome--with Jimmy \'round.\"\n\n\"I don\'t doubt it,\" rejoined the man; \"but--I think I prefer the\nlonesomeness.\"\n\nIt was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly\nremembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin\naggrievedly.\n\n\"Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn\'t be better than that old\ndead skeleton you keep somewhere; but I think it would!\"\n\n\"SKELETON?\"\n\n\"Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, somewhere.\"\n\n\"Why, what--\" Suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed. He\nlaughed very heartily indeed--so heartily that Pollyanna began to cry\nfrom pure nervousness. When he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very\npromptly. His face grew grave at once.\n\n\"Pollyanna, I suspect you are right--more right than you know,\" he said\ngently. \"In fact, I KNOW that a \'nice live little boy\' would be far\nbetter than--my skeleton in the closet; only--we aren\'t always willing\nto make the exchange. We are apt to still cling to--our skeletons,\nPollyanna. However, suppose you tell me a little more about this nice\nlittle boy.\" And Pollyanna told him.\n\nPerhaps the laugh cleared the air; or perhaps the pathos of Jimmy Bean\'s\nstory as told by Pollyanna\'s eager little lips touched a heart already\nstrangely softened. At all events, when Pollyanna went home that night\nshe carried with her an invitation for Jimmy Bean himself to call at the\ngreat house with Pollyanna the next Saturday afternoon.\n\n\"And I\'m so glad, and I\'m sure you\'ll like him,\" sighed Pollyanna, as\nshe said good-by. \"I do so want Jimmy Bean to have a home--and folks\nthat care, you know.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII. SERMONS AND WOODBOXES\n\nOn the afternoon that Pollyanna told John Pendleton of Jimmy Bean, the\nRev. Paul Ford climbed the hill and entered the Pendleton Woods, hoping\nthat the hushed beauty of God\'s out-of-doors would still the tumult that\nHis children of men had wrought.\n\nThe Rev. Paul Ford was sick at heart. Month by month, for a year past,\nconditions in the parish under him had been growing worse and worse;\nuntil it seemed that now, turn which way he would, he encountered only\nwrangling, backbiting, scandal, and jealousy. He had argued, pleaded,\nrebuked, and ignored by turns; and always and through all he had\nprayed--earnestly, hopefully. But to-day miserably he was forced to own\nthat matters were no better, but rather worse.\n\nTwo of his deacons were at swords\' points over a silly something\nthat only endless brooding had made of any account. Three of his most\nenergetic women workers had withdrawn from the Ladies\' Aid Society\nbecause a tiny spark of gossip had been fanned by wagging tongues into a\ndevouring flame of scandal. The choir had split over the amount of solo\nwork given to a fanciedly preferred singer. Even the Christian Endeavor\nSociety was in a ferment of unrest owing to open criticism of two of its\nofficers. As to the Sunday school--it had been the resignation of its\nsuperintendent and two of its teachers that had been the last straw, and\nthat had sent the harassed minister to the quiet woods for prayer and\nmeditation.\n\nUnder the green arch of the trees the Rev. Paul Ford faced the thing\nsquarely. To his mind, the crisis had come. Something must be done--and\ndone at once. The entire work of the church was at a standstill. The\nSunday services, the week-day prayer meeting, the missionary teas, even\nthe suppers and socials were becoming less and less well attended. True,\na few conscientious workers were still left. But they pulled at cross\npurposes, usually; and always they showed themselves to be acutely aware\nof the critical eyes all about them, and of the tongues that had nothing\nto do but to talk about what the eyes saw.\n\nAnd because of all this, the Rev. Paul Ford understood very well that he\n(God\'s minister), the church, the town, and even Christianity itself was\nsuffering; and must suffer still more unless--\n\nClearly something must be done, and done at once. But what?\n\nSlowly the minister took from his pocket the notes he had made for his\nnext Sunday\'s sermon. Frowningly he looked at them. His mouth settled\ninto stern lines, as aloud, very impressively, he read the verses on\nwhich he had determined to speak:\n\n\"\'But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut\nup the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves,\nneither suffer ye them that are entering to go in.\'\n\n\"\'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour\nwidows\' houses, and for a pretence make long prayer: therefore ye shall\nreceive the greater damnation.\'\n\n\"\'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of\nmint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the\nlaw, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to\nleave the other undone.\'\"\n\nIt was a bitter denunciation. In the green aisles of the woods, the\nminister\'s deep voice rang out with scathing effect. Even the birds and\nsquirrels seemed hushed into awed silence. It brought to the minister a\nvivid realization of how those words would sound the next Sunday when he\nshould utter them before his people in the sacred hush of the church.\n\nHis people!--they WERE his people. Could he do it? Dare he do it? Dare\nhe not do it? It was a fearful denunciation, even without the words that\nwould follow--his own words. He had prayed and prayed. He had pleaded\nearnestly for help, for guidance. He longed--oh, how earnestly he\nlonged!--to take now, in this crisis, the right step. But was this--the\nright step?\n\nSlowly the minister folded the papers and thrust them back into his\npocket. Then, with a sigh that was almost a moan, he flung himself down\nat the foot of a tree, and covered his face with his hands.\n\nIt was there that Pollyanna, on her way home from the Pendleton house,\nfound him. With a little cry she ran forward.\n\n\"Oh, oh, Mr. Ford! You--YOU haven\'t broken YOUR leg or--or anything,\nhave you?\" she gasped.\n\nThe minister dropped his hands, and looked up quickly. He tried to\nsmile.\n\n\"No, dear--no, indeed! I\'m just--resting.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" sighed Pollyanna, falling back a little. \"That\'s all right, then.\nYou see, Mr. Pendleton HAD broken his leg when I found him--but he was\nlying down, though. And you are sitting up.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am sitting up; and I haven\'t broken anything--that doctors can\nmend.\"\n\nThe last words were very low, but Pollyanna heard them. A swift change\ncrossed her face. Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy.\n\n\"I know what you mean--something plagues you. Father used to feel like\nthat, lots of times. I reckon ministers do--most generally. You see\nthere\'s such a lot depends on \'em, somehow.\"\n\nThe Rev. Paul Ford turned a little wonderingly.\n\n\"Was YOUR father a minister, Pollyanna?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Didn\'t you know? I supposed everybody knew that. He married\nAunt Polly\'s sister, and she was my mother.\"\n\n\"Oh, I understand. But, you see, I haven\'t been here many years, so I\ndon\'t know all the family histories.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir--I mean, no, sir,\" smiled Pollyanna.\n\nThere was a long pause. The minister, still sitting at the foot of the\ntree, appeared to have forgotten Pollyanna\'s presence. He had pulled\nsome papers from his pocket and unfolded them; but he was not looking at\nthem. He was gazing, instead, at a leaf on the ground a little distance\naway--and it was not even a pretty leaf. It was brown and dead.\nPollyanna, looking at him, felt vaguely sorry for him.\n\n\"It--it\'s a nice day,\" she began hopefully.\n\nFor a moment there was no answer; then the minister looked up with a\nstart.\n\n\"What? Oh!--yes, it is a very nice day.\"\n\n\"And \'tisn\'t cold at all, either, even if \'tis October,\" observed\nPollyanna, still more hopefully. \"Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said\nhe didn\'t need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at fires,\ndon\'t you?\"\n\nThere was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently, before\nshe tried again--by a new route.\n\n\"Do You like being a minister?\"\n\nThe Rev. Paul Ford looked up now, very quickly.\n\n\"Do I like--Why, what an odd question! Why do you ask that, my dear?\"\n\n\"Nothing--only the way you looked. It made me think of my father. He\nused to look like that--sometimes.\"\n\n\"Did he?\" The minister\'s voice was polite, but his eyes had gone back to\nthe dried leaf on the ground.\n\n\"Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you if he was glad he was a\nminister.\"\n\nThe man under the tree smiled a little sadly.\n\n\"Well--what did he say?\"\n\n\"Oh, he always said he was, of course, but \'most always he said, too,\nthat he wouldn\'t STAY a minister a minute if \'twasn\'t for the rejoicing\ntexts.\"\n\n\"The--WHAT?\" The Rev. Paul Ford\'s eyes left the leaf and gazed\nwonderingly into Pollyanna\'s merry little face.\n\n\"Well, that\'s what father used to call \'em,\" she laughed. \"Of course the\nBible didn\'t name \'em that. But it\'s all those that begin \'Be glad in\nthe Lord,\' or \'Rejoice greatly,\' or \'Shout for joy,\' and all that,\nyou know--such a lot of \'em. Once, when father felt specially bad, he\ncounted \'em. There were eight hundred of \'em.\"\n\n\"Eight hundred!\"\n\n\"Yes--that told you to rejoice and be glad, you know; that\'s why father\nnamed \'em the \'rejoicing texts.\'\"\n\n\"Oh!\" There was an odd look on the minister\'s face. His eyes had fallen\nto the words on the top paper in his hands--\"But woe unto you, scribes\nand Pharisees, hypocrites!\" \"And so your father--liked those \'rejoicing\ntexts,\'\" he murmured.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" nodded Pollyanna, emphatically. \"He said he felt better right\naway, that first day he thought to count \'em. He said if God took the\ntrouble to tell us eight hundred times to be glad and rejoice, He must\nwant us to do it--SOME. And father felt ashamed that he hadn\'t done it\nmore. After that, they got to be such a comfort to him, you know, when\nthings went wrong; when the Ladies\' Aiders got to fight--I mean, when\nthey DIDN\'T AGREE about something,\" corrected Pollyanna, hastily.\n\"Why, it was those texts, too, father said, that made HIM think of the\ngame--he began with ME on the crutches--but he said \'twas the rejoicing\ntexts that started him on it.\"\n\n\"And what game might that be?\" asked the minister.\n\n\"About finding something in everything to be glad about, you know. As\nI said, he began with me on the crutches.\" And once more Pollyanna\ntold her story--this time to a man who listened with tender eyes and\nunderstanding ears.\n\nA little later Pollyanna and the minister descended the hill, hand in\nhand. Pollyanna\'s face was radiant. Pollyanna loved to talk, and she had\nbeen talking now for some time: there seemed to be so many, many things\nabout the game, her father, and the old home life that the minister\nwanted to know.\n\nAt the foot of the hill their ways parted, and Pollyanna down one road,\nand the minister down another, walked on alone.\n\nIn the Rev. Paul Ford\'s study that evening the minister sat thinking.\nNear him on the desk lay a few loose sheets of paper--his sermon notes.\nUnder the suspended pencil in his fingers lay other sheets of paper,\nblank--his sermon to be. But the minister was not thinking either of\nwhat he had written, or of what he intended to write. In his imagination\nhe was far away in a little Western town with a missionary minister\nwho was poor, sick, worried, and almost alone in the world--but who was\nporing over the Bible to find how many times his Lord and Master had\ntold him to \"rejoice and be glad.\"\n\nAfter a time, with a long sigh, the Rev. Paul Ford roused himself, came\nback from the far Western town, and adjusted the sheets of paper under\nhis hand.\n\n\"Matthew twenty-third; 13--14 and 23,\" he wrote; then, with a gesture of\nimpatience, he dropped his pencil and pulled toward him a magazine left\non the desk by his wife a few minutes before. Listlessly his tired eyes\nturned from paragraph to paragraph until these words arrested them:\n\n\"A father one day said to his son, Tom, who, he knew, had refused to\nfill his mother\'s woodbox that morning: \'Tom, I\'m sure you\'ll be glad to\ngo and bring in some wood for your mother.\' And without a word Tom went.\nWhy? Just because his father showed so plainly that he expected him to\ndo the right thing. Suppose he had said: \'Tom, I overheard what you said\nto your mother this morning, and I\'m ashamed of you. Go at once and fill\nthat woodbox!