© Вертягина А. А.

© Пилипюк Д.

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2017

Chapter I. Miss Polly

Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning. Nancy, who was washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise.

“Nancy!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued to wipe a pitcher in her hand.

“Nancy, when I’m talking to you, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I say.”

Nancy flushed. She set the pitcher down at once.

“Yes, ma’am.” Nancy said. She was wondering if she could ever please this woman. Nancy had never worked for anybody before; but her mother was a widow with three younger children besides Nancy herself. So she was very pleased when she found a place in the kitchen of the great house on the hill. Nancy came from “The Corners,” six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as the mistress of the old Harrington homestead. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly now as a stern woman who frowned if a knife clattered to the floor, or if a door banged.

“Finish your morning work, Nancy,” Miss Polly said, “and clear the little room in the attic and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room and clean it, of course, after you clear out boxes.”

Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: “I suppose I may as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, will soon live with me. She is eleven years old, and she will sleep in that room.”

“A little girl will soon be here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won’t that be nice!” cried Nancy.

“Nice? Well, that isn’t exactly the word I should use,” said Miss Polly, stiffly. “However, I am a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty.”

“Don’t forget to clean the corners, Nancy,” she finished sharply, as she left the room.

“Yes, ma’am,” sighed Nancy.

In her own room, Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had received two days before. The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont; and it read as follows:

“Dear Madam: – I regret to inform you that the Rev. John Whittier died two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old.

“I know he was your sister’s husband, but he gave me to understand the families were not on the best of terms . He thought, however, that you might wish to take the child and bring her up. Hence I am writing to you.

“Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain,

“Respectfully yours,

“Jeremiah O. White.”

Miss Polly answered the letter the day before, and she had said she would take the child, of course.

As she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her thoughts went back to her sister, Jennie, Pollianna’s mother, and to the time when Jennie, as a girl of twenty, married the young minister and went south with him. The family had little more to do with the missionary’s wife.

In one of her letters Jennie wrote about Pollyanna, her last baby, the other babies had all died. She named her “Pollyanna” for her two sisters, Polly and Anna.

A few years later they received the news of her death, told in a short, but heart-broken little note from the minister himself.

Miss Polly, looking out at the valley below, thought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her. She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. Father, mother, sisters – all were dead. She was mistress of the house and of the thousands left to her by her father. There were people who pitied her lonely life.

Miss Polly rose with frowning face. She was glad, of course, that she was a good woman, and that she not only knew her duty, but had strength of character to perform it. But – POLLYANNA! – what a ridiculous name!

Chapter II. Old Tom and Nancy

In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to interview Old Tom, the gardener.

“Mr. Tom, do you know that a little girl will soon come here to live with Miss Polly?”

“A – what?” demanded the old man.

“A little girl – to live with Miss Polly. She told me so herself,” said Nancy. “It’s her niece; and she’s eleven years old.”

The man’s jaw fell.

“Oh, it must be Miss Jennie’s little girl!”

“Who was Miss Jennie?”

“She was an angel,” breathed the man; “but the old master and mistress knew her as their oldest daughter. She was twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her babies all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be her.”

“And she’s going to sleep in the attic – more shame to HER!” scolded Nancy.

Old Tom smiled.

“I wonder what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,” he said.

“Well, I wonder what a child will do with Miss Polly in the house!” snapped Nancy.

The old man laughed.

“I’m afraid you aren’t fond of Miss Polly,” he grinned.

“As if ever anybody could be fond of her!” scorned Nancy.

“I guess maybe you didn’t know about Miss Polly’s love affair,” he said slowly.

“Love affair – HER! No!”

“You didn’t know Miss Polly as I did,” he said. “She used to be real handsome – and she would be now, if she’d let herself be.”

“Handsome! Miss Polly!”

“Yes, she is different now, I know. It begun then – at the time of the trouble with her lover,” nodded Old Tom; “and she is bitter and prickly to deal with.”

“Nancy!” called a sharp voice.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.

Chapter III. The Coming of Pollyanna

“Nancy,” Miss Polly said, “my niece will arrive tomorrow at four o’clock. You must meet her at the station. Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says ‘light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.’ That is all I know.”

Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and Nancy drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was Old Tom’s son. He was a good-natured youth, and a good-looking one, as well. The two were already good friends.

When they got to the station, Nancy hurried to a point where she could best watch the passengers. Over and over in her mind Nancy was saying it “light hair, red-checked dress, straw hat.” Over and over again she was wondering just what sort of child this Pollyanna was.

At last they saw her – the slender little girl in the red-checked gingham with two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her back. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled little face turned to the right and to the left, searching for some one.

“Are you Miss Pollyanna?” Nancy faltered.

“Oh, I’m so glad, GLAD, GLAD to see you,” cried an eager voice in her ear. “Of course I’m Pollyanna, and I’m so glad you came to meet me! I hoped you would.”

“You did?” stammered Nancy.

“Oh, yes!” cried the little girl. “And I’m glad you look just like you do look.”

Timothy came up.

“This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,” she stammered.

“Yes, I have,” nodded Pollyanna, importantly. “I’ve got a brand-new one. The Ladies’ Aid bought it for me.”

The three were off at last, with Pollyanna’s trunk in behind, and Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy. During the whole process of getting started, the little girl kept up an uninterrupted stream of comments and questions.

“There! Isn’t this lovely? Is it far? I hope it is – I love to ride,” sighed Pollyanna. What a pretty street! I knew it was going to be pretty; father told me – ”

She stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy saw that her small chin was quivering, and that her eyes were full of tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with a brave lifting of her head.

“Father has gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of us, you know. He said I must be glad. But it’s pretty hard to, because I need him, as mother and the rest have God and all the angels, while I don’t have anybody but the Ladies’ Aid. But now I’m sure it’ll be easier because I’ve got you, Aunt Polly. I’m so glad I’ve got you!”

“Oh, but – but you’ve made an awful mistake, dear,” she faltered. “I’m only Nancy. I’m not your Aunt Polly!”

“You – you AREN’T?” stammered the little girl.

“No. I’m only Nancy. I never thought you’re taking me for her.”

Timothy chuckled softly.

“But who ARE you?” asked Pollyanna.

“I’m Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washing and ironing.”

“But there IS an Aunt Polly?” demanded the child, anxiously.

“You bet your life there is,” cut in Timothy.

Pollyanna relaxed visibly.

“Oh, that’s all right, then.” There was a moment’s silence, then she went on brightly: “And do you know? I’m glad, after all, that she didn’t come to meet me; because now I’ve got you besides.”

“I–I was thinking about Miss Polly,” faltered Nancy.

Pollyanna sighed contentedly.

“I was, too. I’m so interested in her. You know she’s all the aunt I’ve got, and I didn’t know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. He said she lived in a lovely great big house “on top of a hill.”

“She does. You can see it now,” said Nancy. “It’s that big white one with the green blinds.”

“Oh, how pretty! – and what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I never saw such a lot of green grass. Is my Aunt Polly rich, Nancy?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I’m so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. Does Aunt Polly have ice-cream Sundays?”

“No, Miss. Your aunt doesn’t like ice-cream.”

Pollyanna’s face fell.

“Oh, doesn’t she? I’m so sorry! Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets, though.”

“Yes, she’s got the carpets.”

“In every room?”

“Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, thinking about the attic room where there was no carpet.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” exulted Pollyanna. “I love carpets. And Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly beautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a lion. Don’t you just love pictures?”

“I don’t know,” answered Nancy.

“I do. But we didn’t have any pictures. My! but isn’t this a perfectly beautiful house?” she broke off.

Chapter IV. The Little Attic Room

Miss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece.

“How do you do, Pollyanna? I – ”.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don’t know how to be glad enough that you let me come to live with you,” she was sobbing. “You don’t know how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this!”

“Nancy, you may go,” Aunt Polly said.

“We will go upstairs to your room, Pollyanna. Your trunk is already there, I presume. I told Timothy to take it up – if you had one. You may follow me.”

Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her chin was bravely high.

She was on the stairway now.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly,” breathed the little girl; “what a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully glad you must be you’re so rich!”

“PollyANNA!” ejaculated her aunt. “I’m surprised at you – making a speech like that to me!”

“Why, Aunt Polly, AREN’T you?” asked Pollyanna, in wonder.

“Certainly not, Pollyanna. How can I be proud of any gift the Lord has sent me?” declared the lady.

Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairway door. At the top of the stairs there were innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot. Pollyanna lifted her head higher – it seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw that her aunt threw open a door at the right.

“There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here. Do you have your key?”