\' I\'ll warrant that woodbox, would be empty yet, so far as\nTom was concerned!\"\n\nOn and on read the minister--a word here, a line there, a paragraph\nsomewhere else:\n\n\"What men and women need is encouragement. Their natural resisting\npowers should be strengthened, not weakened.... Instead of always\nharping on a man\'s faults, tell him of his virtues. Try to pull him out\nof his rut of bad habits. Hold up to him his better self, his REAL\nself that can dare and do and win out!... The influence of a beautiful,\nhelpful, hopeful character is contagious, and may revolutionize a whole\ntown.... People radiate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If\na man feels kindly and obliging, his neighbors will feel that way, too,\nbefore long. But if he scolds and scowls and criticizes--his neighbors\nwill return scowl for scowl, and add interest!... When you look for\nthe bad, expecting it, you will get it. When you know you will find the\ngood--you will get that.... Tell your son Tom you KNOW he\'ll be glad to\nfill that woodbox--then watch him start, alert and interested!\"\n\nThe minister dropped the paper and lifted his chin. In a moment he was\non his feet, tramping the narrow room back and forth, back and forth.\nLater, some time later, he drew a long breath, and dropped himself in\nthe chair at his desk.\n\n\"God helping me, I\'ll do it!\" he cried softly. \"I\'ll tell all my Toms\nI KNOW they\'ll be glad to fill that woodbox! I\'ll give them work to do,\nand I\'ll make them so full of the very joy of doing it that they won\'t\nhave TIME to look at their neighbors\' woodboxes!\" And he picked up his\nsermon notes, tore straight through the sheets, and cast them from him,\nso that on one side of his chair lay \"But woe unto you,\" and on the\nother, \"scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!\" while across the smooth\nwhite paper before him his pencil fairly flew--after first drawing one\nblack line through Matthew twenty-third; 13--14 and 23.\n\nThus it happened that the Rev. Paul Ford\'s sermon the next Sunday was\na veritable bugle-call to the best that was in every man and woman and\nchild that heard it; and its text was one of Pollyanna\'s shining eight\nhundred:\n\n\"Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, ye righteous, and shout for joy all ye\nthat are upright in heart.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII. AN ACCIDENT\n\nAt Mrs. Snow\'s request, Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton\'s office\nto get the name of a medicine which Mrs. Snow had forgotten. As it\nchanced, Pollyanna had never before seen the inside of Dr. Chilton\'s\noffice.\n\n\"I\'ve never been to your home before! This IS your home, isn\'t it?\" she\nsaid, looking interestedly about her.\n\nThe doctor smiled a little sadly.\n\n\"Yes--such as \'tis,\" he answered, as he wrote something on the pad\nof paper in his hand; \"but it\'s a pretty poor apology for a home,\nPollyanna. They\'re just rooms, that\'s all--not a home.\"\n\nPollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic\nunderstanding.\n\n\"I know. It takes a woman\'s hand and heart, or a child\'s presence to\nmake a home,\" she said.\n\n\"Eh?\" The doctor wheeled about abruptly.\n\n\"Mr. Pendleton told me,\" nodded Pollyanna, again; \"about the woman\'s\nhand and heart, or the child\'s presence, you know. Why don\'t you get a\nwoman\'s hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe you\'d take Jimmy Bean--if\nMr. Pendleton doesn\'t want him.\"\n\nDr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly.\n\n\"So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman\'s hand and heart to make a home,\ndoes he?\" he asked evasively.\n\n\"Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don\'t you, Dr. Chilton?\"\n\n\"Why don\'t I--what?\" The doctor had turned back to his desk.\n\n\"Get a woman\'s hand and heart. Oh--and I forgot.\" Pollyanna\'s face\nshowed suddenly a painful color. \"I suppose I ought to tell you. It\nwasn\'t Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago; and so we--we\naren\'t going there to live. You see, I told you it was--but I made a\nmistake. I hope YOU didn\'t tell any one,\" she finished anxiously.\n\n\"No--I didn\'t tell any one, Pollyanna,\" replied the doctor, a little\nqueerly.\n\n\"Oh, that\'s all right, then,\" sighed Pollyanna in relief. \"You see\nyou\'re the only one I told, and I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of\nfunny when I said I\'d told YOU.\"\n\n\"Did he?\" The doctor\'s lips twitched.\n\n\"Yes. And of course he wouldn\'t want many people to know it--when\n\'twasn\'t true. But why don\'t you get a woman\'s hand and heart, Dr.\nChilton?\"\n\nThere was a moment\'s silence; then very gravely the doctor said:\n\n\"They\'re not always to be had--for the asking, little girl.\"\n\nPollyanna frowned thoughtfully.\n\n\"But I should think you could get \'em,\" she argued. The flattering\nemphasis was unmistakable.\n\n\"Thank you,\" laughed the doctor, with uplifted eyebrows. Then, gravely\nagain: \"I\'m afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite\nso--confident. At least, they--they haven\'t shown themselves to be\nso--obliging,\" he observed.\n\nPollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise.\n\n\"Why, Dr. Chilton, you don\'t mean--you didn\'t try to get somebody\'s hand\nand heart once, like Mr. Pendleton, and--and couldn\'t, did you?\"\n\nThe doctor got to his feet a little abruptly.\n\n\"There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now. Don\'t let other\npeople\'s troubles worry your little head. Suppose you run back now\nto Mrs. Snow. I\'ve written down the name of the medicine, and the\ndirections how she is to take it. Was there anything else?\"\n\nPollyanna shook her head.\n\n\"No, Sir; thank you, Sir,\" she murmured soberly, as she turned toward\nthe door. From the little hallway she called back, her face suddenly\nalight: \"Anyhow, I\'m glad \'twasn\'t my mother\'s hand and heart that you\nwanted and couldn\'t get, Dr. Chilton. Good-by!\"\n\n\nIt was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna,\nhurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe\ndistance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car.\n\nJust what happened, no one could seem to tell afterward. Neither was\nthere any one found who could tell why it happened or who was to blame\nthat it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o\'clock, was borne, limp\nand unconscious, into the little room that was so dear to her. There, by\na white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy she was undressed tenderly\nand put to bed, while from the village, hastily summoned by telephone,\nDr. Warren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could bring him.\n\n\"And ye didn\'t need ter more\'n look at her aunt\'s face,\" Nancy was\nsobbing to Old Tom in the garden, after the doctor had arrived and was\ncloseted in the hushed room; \"ye didn\'t need ter more\'n look at her\naunt\'s face ter see that \'twa\'n\'t no duty that was eatin\' her. Yer hands\ndon\'t shake, and yer eyes don\'t look as if ye was tryin\' ter hold back\nthe Angel o\' Death himself, when you\'re jest doin\' yer DUTY, Mr. Tom\nthey don\'t, they don\'t!\"\n\n\"Is she hurt--bad?\" The old man\'s voice shook.\n\n\"There ain\'t no tellin\',\" sobbed Nancy. \"She lay back that white an\'\nstill she might easy be dead; but Miss Polly said she wa\'n\'t dead--an\'\nMiss Polly had oughter know, if any one would--she kept up such a\nlistenin\' an\' a feelin\' for her heartbeats an\' her breath!\"\n\n\"Couldn\'t ye tell anythin\' what it done to her?--that--that--\" Old Tom\'s\nface worked convulsively.\n\nNancy\'s lips relaxed a little.\n\n\"I wish ye WOULD call it somethin\', Mr. Tom an\' somethin\' good an\'\nstrong, too. Drat it! Ter think of its runnin\' down our little girl! I\nalways hated the evil-smellin\' things, anyhow--I did, I did!\"\n\n\"But where is she hurt?\"\n\n\"I don\'t know, I don\'t know,\" moaned Nancy. \"There\'s a little cut on\nher blessed head, but \'tain\'t bad--that ain\'t--Miss Polly says. She says\nshe\'s afraid it\'s infernally she\'s hurt.\"\n\nA faint flicker came into Old Tom\'s eyes.\n\n\"I guess you mean internally, Nancy,\" he said dryly. \"She\'s hurt\ninfernally, all right--plague take that autymobile!--but I don\'t guess\nMiss Polly\'d be usin\' that word, all the same.\"\n\n\"Eh? Well, I don\'t know, I don\'t know,\" moaned Nancy, with a shake of\nher head as she turned away. \"Seems as if I jest couldn\'t stand it\ntill that doctor gits out o\' there. I wish I had a washin\' ter do--the\nbiggest washin\' I ever see, I do, I do!\" she wailed, wringing her hands\nhelplessly.\n\nEven after the doctor was gone, however, there seemed to be little that\nNancy could tell Mr. Tom. There appeared to be no bones broken, and the\ncut was of slight consequence; but the doctor had looked very grave, had\nshaken his head slowly, and had said that time alone could tell. After\nhe had gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and more drawn\nlooking than before. The patient had not fully recovered consciousness,\nbut at present she seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be\nexpected. A trained nurse had been sent for, and would come that night.\nThat was all. And Nancy turned sobbingly, and went back to her kitchen.\n\nIt was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyanna opened conscious\neyes and realized where she was.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, what\'s the matter? Isn\'t it daytime? Why don\'t I get\nup?\" she cried. \"Why, Aunt Polly, I can\'t get up,\" she moaned, falling\nback on the pillow, after an ineffectual attempt to lift herself.\n\n\"No, dear, I wouldn\'t try--just yet,\" soothed her aunt quickly, but very\nquietly.\n\n\"But what is the matter? Why can\'t I get up?\"\n\nMiss Polly\'s eyes asked an agonized question of the white-capped young\nwoman standing in the window, out of the range of Pollyanna\'s eyes.\n\nThe young woman nodded.\n\n\"Tell her,\" the lips said.\n\nMiss Polly cleared her throat, and tried to swallow the lump that would\nscarcely let her speak.\n\n\"You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last night. But never mind that\nnow. Auntie wants you to rest and go to sleep again.\"\n\n\"Hurt? Oh, yes; I--I ran.\" Pollyanna\'s eyes were dazed. She lifted her\nhand to her forehead. \"Why, it\'s--done up, and it--hurts!\"\n\n\"Yes, dear; but never mind. Just--just rest.\"\n\n\"But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad! My legs feel so--so\nqueer--only they don\'t FEEL--at all!\"\n\nWith an imploring look into the nurse\'s face, Miss Polly struggled to\nher feet, and turned away. The nurse came forward quickly.\n\n\"Suppose you let me talk to you now,\" she began cheerily. \"I\'m sure\nI think it\'s high time we were getting acquainted, and I\'m going to\nintroduce myself. I am Miss Hunt, and I\'ve come to help your aunt take\ncare of you. And the very first thing I\'m going to do is to ask you to\nswallow these little white pills for me.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s eyes grew a bit wild.\n\n\"But I don\'t want to be taken care of--that is, not for long! I want to\nget up. You know I go to school. Can\'t I go to school to-morrow?\"\n\nFrom the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a half-stifled\ncry.\n\n\"To-morrow?\" smiled the nurse, brightly.\n\n\"Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss Pollyanna.\nBut just swallow these little pills for me, please, and we\'ll see what\nTHEY\'LL do.\"\n\n\"All right,\" agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; \"but I MUST go to\nschool day after to-morrow--there are examinations then, you know.\"\n\nShe spoke again, a minute later. She spoke of school, and of the\nautomobile, and of how her head ached; but very soon her voice trailed\ninto silence under the blessed influence of the little white pills she\nhad swallowed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON\n\nPollyanna did not go to school \"to-morrow,\" nor the \"day after\nto-morrow.\" Pollyanna, however, did not realize this, except momentarily\nwhen a brief period of full consciousness sent insistent questions to\nher lips. Pollyanna did not realize anything, in fact, very clearly\nuntil a week had passed; then the fever subsided, the pain lessened\nsomewhat, and her mind awoke to full consciousness. She had then to be\ntold all over again what had occurred.\n\n\"And so it\'s hurt that I am, and not sick,\" she sighed at last. \"Well,\nI\'m glad of that.\"\n\n\"G-glad, Pollyanna?\" asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed.\n\n\"Yes. I\'d so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton\'s than\nlife-long-invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and\nlifelong-invalids don\'t.\"\n\nMiss Polly--who had said nothing whatever about broken legs--got\nsuddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table across the\nroom. She was picking up one object after another now, and putting each\ndown, in an aimless fashion quite unlike her usual decisiveness. Her\nface was not aimless-looking at all, however; it was white and drawn.\n\nOn the bed Pollyanna lay blinking at the dancing band of colors on the\nceiling, which came from one of the prisms in the window.\n\n\"I\'m glad it isn\'t smallpox that ails me, too,\" she murmured\ncontentedly. \"That would be worse than freckles. And I\'m glad \'tisn\'t\nwhooping cough--I\'ve had that, and it\'s horrid--and I\'m glad \'tisn\'t\nappendicitis nor measles, \'cause they\'re catching--measles are, I\nmean--and they wouldn\'t let you stay here.\"\n\n\"You seem to--to be glad for a good many things, my dear,\" faltered Aunt\nPolly, putting her hand to her throat as if her collar bound.\n\nPollyanna laughed softly.\n\n\"I am. I\'ve been thinking of \'em--lots of \'em--all the time I\'ve been\nlooking up at that rainbow. I love rainbows. I\'m so glad Mr. Pendleton\ngave me those prisms! I\'m glad of some things I haven\'t said yet. I\ndon\'t know but I\'m \'most glad I was hurt.\"\n\n\"Pollyanna!\"\n\nPollyanna laughed softly again. She turned luminous eyes on her aunt.\n\"Well, you see, since I have been hurt, you\'ve called me \'dear\' lots of\ntimes--and you didn\'t before. I love to be called \'dear\'--by folks that\nbelong to you, I mean. Some of the Ladies\' Aiders did call me that; and\nof course that was pretty nice, but not so nice as if they had belonged\nto me, like you do. Oh, Aunt Polly, I\'m so glad you belong to me!\"\n\nAunt Polly did not answer. Her hand was at her throat again. Her eyes\nwere full of tears. She had turned away and was hurrying from the room\nthrough the door by which the nurse had just entered.\n\n\nIt was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old Tom, who was cleaning\nharnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild.\n\n\"Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, guess what\'s happened,\" she panted. \"You couldn\'t\nguess in a thousand years--you couldn\'t, you couldn\'t!\"\n\n\"Then I cal\'late I won\'t try,\" retorted the man, grimly, \"specially as\nI hain\'t got more\'n TEN ter live, anyhow, probably. You\'d better tell me\nfirst off, Nancy.\"\n\n\"Well, listen, then. Who do you s\'pose is in the parlor now with the\nmistress? Who, I say?\"\n\nOld Tom shook his head.\n\n\"There\'s no tellin\',\" he declared.\n\n\"Yes, there is. I\'m tellin\'. It\'s--John Pendleton!\"\n\n\"Sho, now! You\'re jokin\', girl.\"\n\n\"Not much I am--an\' me a-lettin\' him in myself--crutches an\' all! An\'\nthe team he come in a-waitin\' this minute at the door for him, jest as\nif he wa\'n\'t the cranky old crosspatch he is, what never talks ter no\none! jest think, Mr. Tom--HIM a-callin\' on HER!\"\n\n\"Well, why not?\" demanded the old man, a little aggressively.\n\nNancy gave him a scornful glance.\n\n\"As if you didn\'t know better\'n me!\" she derided.\n\n\"Eh?\"\n\n\"Oh, you needn\'t be so innercent,\" she retorted with mock indignation;\n\"--you what led me wildgoose chasin\' in the first place!\"\n\n\"What do ye mean?\"\n\nNancy glanced through the open barn door toward the house, and came a\nstep nearer to the old man.\n\n\"Listen! \'Twas you that was tellin\' me Miss Polly had a lover in the\nfirst place, wa\'n\'t it? Well, one day I thinks I finds two and two, and\nI puts \'em tergether an\' makes four. But it turns out ter be five--an\'\nno four at all, at all!\"\n\nWith a gesture of indifference Old Tom turned and fell to work.\n\n\"If you\'re goin\' ter talk ter me, you\'ve got ter talk plain horse\nsense,\" he declared testily. \"I never was no hand for figgers.\"\n\nNancy laughed.\n\n\"Well, it\'s this,\" she explained. \"I heard somethin\' that made me think\nhim an\' Miss Polly was lovers.\"\n\n\"MR. PENDLETON!\" Old Tom straightened up.\n\n\"Yes. Oh, I know now; he wasn\'t. It was that blessed child\'s mother he\nwas in love with, and that\'s why he wanted--but never mind that part,\"\nshe added hastily, remembering just in time her promise to Pollyanna\nnot to tell that Mr. Pendleton had wished her to come and live with him.\n\"Well, I\'ve been askin\' folks about him some, since, and I\'ve found out\nthat him an\' Miss Polly hain\'t been friends for years, an\' that she\'s\nbeen hatin\' him like pizen owin\' ter the silly gossip that coupled their\nnames tergether when she was eighteen or twenty.\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember,\" nodded Old Tom. \"It was three or four years after\nMiss Jennie give him the mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss\nPolly knew about it, of course, and was sorry for him. So she tried ter\nbe nice to him. Maybe she overdid it a little--she hated that minister\nchap so who had took off her sister. At any rate, somebody begun ter\nmake trouble. They said she was runnin\' after him.\"\n\n\"Runnin\' after any man--her!\" interjected Nancy.\n\n\"I know it; but they did,\" declared Old Tom, \"and of course no gal of\nany spunk\'ll stand that. Then about that time come her own lover an\'\nthe trouble with HIM. After that she shut up like an oyster an\' wouldn\'t\nhave nothin\' ter do with nobody fur a spell. Her heart jest seemed to\nturn bitter at the core.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. I\'ve heard about that now,\" rejoined Nancy; \"an\' that\'s\nwhy you could \'a\' knocked me down with a feather when I see HIM at the\ndoor--him, what she hain\'t spoke to for years! But I let him in an\' went\nan\' told her.\"\n\n\"What did she say?\" Old Tom held his breath suspended.\n\n\"Nothin\'--at first. She was so still I thought she hadn\'t heard; and I\nwas jest goin\' ter say it over when she speaks up quiet like: \'Tell Mr.\nPendleton I will be down at once.\' An\' I come an\' told him. Then I come\nout here an\' told you,\" finished Nancy, casting another backward glance\ntoward the house.\n\n\"Humph!\" grunted Old Tom; and fell to work again.\n\n\nIn the ceremonious \"parlor\" of the Harrington homestead, Mr. John\nPendleton did not have to wait long before a swift step warned him of\nMiss Polly\'s coming. As he attempted to rise, she made a gesture of\nremonstrance. She did not offer her hand, however, and her face was\ncoldly reserved.\n\n\"I called to ask for--Pollyanna,\" he began at once, a little brusquely.\n\n\"Thank you. She is about the same,\" said Miss Polly.\n\n\"And that is--won\'t you tell me HOW she is?\" His voice was not quite\nsteady this time.\n\nA quick spasm of pain crossed the woman\'s face.\n\n\"I can\'t, I wish I could!\"\n\n\"You mean--you don\'t know?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But--the doctor?\"\n\n\"Dr. Warren himself seems--at sea. He is in correspondence now with a\nNew York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once.\"\n\n\"But--but what WERE her injuries that you do know?\"\n\n\"A slight cut on the head, one or two bruises, and--and an injury to the\nspine which has seemed to cause--paralysis from the hips down.\"\n\nA low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence; then, huskily,\nhe asked:\n\n\"And Pollyanna--how does she--take it?\"\n\n\"She doesn\'t understand--at all--how things really are. And I CAN\'T tell\nher.\"\n\n\"But she must know--something!\"\n\nMiss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the gesture\nthat had become so common to her of late.\n\n\"Oh, yes. She knows she can\'t--move; but she thinks her legs\nare--broken. She says she\'s glad it\'s broken legs like yours rather than\n\'lifelong-invalids\' like Mrs. Snow\'s; because broken legs get well, and\nthe other--doesn\'t. She talks like that all the time, until it--it seems\nas if I should--die!\"\n\nThrough the blur of tears in his own eyes, the man saw the drawn face\nopposite, twisted with emotion. Involuntarily his thoughts went back\nto what Pollyanna had said when he had made his final plea for her\npresence: \"Oh, I couldn\'t leave Aunt Polly--now!\"\n\nIt was this thought that made him ask very gently, as soon as he could\ncontrol his voice:\n\n\"I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get\nPollyanna to come and live with me.\"\n\n\"With YOU!--Pollyanna!\"\n\nThe man winced a little at the tone of her voice; but his own voice was\nstill impersonally cool when he spoke again.\n\n\"Yes. I wanted to adopt her--legally, you understand; making her my\nheir, of course.\"\n\nThe woman in the opposite chair relaxed a little. It came to\nher, suddenly, what a brilliant future it would have meant for\nPollyanna--this adoption; and she wondered if Pollyanna were old enough\nand mercenary enough--to be tempted by this man\'s money and position.\n\n\"I am very fond of Pollyanna,\" the man was continuing. \"I am fond of\nher both for her own sake, and for--her mother\'s. I stood ready to give\nPollyanna the love that had been twenty-five years in storage.\"\n\n\"LOVE.\" Miss Polly remembered suddenly why SHE had taken this child\nin the first place--and with the recollection came the remembrance of\nPollyanna\'s own words uttered that very morning: \"I love to be called\n\'dear\' by folks that belong to you!\" And it was this love-hungry little\ngirl that had been offered the stored-up affection of twenty-five\nyears:--and she was old enough to be tempted by love! With a sinking\nheart Miss Polly realized that. With a sinking heart, too, she realized\nsomething else: the dreariness of her own future now without Pollyanna.\n\n\"Well?\" she said. And the man, recognizing the self-control that\nvibrated through the harshness of the tone, smiled sadly.\n\n\"She would not come,\" he answered.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"She would not leave you. She said you had been so good to her. She\nwanted to stay with you--and she said she THOUGHT you wanted her to\nstay,\" he finished, as he pulled himself to his feet.\n\nHe did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned his face resolutely toward\nthe door. But instantly he heard a swift step at his side, and found a\nshaking hand thrust toward him.\n\n\"When the specialist comes, and I know anything--definite about\nPollyanna, I will let you hear from me,\" said a trembling voice.\n\"Good-by--and thank you for coming. Pollyanna will be pleased.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV. A WAITING GAME\n\nOn the day after John Pendleton\'s call at the Harrington homestead, Miss\nPolly set herself to the task of preparing Pollyanna for the visit of\nthe specialist.\n\n\"Pollyanna, my dear,\" she began gently, \"we have decided that we want\nanother doctor besides Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us\nsomething new to do--to help you get well faster, you know.\"\n\nA joyous light came to Pollyanna\'s face.\n\n\"Dr. Chilton! Oh, Aunt Polly, I\'d so love to have Dr. Chilton! I\'ve\nwanted him all the time, but I was afraid you didn\'t, on account of his\nseeing you in the sun parlor that day, you know; so I didn\'t like to say\nanything. But I\'m so glad you do want him!\"\n\nAunt Polly\'s face had turned white, then red, then back to white again.\nBut when she answered, she showed very plainly that she was trying to\nspeak lightly and cheerfully.\n\n\"Oh, no, dear! It wasn\'t Dr. Chilton at all that I meant. It is a new\ndoctor--a very famous doctor from New York, who--who knows a great deal\nabout--about hurts like yours.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s face fell.\n\n\"I don\'t believe he knows half so much as Dr. Chilton.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, he does, I\'m sure, dear.\"\n\n\"But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pendleton\'s broken leg,\nAunt Polly. If--if you don\'t mind VERY much, I WOULD LIKE to have Dr.\nChilton--truly I would!\"\n\nA distressed color suffused Miss Polly\'s face. For a moment she did not\nspeak at all; then she said gently--though yet with a touch of her old\nstern decisiveness:\n\n\"But I do mind, Pollyanna. I mind very much. I would do anything--almost\nanything for you, my dear; but I--for reasons which I do not care to\nspeak of now, I don\'t wish Dr. Chilton called in on--on this case. And\nbelieve me, he can NOT know so much about--about your trouble, as this\ngreat doctor does, who will come from New York to-morrow.\"\n\nPollyanna still looked unconvinced.\n\n\"But, Aunt Polly, if you LOVED Dr. Chilton--\"\n\n\"WHAT, Pollyanna?\" Aunt Polly\'s voice was very sharp now. Her cheeks\nwere very red, too.\n\n\"I say, if you loved Dr. Chilton, and didn\'t love the other one,\" sighed\nPollyanna, \"seems to me that would make some difference in the good he\nwould do; and I love Dr. Chilton.\"\n\nThe nurse entered the room at that moment, and Aunt Polly rose to her\nfeet abruptly, a look of relief on her face.\n\n\"I am very sorry, Pollyanna,\" she said, a little stiffly; \"but I\'m\nafraid you\'ll have to let me be the judge, this time. Besides, it\'s\nalready arranged. The New York doctor is coming to-morrow.\"\n\nAs it happened, however, the New York doctor did not come \"to-morrow.\"\nAt the last moment a telegram told of an unavoidable delay owing to\nthe sudden illness of the specialist himself. This led Pollyanna into a\nrenewed pleading for the substitution of Dr. Chilton--\"which would be so\neasy now, you know.\"\n\nBut as before, Aunt Polly shook her head and said \"no, dear,\" very\ndecisively, yet with a still more anxious assurance that she would do\nanything--anything but that--to please her dear Pollyanna.\n\nAs the days of waiting passed, one by one, it did indeed, seem that Aunt\nPolly was doing everything (but that) that she could do to please her\nniece.\n\n\"I wouldn\'t \'a\' believed it--you couldn\'t \'a\' made me believe it,\" Nancy\nsaid to Old Tom one morning. \"There don\'t seem ter be a minute in the\nday that Miss Polly ain\'t jest hangin\' \'round waitin\' ter do somethin\'\nfor that blessed lamb if \'tain\'t more than ter let in the cat--an\' her\nwhat wouldn\'t let Fluff nor Buff up-stairs for love nor money a week\nago; an\' now she lets \'em tumble all over the bed jest \'cause it pleases\nMiss Pollyanna!\n\n\"An\' when she ain\'t doin\' nothin\' else, she\'s movin\' them little glass\ndanglers \'round ter diff\'rent winders in the room so the sun\'ll make\nthe \'rainbows dance,\' as that blessed child calls it. She\'s sent Timothy\ndown ter Cobb\'s greenhouse three times for fresh flowers--an\' that\nbesides all the posies fetched in ter her, too. An\' the other day, if I\ndidn\'t find her sittin\' \'fore the bed with the nurse actually doin\' her\nhair, an\' Miss Pollyanna lookin\' on an\' bossin\' from the bed, her eyes\nall shinin\' an\' happy. An\' I declare ter goodness, if Miss Polly hain\'t\nwore her hair like that every day now--jest ter please that blessed\nchild!\"\n\nOld Tom chuckled.\n\n\"Well, it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain\'t lookin\' none the\nworse--for wearin\' them \'ere curls \'round her forehead,\" he observed\ndryly.\n\n\"\'Course she ain\'t,\" retorted Nancy, indignantly. \"She looks like\nFOLKS, now. She\'s actually almost--\"\n\n\"Keerful, now, Nancy!\" interrupted the old man, with a slow grin. \"You\nknow what you said when I told ye she was handsome once.\"\n\nNancy shrugged her shoulders.\n\n\"Oh, she ain\'t handsome, of course; but I will own up she don\'t look\nlike the same woman, what with the ribbons an\' lace jiggers Miss\nPollyanna makes her wear \'round her neck.\"\n\n\"I told ye so,\" nodded the man. \"I told ye she wa\'n\'t--old.\"\n\nNancy laughed.\n\n\"Well, I\'ll own up she HAIN\'T got quite so good an imitation of it--as\nshe did have, \'fore Miss Pollyanna come. Say, Mr. Tom, who WAS her A\nlover? I hain\'t found that out, yet; I hain\'t, I hain\'t!\"\n\n\"Hain\'t ye?\" asked the old man, with an odd look on his face. \"Well, I\nguess ye won\'t then from me.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Tom, come on, now,\" wheedled the girl. \"Ye see, there ain\'t\nmany folks here that I CAN ask.\"\n\n\"Maybe not. But there\'s one, anyhow, that ain\'t answerin\',\" grinned\nOld Tom. Then, abruptly, the light died from his eyes. \"How is she,\nter-day--the little gal?\"\n\nNancy shook her head. Her face, too, had sobered.\n\n\"Just the same, Mr. Tom. There ain\'t no special diff\'rence, as I can\nsee--or anybody, I guess. She jest lays there an\' sleeps an\' talks some,\nan\' tries ter smile an\' be \'glad\' \'cause the sun sets or the moon rises,\nor some other such thing, till it\'s enough ter make yer heart break with\nachin\'.\"\n\n\"I know; it\'s the \'game\'--bless her sweet heart!\" nodded Old Tom,\nblinking a little.\n\n\"She told YOU, then, too, about that \'ere--game?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. She told me long ago.\" The old man hesitated, then went on,\nhis lips twitching a little. \"I was growlin\' one day \'cause I was so\nbent up and crooked; an\' what do ye s\'pose the little thing said?\"\n\n\"I couldn\'t guess. I wouldn\'t think she could find ANYTHIN\' about THAT\nter be glad about!\"\n\n\"She did. She said I could be glad, anyhow, that I didn\'t have ter STOOP\nSO FAR TER DO MY WEEDIN\' \'cause I was already bent part way over.\"\n\nNancy gave a wistful laugh.\n\n\"Well, I ain\'t surprised, after all. You might know she\'d find\nsomethin\'. We\'ve been playin\' it--that game--since almost the first,\n\'cause there wa\'n\'t no one else she could play it with--though she did\nspeak of--her aunt.\"\n\n\"MISS POLLY!\"\n\nNancy chuckled.\n\n\"I guess you hain\'t got such an awful diff\'rent opinion o\' the mistress\nthan I have,\" she bridled.\n\nOld Tom stiffened.\n\n\"I was only thinkin\' \'twould be--some of a surprise--to her,\" he\nexplained with dignity.\n\n\"Well, yes, I guess \'twould be--THEN,\" retorted Nancy. \"I ain\'t sayin\'\nwhat \'twould be NOW. I\'d believe anythin\' o\' the mistress now--even that\nshe\'d take ter playin\' it herself!\"\n\n\"But hain\'t the little gal told her--ever? She\'s told ev\'ry one else,\nI guess. I\'m hearin\' of it ev\'rywhere, now, since she was hurted,\" said\nTom.\n\n\"Well, she didn\'t tell Miss Polly,\" rejoined Nancy. \"Miss Pollyanna told\nme long ago that she couldn\'t tell her, \'cause her aunt didn\'t like ter\nhave her talk about her father; an\' \'twas her father\'s game, an\' she\'d\nhave ter talk about him if she did tell it. So she never told her.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see, I see.\" The old man nodded his head slowly. \"They was always\nbitter against the minister chap--all of \'em, \'cause he took Miss Jennie\naway from \'em. An\' Miss Polly--young as she was--couldn\'t never forgive\nhim; she was that fond of Miss Jennie--in them days. I see, I see. \'Twas\na bad mess,\" he sighed, as he turned away.\n\n\"Yes, \'twas--all \'round, all \'round,\" sighed Nancy in her turn, as she\nwent back to her kitchen.\n\nFor no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look\ncheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was openly nervous and\nimpatient. Miss Polly said little; but even the softening waves of hair\nabout her face, and the becoming laces at her throat, could not hide\nthe fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna--Pollyanna\npetted the dog, smoothed the cat\'s sleek head, admired the flowers\nand ate the fruits and jellies that were sent in to her; and returned\ninnumerable cheery answers to the many messages of love and inquiry that\nwere brought to her bedside. But she, too, grew pale and thin; and the\nnervous activity of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the\npitiful motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs now lying\nso woefully quiet under the blankets.\n\nAs to the game--Pollyanna told Nancy these days how glad she was going\nto be when she could go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to call\non Mr. Pendleton, and go to ride with Dr. Chilton nor did she seem to\nrealize that all this \"gladness\" was in the future, not the present.\nNancy, however, did realize it--and cry about it, when she was alone.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI. A DOOR AJAR\n\nJust a week from the time Dr. Mead, the specialist, was first expected,\nhe came. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind gray eyes, and a\ncheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once, and told him so.\n\n\"You look quite a lot like MY doctor, you see,\" she added engagingly.\n\n\"YOUR doctor?\" Dr. Mead glanced in evident surprise at Dr. Warren,\ntalking with the nurse a few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small,\nbrown-eyed man with a pointed brown beard.\n\n\"Oh, THAT isn\'t my doctor,\" smiled Pollyanna, divining his thought. \"Dr.\nWarren is Aunt Polly\'s doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.\"\n\n\"Oh-h!\" said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes resting on Miss Polly,\nwho, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away.\n\n\"Yes.\" Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness.\n\"You see, _I_ wanted Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted\nyou. She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, anyway about--about broken\nlegs like mine. And of course if you do, I can be glad for that. Do\nyou?\"\n\nA swift something crossed the doctor\'s face that Pollyanna could not\nquite translate.\n\n\"Only time can tell that, little girl,\" he said gently; then he turned a\ngrave face toward Dr. Warren, who had just come to the bedside.\n\n\nEvery one said afterward that it was the cat that did it. Certainly,\nif Fluffy had not poked an insistent paw and nose against Pollyanna\'s\nunlatched door, the door would not have swung noiselessly open on its\nhinges until it stood perhaps a foot ajar; and if the door had not been\nopen, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt\'s words.\n\nIn the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly stood talking. In\nPollyanna\'s room Fluffy had just jumped to the bed with a little purring\n\"meow\" of joy when through the open door sounded clearly and sharply\nAunt Polly\'s agonized exclamation.\n\n\"Not that! Doctor, not that! You don\'t mean--the child--will NEVER WALK\nagain!\"\n\nIt was all confusion then. First, from the bedroom came Pollyanna\'s\nterrified \"Aunt Polly Aunt Polly!\" Then Miss Polly, seeing the open\ndoor and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan\nand--for the first time in her life--fainted dead away.\n\nThe nurse, with a choking \"She heard!\" stumbled toward the open door.\nThe two doctors stayed with Miss Polly. Dr. Mead had to stay--he had\ncaught Miss Polly as she fell. Dr. Warren stood by, helplessly. It was\nnot until Pollyanna cried out again sharply and the nurse closed the\ndoor, that the two men, with a despairing glance into each other\'s eyes,\nawoke to the immediate duty of bringing the woman in Dr. Mead\'s arms\nback to unhappy consciousness.\n\nIn Pollyanna\'s room, the nurse had found a purring gray cat on the\nbed vainly trying to attract the attention of a white-faced, wild-eyed\nlittle girl.\n\n\"Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick,\nplease!\"\n\nThe nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very\npale.\n\n\"She--she can\'t come just this minute, dear. She will--a little later.\nWhat is it? Can\'t I--get it?\"\n\nPollyanna shook her head.\n\n\"But I want to know what she said--just now. Did you hear her? I\nwant Aunt Polly--she said something. I want her to tell me \'tisn\'t\ntrue--\'tisn\'t true!\"\n\nThe nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Something in her face sent\nan added terror to Pollyanna\'s eyes.\n\n\"Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isn\'t true! You don\'t\nmean I can\'t ever--walk again?\"\n\n\"There, there, dear--don\'t, don\'t!\" choked the nurse. \"Perhaps he didn\'t\nknow. Perhaps he was mistaken. There\'s lots of things that could happen,\nyou know.\"\n\n\"But Aunt Polly said he did know! She said he knew more than anybody\nelse about--about broken legs like mine!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make mistakes sometimes.\nJust--just don\'t think any more about it now--please don\'t, dear.\"\n\nPollyanna flung out her arms wildly. \"But I can\'t help thinking about\nit,\" she sobbed. \"It\'s all there is now to think about. Why, Miss Hunt,\nhow am I going to school, or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or--or\nanybody?\" She caught her breath and sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly\nshe stopped and looked up, a new terror in her eyes. \"Why, Miss Hunt, if\nI can\'t walk, how am I ever going to be glad for--ANYTHING?\"\n\nMiss Hunt did not know \"the game;\" but she did know that her patient\nmust be quieted, and that at once. In spite of her own perturbation and\nheartache, her hands had not been idle, and she stood now at the bedside\nwith the quieting powder ready.\n\n\"There, there, dear, just take this,\" she soothed; \"and by and by we\'ll\nbe more rested, and we\'ll see what can be done then. Things aren\'t half\nas bad as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.\"\n\nObediently Pollyanna took the medicine, and sipped the water from the\nglass in Miss Hunt\'s hand.\n\n\"I know; that sounds like things father used to say,\" faltered\nPollyanna, blinking off the tears. \"He said there was always something\nabout everything that might be worse; but I reckon he\'d never just heard\nhe couldn\'t ever walk again. I don\'t see how there CAN be anything about\nthat, that could be worse--do you?\"\n\nMiss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust herself to speak just then.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII. TWO VISITS\n\nIt was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Mead\'s\nverdict. Miss Polly had remembered her promise to let him have direct\ninformation from the house. To go herself, or to write a letter, she\nfelt to be almost equally out of the question. It occurred to her then\nto send Nancy.\n\nThere had been a time when Nancy would have rejoiced greatly at this\nextraordinary opportunity to see something of the House of Mystery and\nits master. But to-day her heart was too heavy to, rejoice at anything.\nShe scarcely even looked about her at all, indeed, during the few\nminutes, she waited for Mr. John Pendleton to appear.\n\n\"I\'m Nancy, sir,\" she said respectfully, in response to the surprised\nquestioning of his eyes, when he came into the room. \"Miss Harrington\nsent me to tell you about--Miss Pollyanna.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\nIn spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the\nanxiety that lay behind that short \"well?\"\n\n\"It ain\'t well, Mr. Pendleton,\" she choked.\n\n\"You don\'t mean--\" He paused, and she bowed her head miserably.\n\n\"Yes, sir. He says--she can\'t walk again--never.\"\n\nFor a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke,\nin a voice shaken with emotion.\n\n\"Poor--little--girl! Poor--little--girl!\"\n\nNancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. She had not supposed\nthat sour, cross, stern John Pendleton could look like that. In a moment\nhe spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice.\n\n\"It seems cruel--never to dance in the sunshine again! My little prism\ngirl!\"\n\nThere was another silence; then, abruptly, the man asked:\n\n\"She herself doesn\'t know yet--of course--does she?\"\n\n\"But she does, sir.\" sobbed Nancy, \"an\' that\'s what makes it all the\nharder. She found out--drat that cat! I begs yer pardon,\" apologized the\ngirl, hurriedly. \"It\'s only that the cat pushed open the door an\' Miss\nPollyanna overheard \'em talkin\'. She found out--that way.\"\n\n\"Poor--little--girl!\" sighed the man again.\n\n\"Yes, sir. You\'d say so, sir, if you could see her,\" choked Nancy. \"I\nhain\'t seen her but twice since she knew about it, an\' it done me up\nboth times. Ye see it\'s all so fresh an\' new to her, an\' she keeps\nthinkin\' all the time of new things she can\'t do--NOW. It worries her,\ntoo, \'cause she can\'t seem ter be glad--maybe you don\'t know about her\ngame, though,\" broke off Nancy, apologetically.\n\n\"The \'glad game\'?\" asked the man. \"Oh, yes; she told me of that.\"\n\n\"Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally ter most folks.\nBut ye see, now she--she can\'t play it herself, an\' it worries her.\nShe says she can\'t think of a thing--not a thing about this not walkin\'\nagain, ter be glad about.\"\n\n\"Well, why should she?\" retorted the man, almost savagely.\n\nNancy shifted her feet uneasily.\n\n\"That\'s the way I felt, too--till I happened ter think--it WOULD be\neasier if she could find somethin\', ye know. So I tried to--to remind\nher.\"\n\n\"To remind her! Of what?\" John Pendleton\'s voice was still angrily\nimpatient.\n\n\"Of--of how she told others ter play it Mis\' Snow, and the rest, ye\nknow--and what she said for them ter do. But the poor little lamb just\ncries, an\' says it don\'t seem the same, somehow. She says it\'s easy ter\nTELL lifelong invalids how ter be glad, but \'tain\'t the same thing when\nyou\'re the lifelong invalid yerself, an\' have ter try ter do it. She\nsays she\'s told herself over an\' over again how glad she is that other\nfolks ain\'t like her; but that all the time she\'s sayin\' it, she ain\'t\nreally THINKIN\' of anythin\' only how she can\'t ever walk again.\"\n\nNancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his\neyes.\n\n\"Then I tried ter remind her how she used ter say the game was all the\nnicer ter play when--when it was hard,\" resumed Nancy, in a dull voice.\n\"But she says that, too, is diff\'rent--when it really IS hard. An\' I\nmust be goin\', now, sir,\" she broke off abruptly.\n\nAt the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly:\n\n\"I couldn\'t be tellin\' Miss Pollyanna that--that you\'d seen Jimmy Bean\nagain, I s\'pose, sir, could I?\"\n\n\"I don\'t see how you could--as I haven\'t seen him,\" observed the man a\nlittle shortly. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Nothin\', sir, only--well, ye see, that\'s one of the things that she was\nfeelin\' bad about, that she couldn\'t take him ter see you, now. She said\nshe\'d taken him once, but she didn\'t think he showed off very well that\nday, and that she was afraid you didn\'t think he would make a very nice\nchild\'s presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; but\nI didn\'t, sir.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know--what she means.\"\n\n\"All right, sir. It was only that she was wantin\' ter take him again,\nshe said, so\'s ter show ye he really was a lovely child\'s presence. And\nnow she--can\'t--drat that autymobile! I begs yer pardon, sir. Good-by!\"\nAnd Nancy fled precipitately.\n\n\nIt did not take long for the entire town of Beldingsville to learn that\nthe great New York doctor had said Pollyanna Whittier would never\nwalk again; and certainly never before had the town been so stirred.\nEverybody knew by sight now the piquant little freckled face that had\nalways a smile of greeting; and almost everybody knew of the \"game\" that\nPollyanna was playing. To think that now never again would that smiling\nface be seen on their streets--never again would that cheery little\nvoice proclaim the gladness of some everyday experience! It seemed\nunbelievable, impossible, cruel.\n\nIn kitchens and sitting rooms, and over back-yard fences women talked of\nit, and wept openly. On street corners and in store lounging-places the\nmen talked, too, and wept--though not so openly. And neither the talking\nnor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels of the news itself,\ncame Nancy\'s pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what had\ncome to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact that she could not play\nthe game; that she could not now be glad over--anything.\n\nIt was then that the same thought must have, in some way, come to\nPollyanna\'s friends. At all events, almost at once, the mistress of the\nHarrington homestead, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls:\ncalls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men,\nwomen, and children--many of whom Miss Polly had not supposed that her\nniece knew at all.\n\nSome came in and sat down for a stiff five or ten minutes. Some stood\nawkwardly on the porch steps, fumbling with hats or hand-bags, according\nto their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of flowers, or a dainty to\ntempt the palate. Some cried frankly. Some turned their backs and blew\ntheir noses furiously. But all inquired very anxiously for the little\ninjured girl; and all sent to her some message--and it was these\nmessages which, after a time, stirred Miss Polly to action.\n\nFirst came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches to-day.\n\n\"I don\'t need to tell you how shocked I am,\" he began almost harshly.\n\"But can--nothing be done?\"\n\nMiss Polly gave a gesture of despair.\n\n\"Oh, we\'re \'doing,\' of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain\ntreatments and medicines that might help, and Dr. Warren is carrying\nthem out to the letter, of course. But--Dr. Mead held out almost no\nhope.\"\n\nJohn Pendleton rose abruptly--though he had but just come. His face was\nwhite, and his mouth was set into stern lines. Miss Polly, looking at\nhim, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her\npresence. At the door he turned.\n\n\"I have a message for Pollyanna,\" he said. \"Will you tell her, please,\nthat I have seen Jimmy Bean and--that he\'s going to be my boy hereafter.\nTell her I thought she would be--GLAD to know. I shall adopt him,\nprobably.\"\n\nFor a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control.\n\n\"You will adopt Jimmy Bean!\" she gasped.\n\nThe man lifted his chin a little.\n\n\"Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she\nwould be--GLAD!\"\n\n\"Why, of--of course,\" faltered Miss Polly.\n\n\"Thank you,\" bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go.\n\nIn the middle of the floor Miss Polly stood, silent and amazed, still\nlooking after the man who had just left her. Even yet she could scarcely\nbelieve what her ears had heard. John Pendleton ADOPT Jimmy Bean? John\nPendleton, wealthy, independent, morose, reputed to be miserly and\nsupremely selfish, to adopt a little boy--and such a little boy?\n\nWith a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went up-stairs to Pollyanna\'s\nroom.\n\n\"Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He has\njust been here. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his\nlittle boy. He said he thought you\'d be glad to know it.\"\n\nPollyanna\'s wistful little face flamed into sudden joy.\n\n\"Glad? GLAD? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, I\'ve so wanted to\nfind a place for Jimmy--and that\'s such a lovely place! Besides, I\'m\nso glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he\'ll have the child\'s\npresence.\"\n\n\"The--what?\"\n\nPollyanna colored painfully. She had forgotten that she had never told\nher aunt of Mr. Pendleton\'s desire to adopt her--and certainly she\nwould not wish to tell her now that she had ever thought for a minute of\nleaving her--this dear Aunt Polly!\n\n\"The child\'s presence,\" stammered Pollyanna, hastily. \"Mr. Pendleton\ntold me once, you see, that only a woman\'s hand and heart or a child\'s\npresence could make a--a home. And now he\'s got it--the child\'s\npresence.\"\n\n\"Oh, I--see,\" said Miss Polly very gently; and she did see--more than\nPollyanna realized. She saw something of the pressure that was probably\nbrought to bear on Pollyanna herself at the time John Pendleton was\nasking HER to be the \"child\'s presence,\" which was to transform his\ngreat pile of gray stone into a home. \"I see,\" she finished, her eyes\nstinging with sudden tears.\n\nPollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask further embarrassing\nquestions, hastened to lead the conversation away from the Pendleton\nhouse and its master.\n\n\"Dr. Chilton says so, too--that it takes a woman\'s hand and heart, or a\nchild\'s presence, to make a home, you know,\" she remarked.\n\nMiss Polly turned with a start.\n\n\"DR. CHILTON! How do you know--that?\"\n\n\"He told me so. \'Twas when he said he lived in just rooms, you know--not\na home.\"\n\nMiss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window.\n\n\"So I asked him why he didn\'t get \'em--a woman\'s hand and heart, and\nhave a home.\"\n\n\"Pollyanna!\" Miss Polly had turned sharply. Her cheeks showed a sudden\ncolor.\n\n\"Well, I did. He looked so--so sorrowful.\"\n\n\"What did he--say?\" Miss Polly asked the question as if in spite of some\nforce within her that was urging her not to ask it.\n\n\"He didn\'t say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you\ncouldn\'t always get \'em for the asking.\"\n\nThere was a brief silence. Miss Polly\'s eyes had turned again to the\nwindow. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink.\n\nPollyanna sighed.\n\n\"He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.\"\n\n\"Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?\"\n\n\"Because, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said\nthat low, too, but I heard him. He said that he\'d give all the world\nif he did have one woman\'s hand and heart. Why, Aunt Polly, what\'s the\nmatter?\" Aunt Polly had risen hurriedly and gone to the window.\n\n\"Nothing, dear. I was changing the position of this prism,\" said Aunt\nPolly, whose whole face now was aflame.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII. THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS\n\nIt was not long after John Pendleton\'s second visit that Milly Snow\ncalled one afternoon. Milly Snow had never before been to the Harrington\nhomestead. She blushed and looked very embarrassed when Miss Polly\nentered the room.\n\n\"I--I came to inquire for the little girl,\" she stammered.\n\n\"You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?\" rejoined\nMiss Polly, wearily.\n\n\"That is what I came to tell you--that is, to ask you to tell Miss\nPollyanna,\" hurried on the girl, breathlessly and incoherently. \"We\nthink it\'s--so awful--so perfectly awful that the little thing can\'t\never walk again; and after all she\'s done for us, too--for mother, you\nknow, teaching her to play the game, and all that. And when we heard how\nnow she couldn\'t play it herself--poor little dear! I\'m sure I don\'t see\nhow she CAN, either, in her condition!--but when we remembered all the\nthings she\'d said to us, we thought if she could only know what she HAD\ndone for us, that it would HELP, you know, in her own case, about the\ngame, because she could be glad--that is, a little glad--\" Milly stopped\nhelplessly, and seemed to be waiting for Miss Polly to speak.\n\nMiss Polly had sat politely listening, but with a puzzled questioning in\nher eyes. Only about half of what had been said, had she understood. She\nwas thinking now that she always had known that Milly Snow was \"queer,\"\nbut she had not supposed she was crazy. In no other way, however, could\nshe account for this incoherent, illogical, unmeaning rush of words.\nWhen the pause came she filled it with a quiet:\n\n\"I don\'t think I quite understand, Milly. Just what is it that you want\nme to tell my niece?\"\n\n\"Yes, that\'s it; I want you to tell her,\" answered the girl, feverishly.\n\"Make her see what she\'s done for us. Of course she\'s SEEN some things,\nbecause she\'s been there, and she\'s known mother is different; but I\nwant her to know HOW different she is--and me, too. I\'m different. I\'ve\nbeen trying to play it--the game--a little.\"\n\nMiss Polly frowned. She would have asked what Milly meant by this\n\"game,\" but there was no opportunity. Milly was rushing on again with\nnervous volubility.\n\n\"You know nothing was ever right before--for mother. She was always\nwanting \'em different. And, really, I don\'t know as one could blame her\nmuch--under the circumstances. But now she lets me keep the shades up,\nand she takes interest in things--how she looks, and her nightdress, and\nall that. And she\'s actually begun to knit little things--reins and baby\nblankets for fairs and hospitals. And she\'s so interested, and so GLAD\nto think she can do it!--and that was all Miss Pollyanna\'s doings, you\nknow, \'cause she told mother she could be glad she\'d got her hands and\narms, anyway; and that made mother wonder right away why she didn\'t DO\nsomething with her hands and arms. And so she began to do something--to\nknit, you know. And you can\'t think what a different room it is now,\nwhat with the red and blue and yellow worsteds, and the prisms in the\nwindow that SHE gave her--why, it actually makes you feel BETTER just to\ngo in there now; and before I used to dread it awfully, it was so dark\nand gloomy, and mother was so--so unhappy, you know.\n\n\"And so we want you to please tell Miss Pollyanna that we understand\nit\'s all because of her. And please say we\'re so glad we know her, that\nwe thought, maybe if she knew it, it would make her a little glad that\nshe knew us. And--and that\'s all,\" sighed Milly, rising hurriedly to her\nfeet. \"You\'ll tell her?\"\n\n\"Why, of course,\" murmured Miss Polly, wondering just how much of this\nremarkable discourse she could remember to tell.\n\nThese visits of John Pendleton and Milly Snow were only the first of\nmany; and always there were the messages--the messages which were in\nsome ways so curious that they caused Miss Polly more and more to puzzle\nover them.\n\nOne day there was the little Widow Benton. Miss Polly knew her well,\nthough they had never called upon each other. By reputation she knew\nher as the saddest little woman in town--one who was always in black.\nTo-day, however, Mrs. Benton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat,\nthough there were tears in her eyes. She spoke of her grief and horror\nat the accident; then she asked diffidently if she might see Pollyanna.\n\nMiss Polly shook her head.\n\n\"I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A little later--perhaps.\"\n\nMrs. Benton wiped her eyes, rose, and turned to go. But after she had\nalmost reached the hall door she came back hurriedly.\n\n\"Miss Harrington, perhaps, you\'d give her--a message,\" she stammered.\n\n\"Certainly, Mrs. Benton; I shall be very glad to.\"\n\nStill the little woman hesitated; then she spoke.\n\n\"Will you tell her, please, that--that I\'ve put on THIS,\" she said, just\ntouching the blue bow at her throat. Then, at Miss Polly\'s ill-concealed\nlook of surprise, she added: \"The little girl has been trying for so\nlong to make me wear--some color, that I thought she\'d be--glad to know\nI\'d begun. She said that Freddy would be so glad to see it, if I would.\nYou know Freddy\'s ALL I have now. The others have all--\" Mrs. Benton\nshook her head and turned away. \"If you\'ll just tell Pollyanna--SHE\'LL\nunderstand.\" And the door closed after her.\n\nA little later, that same day, there was the other widow--at least, she\nwore widow\'s garments. Miss Polly did not know her at all. She wondered\nvaguely how Pollyanna could have known her. The lady gave her name as\n\"Mrs. Tarbell.\"\n\n\"I\'m a stranger to you, of course,\" she began at once. \"But I\'m not a\nstranger to your little niece, Pollyanna. I\'ve been at the hotel all\nsummer, and every day I\'ve had to take long walks for my health. It was\non these walks that I\'ve met your niece--she\'s such a dear little girl!\nI wish I could make you understand what she\'s been to me. I was very\nsad when I came up here; and her bright face and cheery ways reminded me\nof--my own little girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear\nof the accident; and then when I learned that the poor child would never\nwalk again, and that she was so unhappy because she couldn\'t be glad any\nlonger--the dear child!--I just had to come to you.\"\n\n\"You are very kind,\" murmured Miss Polly.\n\n\"But it is you who are to be kind,\" demurred the other. \"I--I want you\nto give her a message from me. Will you?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now. Yes, I\nknow it sounds odd, and you don\'t understand. But--if you\'ll pardon me\nI\'d rather not explain.\" Sad lines came to the lady\'s mouth, and the\nsmile left her eyes. \"Your niece will know just what I mean; and I felt\nthat I must tell--her. Thank you; and pardon me, please, for any seeming\nrudeness in my call,\" she begged, as she took her leave.\n\nThoroughly mystified now, Miss Polly hurried up-stairs to Pollyanna\'s\nroom.\n\n\"Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She\'s sick, and awfully sad; and she\'s\nat the hotel, and takes long walks. We go together. I mean--we used to.\"\nPollyanna\'s voice broke, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks.\n\nMiss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly.\n\n\"We\'ll, she\'s just been here, dear. She left a message for you--but she\nwouldn\'t tell me what it meant. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell\nis glad now.\"\n\nPollyanna clapped her hands softly.\n\n\"Did she say that--really? Oh, I\'m so glad!\"\n\n\"But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?\"\n\n\"Why, it\'s the game, and--\" Pollyanna stopped short, her fingers to her\nlips.\n\n\"What game?\"\n\n\"N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is--I can\'t tell it unless I tell\nother things that--that I\'m not to speak of.\"\n\nIt was on Miss Polly\'s tongue to question her niece further; but the\nobvious distress on the little girl\'s face stayed the words before they\nwere uttered.\n\nNot long after Mrs. Tarbell\'s visit, the climax came. It came in the\nshape of a call from a certain young woman with unnaturally pink cheeks\nand abnormally yellow hair; a young woman who wore high heels and cheap\njewelry; a young woman whom Miss Polly knew very well by reputation--but\nwhom she was angrily amazed to meet beneath the roof of the Harrington\nhomestead.\n\nMiss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew back, indeed, as she entered\nthe room.\n\nThe woman rose at once. Her eyes were very red, as if she had been\ncrying. Half defiantly she asked if she might, for a moment, see the\nlittle girl, Pollyanna.\n\nMiss Polly said no. She began to say it very sternly; but something in\nthe woman\'s pleading eyes made her add the civil explanation that no one\nwas allowed yet to see Pollyanna.\n\nThe woman hesitated; then a little brusquely she spoke. Her chin was\nstill at a slightly defiant tilt.\n\n\"My name is Mrs. Payson--Mrs. Tom Payson. I presume you\'ve heard of\nme--most of the good people in the town have--and maybe some of the\nthings you\'ve heard ain\'t true. But never mind that. It\'s about the\nlittle girl I came. I heard about the accident, and--and it broke me\nall up. Last week I heard how she couldn\'t ever walk again, and--and\nI wished I could give up my two uselessly well legs for hers. She\'d\ndo more good trotting around on \'em one hour than I could in a hundred\nyears. But never mind that. Legs ain\'t always given to the one who can\nmake the best use of \'em, I notice.\"\n\nShe paused, and cleared her throat; but when she resumed her voice was\nstill husky.\n\n\"Maybe you don\'t know it, but I\'ve seen a good deal of that little girl\nof yours. We live on the Pendleton Hill road, and she used to go by\noften--only she didn\'t always GO BY. She came in and played with the\nkids and talked to me--and my man, when he was home. She seemed to like\nit, and to like us. She didn\'t know, I suspect, that her kind of folks\ndon\'t generally call on my kind. Maybe if they DID call more, Miss\nHarrington, there wouldn\'t be so many--of my kind,\" she added, with\nsudden bitterness.\n\n\"Be that as it may, she came; and she didn\'t do herself no harm, and she\ndid do us good--a lot o\' good. How much she won\'t know--nor can\'t know,\nI hope; \'cause if she did, she\'d know other things--that I don\'t want\nher to know.\n\n\"But it\'s just this. It\'s been hard times with us this year, in more\nways than one. We\'ve been blue and discouraged--my man and me, and ready\nfor--\'most anything. We was reckoning on getting a divorce about now,\nand letting the kids well, we didn\'t know what we would do with the\nkids. Then came the accident, and what we heard about the little girl\'s\nnever walking again. And we got to thinking how she used to come and\nsit on our doorstep and train with the kids, and laugh, and--and just be\nglad. She was always being glad about something; and then, one day, she\ntold us why, and about the game, you know; and tried to coax us to play\nit.\n\n\"Well, we\'ve heard now that she\'s fretting her poor little life out of\nher, because she can\'t play it no more--that there\'s nothing to be glad\nabout. And that\'s what I came to tell her to-day--that maybe she can be\na little glad for us, \'cause we\'ve decided to stick to each other, and\nplay the game ourselves. I knew she would be glad, because she used to\nfeel kind of bad--at things we said, sometimes. Just how the game is\ngoing to help us, I can\'t say that I exactly see, yet; but maybe \'twill.\nAnyhow, we\'re going to try--\'cause she wanted us to. Will you tell her?\"\n\n\"Yes, I will tell her,\" promised Miss Polly, a little faintly. Then,\nwith sudden impulse, she stepped forward and held out her hand. \"And\nthank you for coming, Mrs. Payson,\" she said simply.\n\nThe defiant chin fell. The lips above it trembled visibly. With an\nincoherently mumbled something, Mrs. Payson blindly clutched at the\noutstretched hand, turned, and fled.\n\nThe door had scarcely closed behind her before Miss Polly was\nconfronting Nancy in the kitchen.\n\n\"Nancy!\"\n\nMiss Polly spoke sharply. The series of puzzling, disconcerting visits\nof the last few days, culminating as they had in the extraordinary\nexperience of the afternoon, had strained her nerves to the snapping\npoint. Not since Miss Pollyanna\'s accident had Nancy heard her mistress\nspeak so sternly.\n\n\"Nancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd \'game\' is that the whole town\nseems to be babbling about? And what, please, has my niece to do with\nit? WHY does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to\nher that they\'re \'playing it\'? As near as I can judge, half the town\nare putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, or learning to\nlike something they never liked before, and all because of Pollyanna. I\ntried to ask the child herself about it, but I can\'t seem to make\nmuch headway, and of course I don\'t like to worry her--now. But from\nsomething I heard her say to you last night, I should judge you were one\nof them, too. Now WILL you tell me what it all means?\"\n\nTo Miss Polly\'s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears.\n\n\"It means that ever since last June that blessed child has jest been\nmakin\' the whole town glad, an\' now they\'re turnin\' \'round an\' tryin\'\nter make her a little glad, too.\"\n\n\"Glad of what?\"\n\n\"Just glad! That\'s the game.\"\n\nMiss Polly actually stamped her foot.\n\n\"There you go like all the rest, Nancy. What game?\"\n\nNancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked her squarely in\nthe eye.\n\n\"I\'ll tell ye, ma\'am. It\'s a game Miss Pollyanna\'s father learned her\nter play. She got a pair of crutches once in a missionary barrel when\nshe was wantin\' a doll; an\' she cried, of course, like any child would.\nIt seems \'twas then her father told her that there wasn\'t ever anythin\'\nbut what there was somethin\' about it that you could be glad about; an\'\nthat she could be glad about them crutches.\"\n\n\"Glad for--CRUTCHES!\" Miss Polly choked back a sob--she was thinking of\nthe helpless little legs on the bed up-stairs.\n\n\"Yes\'m. That\'s what I said, an\' Miss Pollyanna said that\'s what she\nsaid, too. But he told her she COULD be glad--\'cause she DIDN\'T NEED\n\'EM.\"\n\n\"Oh-h!\" cried Miss Polly.\n\n\"And after that she said he made a regular game of it--findin\' somethin\'\nin everythin\' ter be glad about. An\' she said ye could do it, too, and\nthat ye didn\'t seem ter mind not havin\' the doll so much, \'cause ye was\nso glad ye DIDN\'T need the crutches. An\' they called it the \'jest bein\'\nglad\' game. That\'s the game, ma\'am. She\'s played it ever since.\"\n\n\"But, how--how--\" Miss Polly came to a helpless pause.\n\n\"An\' you\'d be surprised ter find how cute it works, ma\'am, too,\"\nmaintained Nancy, with almost the eagerness of Pollyanna herself. \"I\nwish I could tell ye what a lot she\'s done for mother an\' the folks out\nhome. She\'s been ter see \'em, ye know, twice, with me. She\'s made me\nglad, too, on such a lot o\' things--little things, an\' big things; an\'\nit\'s made \'em so much easier. For instance, I don\'t mind \'Nancy\' for\na name half as much since she told me I could be glad \'twa\'n\'t\n\'Hephzibah.\' An\' there\'s Monday mornin\'s, too, that I used ter hate so.\nShe\'s actually made me glad for Monday mornin\'s.\"\n\n\"Glad--for Monday mornings!\"\n\nNancy laughed.\n\n\"I know it does sound nutty, ma\'am. But let me tell ye. That blessed\nlamb found out I hated Monday mornin\'s somethin\' awful; an\' what does\nshe up an\' tell me one day but this: \'Well, anyhow, Nancy, I should\nthink you could be gladder on Monday mornin\' than on any other day in\nthe week, because \'twould be a whole WEEK before you\'d have another\none!\' An\' I\'m blest if I hain\'t thought of it ev\'ry Monday mornin\'\nsince--an\' it HAS helped, ma\'am. It made me laugh, anyhow, ev\'ry time I\nthought of it; an\' laughin\' helps, ye know--it does, it does!\"\n\n\"But why hasn\'t--she told me--the game?\" faltered Miss Polly. \"Why has\nshe made such a mystery of it, when I asked her?\"\n\nNancy hesitated.\n\n\"Beggin\' yer pardon, ma\'am, you told her not ter speak of--her father;\nso she couldn\'t tell ye. \'Twas her father\'s game, ye see.\"\n\nMiss Polly bit her lip.\n\n\"She wanted ter tell ye, first off,\" continued Nancy, a little\nunsteadily. \"She wanted somebody ter play it with, ye know. That\'s why I\nbegun it, so she could have some one.\"\n\n\"And--and--these others?\" Miss Polly\'s voice shook now.\n\n\"Oh, ev\'rybody, \'most, knows it now, I guess. Anyhow, I should think\nthey did from the way I\'m hearin\' of it ev\'rywhere I go. Of course she\ntold a lot, and they told the rest. Them things go, ye know, when they\ngets started. An\' she was always so smilin\' an\' pleasant ter ev\'ry\none, an\' so--so jest glad herself all the time, that they couldn\'t\nhelp knowin\' it, anyhow. Now, since she\'s hurt, ev\'rybody feels so\nbad--specially when they heard how bad SHE feels \'cause she can\'t find\nanythin\' ter be glad about. An\' so they\'ve been comin\' ev\'ry day ter\ntell her how glad she\'s made THEM, hopin\' that\'ll help some. Ye see,\nshe\'s always wanted ev\'rybody ter play the game with her.\"\n\n\"Well, I know somebody who\'ll play it--now,\" choked Miss Polly, as she\nturned and sped through the kitchen doorway.\n\nBehind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly.\n\n\"Well, I\'ll believe anythin\'--anythin\' now,\" she muttered to herself.\n\"Ye can\'t stump me with anythin\' I wouldn\'t believe, now--o\' Miss\nPolly!\"\n\nA little later, in Pollyanna\'s room, the nurse left Miss Polly and\nPollyanna alone together.\n\n\"And you\'ve had still another caller to-day, my dear,\" announced Miss\nPolly, in a voice she vainly tried to steady. \"Do you remember Mrs.\nPayson?\"\n\n\"Mrs. Payson? Why, I reckon I do! She lives on the way to Mr.\nPendleton\'s, and she\'s got the prettiest little girl baby three\nyears old, and a boy \'most five. She\'s awfully nice, and so\'s her\nhusband--only they don\'t seem to know how nice each other is. Sometimes\nthey fight--I mean, they don\'t quite agree. They\'re poor, too, they say,\nand of course they don\'t ever have barrels, \'cause he isn\'t a missionary\nminister, you know, like--well, he isn\'t.\"\n\nA faint color stole into Pollyanna\'s cheeks which was duplicated\nsuddenly in those of her aunt.\n\n\"But she wears real pretty clothes, sometimes, in spite of their being\nso poor,\" resumed Pollyanna, in some haste. \"And she\'s got perfectly\nbeautiful rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in them; but she\nsays she\'s got one ring too many, and that she\'s going to throw it away\nand get a divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? I\'m afraid it\nisn\'t very nice, because she didn\'t look happy when she talked about it.\nAnd she said if she did get it, they wouldn\'t live there any more, and\nthat Mr. Payson would go \'way off, and maybe the children, too. But I\nshould think they\'d rather keep the ring, even if they did have so many\nmore. Shouldn\'t you? Aunt Polly, what is a divorce?\"\n\n\"But they aren\'t going \'way off, dear,\" evaded Aunt Polly, hurriedly.\n\"They\'re going to stay right there together.\"\n\n\"Oh, I\'m so glad! Then they\'ll be there when I go up to see--O dear!\"\nbroke off the little girl, miserably. \"Aunt Polly, why CAN\'T I remember\nthat my legs don\'t go any more, and that I won\'t ever, ever go up to see\nMr. Pendleton again?\"\n\n\"There, there, don\'t,\" choked her aunt. \"Perhaps you\'ll drive up\nsometime. But listen! I haven\'t told you, yet, all that Mrs. Payson\nsaid. She wanted me to tell you that they--they were going to stay\ntogether and to play the game, just as you wanted them to.\"\n\nPollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes.\n\n\"Did they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of that!\"\n\n\"Yes, she said she hoped you\'d be. That\'s why she told you, to make\nyou--GLAD, Pollyanna.\"\n\nPollyanna looked up quickly.\n\n\"Why, Aunt Polly, you--you spoke just as if you knew--DO you know about\nthe game, Aunt Polly?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear.\" Miss Polly sternly forced her voice to be cheerfully\nmatter-of-fact. \"Nancy told me. I think it\'s a beautiful game. I\'m going\nto play it now--with you.\"\n\n\"Oh, Aunt Polly--YOU? I\'m so glad! You see, I\'ve really wanted you most\nof anybody, all the time.\"\n\nAunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It was even harder this\ntime to keep her voice steady; but she did it.\n\n\"Yes, dear; and there are all those others, too. Why, Pollyanna, I think\nall the town is playing that game now with you--even to the minister! I\nhaven\'t had a chance to tell you, yet, but this morning I met Mr. Ford\nwhen I was down to the village, and he told me to say to you that just\nas soon as you could see him, he was coming to tell you that he hadn\'t\nstopped being glad over those eight hundred rejoicing texts that you\ntold him about. So you see, dear, it\'s just you that have done it.\nThe whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully\nhappier--and all because of one little girl who taught the people a new\ngame, and how to play it.\"\n\nPollyanna clapped her hands.\n\n\"Oh, I\'m so glad,\" she cried. Then, suddenly, a wonderful light\nillumined her face. \"Why, Aunt Polly, there IS something I can be\nglad about, after all. I can be glad I\'ve HAD my legs, anyway--else I\ncouldn\'t have done--that!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW\n\nOne by one the short winter days came and went--but they were not\nshort to Pollyanna. They were long, and sometimes full of pain. Very\nresolutely, these days, however, Pollyanna was turning a cheerful face\ntoward whatever came. Was she not specially bound to play the game, now\nthat Aunt Polly was playing it, too? And Aunt Polly found so many things\nto be glad about! It was Aunt Polly, too, who discovered the story\none day about the two poor little waifs in a snow-storm who found a\nblown-down door to crawl under, and who wondered what poor folks did\nthat didn\'t have any door! And it was Aunt Polly who brought home the\nother story that she had heard about the poor old lady who had only two\nteeth, but who was so glad that those two teeth \"hit\"!\n\nPollyanna now, like Mrs. Snow, was knitting wonderful things out of\nbright colored worsteds that trailed their cheery lengths across the\nwhite spread, and made Pollyanna--again like Mrs. Snow--so glad she had\nher hands and arms, anyway.\n\nPollyanna saw people now, occasionally, and always there were the loving\nmessages from those she could not see; and always they brought her\nsomething new to think about--and Pollyanna needed new things to think\nabout.\n\nOnce she had seen John Pendleton, and twice she had seen Jimmy Bean.\nJohn Pendleton had told her what a fine boy Jimmy was getting to be, and\nhow well he was doing. Jimmy had told her what a first-rate home he had,\nand what bang-up \"folks\" Mr. Pendleton made; and both had said that it\nwas all owing to her.\n\n\"Which makes me all the gladder, you know, that I HAVE had my legs,\"\nPollyanna confided to her aunt afterwards.\n\n\nThe winter passed, and spring came. The anxious watchers over\nPollyanna\'s condition could see little change wrought by the prescribed\ntreatment. There seemed every reason to believe, indeed, that Dr. Mead\'s\nworst fears would be realized--that Pollyanna would never walk again.\n\nBeldingsville, of course, kept itself informed concerning Pollyanna; and\nof Beldingsville, one man in particular fumed and fretted himself into\na fever of anxiety over the daily bulletins which he managed in some way\nto procure from the bed of suffering. As the days passed, however,\nand the news came to be no better, but rather worse, something besides\nanxiety began to show in the man\'s face: despair, and a very dogged\ndetermination, each fighting for the mastery. In the end, the dogged\ndetermination won; and it was then that Mr. John Pendleton, somewhat\nto his surprise, received one Saturday morning a call from Dr. Thomas\nChilton.\n\n\"Pendleton,\" began the doctor, abruptly, \"I\'ve come to you because you,\nbetter than any one else in town, know something of my relations with\nMiss Polly Harrington.\"\n\nJohn Pendleton was conscious that he must have started visibly--he\ndid know something of the affair between Polly Harrington and Thomas\nChilton, but the matter had not been mentioned between them for fifteen\nyears, or more.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, trying to make his voice sound concerned enough for\nsympathy, and not eager enough for curiosity. In a moment he saw that he\nneed not have worried, however: the doctor was quite too intent on his\nerrand to notice how that errand was received.\n\n\"Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I\nMUST make an examination.\"\n\n\"Well--can\'t you?\"\n\n\"CAN\'T I! Pendleton, you know very well I haven\'t been inside that door\nfor more than fifteen years. You don\'t know--but I will tell you--that\nthe mistress of that house told me that the NEXT time she ASKED me to\nenter it, I might take it that she was begging my pardon, and that all\nwould be as before--which meant that she\'d marry me. Perhaps you see her\nsummoning me now--but I don\'t!\"\n\n\"But couldn\'t you go--without a summons?\"\n\nThe doctor frowned.\n\n\"Well, hardly. _I_ have some pride, you know.\"\n\n\"But if you\'re so anxious--couldn\'t you swallow your pride and forget\nthe quarrel--\"\n\n\"Forget the quarrel!\" interrupted the doctor, savagely. \"I\'m not talking\nof that kind of pride. So far as THAT is concerned, I\'d go from here\nthere on my knees--or on my head--if that would do any good. It\'s\nPROFESSIONAL pride I\'m talking about. It\'s a case of sickness, and I\'m a\ndoctor. I can\'t butt in and say, \'Here, take me!\'can I?\"\n\n\"Chilton, what was the quarrel?\" demanded Pendleton.\n\nThe doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to his feet.\n\n\"What was it? What\'s any lovers\' quarrel after it\'s over?\" he snarled,\npacing the room angrily. \"A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or\nthe depth of a river, maybe--it might as well be, so far as its having\nany real significance compared to the years of misery that follow them!\nNever mind the quarrel! So far as I am concerned, I am willing to say\nthere was no quarrel. Pendleton, I must see that child. It may mean life\nor death. It will mean--I honestly believe--nine chances out of ten that\nPollyanna Whittier will walk again!\"\n\nThe words were spoken clearly, impressively; and they were spoken just\nas the one who uttered them had almost reached the open window near John\nPendleton\'s chair. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached\nthe ears of a small boy kneeling beneath the window on the ground\noutside.\n\nJimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of pulling up the first little\ngreen weeds of the flowerbeds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open.\n\n\"Walk! Pollyanna!\" John Pendleton was saying. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean that from what I can hear and learn--a mile from her\nbedside--that her case is very much like one that a college friend of\nmine has just helped. For years he\'s been making this sort of thing a\nspecial study. I\'ve kept in touch with him, and studied, too, in a way.\nAnd from what I hear--but I want to SEE the girl!\"\n\nJohn Pendleton came erect in his chair.\n\n\"You must see her, man! Couldn\'t you--say, through Dr. Warren?\"\n\nThe other shook his head.\n\n\"I\'m afraid not. Warren has been very decent, though. He told me\nhimself that he suggested consultation with me at the first, but--Miss\nHarrington said no so decisively that he didn\'t dare venture it again,\neven though he knew of my desire to see the child. Lately, some of his\nbest patients have come over to me--so of course that ties my hands\nstill more effectually. But, Pendleton, I\'ve got to see that child!\nThink of what it may mean to her--if I do!\"\n\n\"Yes, and think of what it will mean--if you don\'t!\" retorted Pendleton.\n\n\"But how can I--without a direct request from her aunt?--which I\'ll\nnever get!\"\n\n\"She must be made to ask you!\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"I don\'t know.\"\n\n\"No, I guess you don\'t--nor anybody else. She\'s too proud and too angry\nto ask me--after what she said years ago it would mean if she did ask\nme. But when I think of that child, doomed to lifelong misery, and when\nI think that maybe in my hands lies a chance of escape, but for that\nconfounded nonsense we call pride and professional etiquette, I--\" He\ndid not finish his sentence, but with his hands thrust deep into his\npockets, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room again,\nangrily.\n\n\"But if she could be made to see--to understand,\" urged John Pendleton.\n\n\"Yes; and who\'s going to do it?\" demanded the doctor, with a savage\nturn.\n\n\"I don\'t know, I don\'t know,\" groaned the other, miserably.\n\nOutside the window Jimmy Bean stirred suddenly. Up to now he had\nscarcely breathed, so intently had he listened to every word.\n\n\"Well, by Jinks, I know!\" he whispered, exultingly. \"I\'M a-goin\' ter\ndo it!\" And forthwith he rose to his feet, crept stealthily around the\ncorner of the house, and ran with all his might down Pendleton Hill.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM\n\n\"It\'s Jimmy Bean. He wants ter see ye, ma\'am,\" announced Nancy in the\ndoorway.\n\n\"Me?\" rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. \"Are you sure he did not\nmean Miss Pollyanna? He may see her a few minutes to-day, if he likes.\"\n\n\"Yes\'m. I told him. But he said it was you he wanted.\"\n\n\"Very well, I\'ll come down.\" And Miss Polly arose from her chair a\nlittle wearily.\n\nIn the sitting room she found waiting for her a round-eyed,\nflushed-faced boy, who began to speak at once.\n\n\"Ma\'am, I s\'pose it\'s dreadful--what I\'m doin\', an\' what I\'m sayin\';\nbut I can\'t help it. It\'s for Pollyanna, and I\'d walk over hot coals for\nher, or face you, or--or anythin\' like that, any time. An\' I think you\nwould, too, if you thought there was a chance for her ter walk again.\nAn\' so that\'s why I come ter tell ye that as long as it\'s only pride an\'\net--et-somethin\' that\'s keepin\' Pollyanna from walkin\', why I knew you\nWOULD ask Dr. Chilton here if you understood--\"\n\n\"Wh-at?\" interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face\nchanging to one of angry indignation.\n\nJimmy sighed despairingly.\n\n\"There, I didn\'t mean ter make ye mad. That\'s why I begun by tellin\' ye\nabout her walkin\' again. I thought you\'d listen ter that.\"\n\n\"Jimmy, what are you talking about?\"\n\nJimmy sighed again.\n\n\"That\'s what I\'m tryin\' ter tell ye.\"\n\n\"Well, then tell me. But begin at the beginning, and be sure I\nunderstand each thing as you go. Don\'t plunge into the middle of it as\nyou did before--and mix everything all up!\"\n\nJimmy wet his lips determinedly.\n\n\"Well, ter begin with, Dr. Chilton come ter see Mr. Pendleton, an\' they\ntalked in the library. Do you understand that?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jimmy.\" Miss Polly\'s voice was rather faint.\n\n\"Well, the window was open, and I was weedin\' the flower-bed under it;\nan\' I heard \'em talk.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jimmy! LISTENING?\"\n\n\"\'Twa\'n\'t about me, an\' \'twa\'n\'t sneak listenin\',\" bridled Jimmy.\n\"And I\'m glad I listened. You will be when I tell ye. Why, it may make\nPollyanna--walk!\"\n\n\"Jimmy, what do you mean?\" Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly.\n\n\"There, I told ye so,\" nodded Jimmy, contentedly. \"Well, Dr. Chilton\nknows some doctor somewhere that can cure Pollyanna, he thinks--make her\nwalk, ye know; but he can\'t tell sure till he SEES her. And he wants ter\nsee her somethin\' awful, but he told Mr. Pendleton that you wouldn\'t let\nhim.\"\n\nMiss Polly\'s face turned very red.\n\n\"But, Jimmy, I--I can\'t--I couldn\'t! That is, I didn\'t know!\" Miss Polly\nwas twisting her fingers together helplessly.\n\n\"Yes, an\' that\'s what I come ter tell ye, so you WOULD know,\" asserted\nJimmy, eagerly. \"They said that for some reason--I didn\'t rightly catch\nwhat--you wouldn\'t let Dr. Chilton come, an\' you told Dr. Warren so; an\'\nDr. Chilton couldn\'t come himself, without you asked him, on account of\npride an\' professional et--et--well, et-somethin anyway. An\' they was\nwishin\' somebody could make you understand, only they didn\'t know who\ncould; an\' I was outside the winder, an\' I says ter myself right away,\n\'By Jinks, I\'ll do it!\' An\' I come--an\' have I made ye understand?\"\n\n\"Yes; but, Jimmy, about that doctor,\" implored Miss Polly, feverishly.\n\"Who was he? What did he do? Are they SURE he could make Pollyanna\nwalk?\"\n\n\"I don\'t know who he was. They didn\'t say. Dr. Chilton knows him, an\'\nhe\'s just cured somebody just like her, Dr. Chilton thinks. Anyhow,\nthey didn\'t seem ter be doin\' no worryin\' about HIM. \'Twas YOU they\nwas worryin\' about, \'cause you wouldn\'t let Dr. Chilton see her. An\'\nsay--you will let him come, won\'t you?--now you understand?\"\n\nMiss Polly turned her head from side to side. Her breath was coming\nin little uneven, rapid gasps. Jimmy, watching her with anxious eyes,\nthought she was going to cry. But she did not cry. After a minute she\nsaid brokenly:\n\n\"Yes--I\'ll let--Dr. Chilton--see her. Now run home, Jimmy--quick! I\'ve\ngot to speak to Dr. Warren. He\'s up-stairs now. I saw him drive in a few\nminutes ago.\"\n\nA little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet an agitated,\nflushed-faced Miss Polly in the hall. He was still more surprised to\nhear the lady say, a little breathlessly:\n\n\"Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. Chilton to be called in\nconsultation, and--I refused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very\nmuch desire that you SHOULD call in Dr. Chilton. Will you not ask him at\nonce--please? Thank you.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI. A NEW UNCLE\n\nThe next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber where Pollyanna lay\nwatching the dancing shimmer of color on the ceiling, a tall,\nbroad-shouldered man followed close behind him.\n\n\"Dr. Chilton!--oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am to see YOU!\" cried\nPollyanna. And at the joyous rapture of the voice, more than one pair of\neyes in the room brimmed hot with sudden tears. \"But, of course, if Aunt\nPolly doesn\'t want--\"\n\n\"It is all right, my dear; don\'t worry,\" soothed Miss Polly, agitatedly,\nhurrying forward. \"I have told Dr. Chilton that--that I want him to look\nyou over--with Dr. Warren, this morning.\"\n\n\"Oh, then you asked him to come,\" murmured Pollyanna, contentedly.\n\n\"Yes, dear, I asked him. That is--\" But it was too late. The adoring\nhappiness that had leaped to Dr. Chilton\'s eyes was unmistakable and\nMiss Polly had seen it. With very pink cheeks she turned and left the\nroom hurriedly.\n\nOver in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr.\nChilton held out both his hands to Pollyanna.\n\n\"Little girl, I\'m thinking that one of the very gladdest jobs you ever\ndid has been done to-day,\" he said in a voice shaken with emotion.\n\nAt twilight a wonderfully tremulous, wonderfully different Aunt Polly\ncrept to Pollyanna\'s bedside. The nurse was at supper. They had the room\nto themselves.\n\n\"Pollyanna, dear, I\'m going to tell you--the very first one of all. Some\nday I\'m going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your--uncle. And it\'s\nyou that have done it all. Oh, Pollyanna, I\'m so--happy! And\nso--glad!--darling!\"\n\nPollyanna began to clap her hands; but even as she brought her small\npalms together the first time, she stopped, and held them suspended.\n\n\"Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, WERE you the woman\'s hand and heart he wanted\nso long ago? You were--I know you were! And that\'s what he meant by\nsaying I\'d done the gladdest job of all--to-day. I\'m so glad! Why, Aunt\nPolly, I don\'t know but I\'m so glad that I don\'t mind--even my legs,\nnow!\"\n\nAunt Polly swallowed a sob.\n\n\"Perhaps, some day, dear--\" But Aunt Polly did not finish. Aunt Polly\ndid not dare to tell, yet, the great hope that Dr. Chilton had put into\nher heart. But she did say this--and surely this was quite wonderful\nenough--to Pollyanna\'s mind:\n\n\"Pollyanna, next week you\'re going to take a journey. On a nice\ncomfortable little bed you\'re going to be carried in cars and carriages\nto a great doctor who has a big house many miles from here made on\npurpose for just such people as you are. He\'s a dear friend of Dr.\nChilton\'s, and we\'re going to see what he can do for you!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA\n\n\"Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom:--Oh, I can--I can--I CAN walk! I did\nto-day all the way from my bed to the window! It was six steps. My, how\ngood it was to be on legs again!\n\n\"All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all the nurses stood\nbeside of them and cried. A lady in the next ward who walked last week\nfirst, peeked into the door, and another one who hopes she can walk next\nmonth, was invited in to the party, and she laid on my nurse\'s bed and\nclapped her hands. Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked through\nthe piazza window and called me \'Honey, child\' when she wasn\'t crying\ntoo much to call me anything.\n\n\"I don\'t see why they cried. _I_ wanted to sing and shout and yell!\nOh--oh--oh! just think, I can walk--walk--WALK! Now I don\'t mind being\nhere almost ten months, and I didn\'t miss the wedding, anyhow. Wasn\'t\nthat just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get married right\nbeside my bed, so I could see you. You always do think of the gladdest\nthings!\n\n\"Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way\nthere. I do. I don\'t think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any\nmore. It will be so good just to walk. Oh, I\'m so glad! I\'m glad for\neverything. Why, I\'m glad now I lost my legs for a while, for you never,\nnever know how perfectly lovely legs are till you haven\'t got them--that\ngo, I mean. I\'m going to walk eight steps to-morrow.\n\n\"With heaps of love to everybody,\n\n\"POLLYANNA.\"'"