Pollyanna nodded. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened.

Her aunt frowned.

“When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloud not merely with your head.”

“Yes, Aunt Polly.”

“Thank you; that is better. I believe you have everything that you need here,” she added. “I will send Nancy to help you unpack your truck. Supper is at six o’clock,” she finished and left the room.

For a moment Pollyanna stood quite still. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare floor, the bare windows and fell on her knees, covering her face with her hands.

Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later.

“There, there, you, poor lamb,” she crooned, drawing the little girl into her arms.

“Oh, Nancy, I’m so wicked,” she sobbed. “I just can’t understand why God and the angels need my father more than I do.”

“There, there, child, let’s have your key and we’ll get inside this trunk and take out your dresses.”

Pollyanna produced the key.

“There aren’t very many there,” she faltered.

“Then they’re all soon be unpacked,” declared Nancy.

“It’s such a nice room! Don’t you think so?” Pollyanna stammered.

There was no answer. Nancy was very busy with the trunk.

“And I can be glad there isn’t any looking-glass here, too, because where there ISN’T any glass I can’t see my freckles.”

A few minutes later, Pollyanna clapped her hands joyously.

“Oh, Nancy, look at these trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, and the river. Oh, I’m so glad now she let me have this room!”

To Pollyanna’s surprise, Nancy burst into tears.

“Why, Nancy – what is it?” she cried; “This wasn’t – YOUR room, was it?”

“My room!” stormed Nancy. “You are a little angel straight from Heaven!”

After that Nancy sprang to her feet and went down the stairs.

Left alone, Pollyanna went back to her “picture,” as she mentally designated the beautiful view from the window. The next moment she opened the window. She ran then to the other window and opened it too. Then Pollyanna made a wonderful discovery – against this window there was a huge tree. Suddenly she laughed aloud.

“I believe I can do it,” she chuckled. The next moment she climbed to the window ledge. From there it was easy to step to the nearest tree-branch. Then she reached the lowest branch and dropped to the ground.

She was at the back of the house. Then Pollyanna reached the path that ran through the open field.

Fifteen minutes later the great clock struck six. At the last stroke Nancy sounded the bell for supper.

One, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly frowned. She rose to her feet, went into the hall, and looked upstairs. For a minute she listened; then she turned and went to the dining room.

“Nancy,” she said, “my niece is late. You need not call her,” she added. “I told her what time supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. She must learn to be punctual. When she comes she may have bread and milk in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At the possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up to the attic room.

She softly pushed open the door. The next moment she gave a frightened cry. “Where are you?” she panted, and flew to Old Tom in the garden.

“Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, that blessed child’s gone,” she cried.

The old man stopped, straightened up and pointed at the slender figure on top of a huge rock.

Chapter V. The Game

“Miss Pollyanna, what a scare you did give me,” panted Nancy, hurrying up to the big rock.

“Scare? Oh, I’m so sorry; but you mustn’t, really, ever get scared about me, Nancy,” said Pollyanna and slid down the rock.

“I didn’t see you go, and nobody didn’t. I guess you flew right up through the roof; I do, I do. Poor little lamb, you must be hungry, too. I–I’m afraid you’ll have to have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Your aunt didn’t like it – because you didn’t come down to supper.”

“But I couldn’t. I was up here. But I’m glad.”

“Glad! Why?”

“I like bread and milk, and I’d like to eat with you. I don’t see any trouble about being glad about that.”

“You don’t seem to see any trouble being glad about everything,” retorted Nancy.

Pollyanna laughed softly.

“Well, that’s the game, you know, anyway.”

“The – GAME?”

“Yes; the ‘just being glad’ game.”

“Whatever in the world are you talking about?”

“Why, it’s a game. Father told it to me, and it’s lovely. We’ve played it always, ever since I was a little, little girl. I told the Ladies’ Aid, and they played it – some of them… Only sometimes it’s almost too hard especially when your father goes to Heaven… I suppose, though, it’ll be a little harder now, as long as I haven’t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will play it, though,” she added.

“See here, Miss Pollyanna, I’m not sure that I’ll play it very well, and I don’t know how but I’ll play it with you, I will!”

“Oh, Nancy! That’ll be splendid!”

“Maybe,” said Nancy, in open doubt. “You mustn’t count too much on me but I’ll try to play it with you,” she finished, as they entered the kitchen together.

Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite and went into the sitting room, where her aunt sat reading. Miss Polly looked up coldly.

“Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?”

“Yes, Aunt Polly.”

“I’m very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.”

“But I was really glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and Nancy, too. You mustn’t feel bad about that.”

Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair.

“Pollyanna, go to bed. It was a hard day, and tomorrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see what it is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. Good night.”

Pollyanna came straight to her aunt’s side and gave her an affectionate hug.

“I know I’m going to just love living with you but then. Good night,” she said cheerfully, as she ran from the room.

“What a most extraordinary child!” Aunt Polly said. Then she frowned. “She’s ‘glad’ I punished her, and I ‘mustn’t feel bad about that,’ and she’s going to ‘love to live’ with me! Well, upon my soul!”

Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the sheet:

“I know, father-among-the-angels, I’m not playing the game; I don’t believe even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone in the dark. If only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies’ Aider, it would be easier!”

Chapter VI. A Question of Duty

It was nearly seven o’clock when Pollyanna awoke that first day after her arrival. Her windows faced the south and the west, so she could not see the sun yet; but she could see the morning sky, and she knew that the day promised to be a fair one.

Pollyanna ran to the garden where she saw Aunt Polly with an old man.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I am glad this morning just to be alive!”

“PollyANNA!” said Aunt Polly, “is this the usual way you say good morning?”

“I saw you from my window and I decided to hug you!”

The old man turned his back suddenly.

“Do you always work in the garden, Mister?” asked Pollyanna.

The man turned. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Yes, Miss. I’m Old Tom, the gardener,” he answered. “You are so like your mother, little Miss! I used to know her when she was a young girl. You see, I used to work in the garden – then.”

“You did? And you knew my mother, really? Oh, please tell me about her!”

A bell sounded from the house. The next moment Nancy appeared.

“Miss Pollyanna, that bell means breakfast,” she said, pulling the little girl to her feet and hurrying her back to the house; “and other times it means other meals. But it always means that you must run when you hear it, no matter where you are.” she finished, shooing Pollyanna into the house.

Half an hour after breakfast Miss Polly entered Pollyanna’s room.

“Pollyanna, you may bring out your clothes now, and I will look them over. What are not suitable for you I shall give to the Sullivans, of course.”

Pollyanna dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out all the poor little dresses in both her arms.

With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna.

Aunt Polly turned to Pollyanna abruptly.

“You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?”

“Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, I was taught at home, too.”

Miss Polly frowned.

“Very good. In autumn you will enter school here, of course. Mr. Hall, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong.”

“I love to read; but if you don’t want to hear me I will be glad to read to myself, Aunt Polly.”

“I don’t doubt it,” rejoined Miss Polly. “Have you studied music?”

“Not much. I don’t like my music. Though I learned to play the piano a little.”

“Nevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are properly instructed in at least the rudiments of music. You sew, of course.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pollyanna sighed. “The Ladies’ Aid taught me that.”

“I shall teach you sewing myself, of course. You do not know how to cook, I presume.”

Pollyanna laughed suddenly.

“They were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I hadn’t got far.”

“At nine o’clock every morning you will read aloud one half-hour to me. Before that you will use the time to put this room in order. Wednesday and Saturday, after half-past nine, you will spend with Nancy in the kitchen, learning to cook. Other mornings you will sew with me. That will leave the afternoons for your music,” she finished.

Pollyanna cried out in dismay.

“Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven’t left me any time at all just to – to live.”

“To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren’t living all the time!”

“I mean living – doing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading to myself, climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy. That’s what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn’t living!”

“Pollyanna, you ARE the most extraordinary child! You will be allowed a proper amount of playtime, of course. Just be grateful.

Pollyanna looked shocked.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungrateful to YOU! I LOVE YOU, you’re my aunt!”

“Very well; then don’t act ungrateful,” said Miss Polly and turned toward the door.

She had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called after her:

“Please, Aunt Polly, you didn’t tell me which of my things you wanted to give away.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pollyanna. Timothy will drive us into town at half past one this afternoon. Not one of your garments is fit for my niece to wear.”

Chapter VII. Pollyanna and Punishments

The shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon; then came supper and a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden, and another with Nancy on the back porch.

Old Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her mother and she felt very happy indeed; and Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles away at “The Corners,” where lived her own dear mother, and her dear brother and sisters. She promised, too, that some time, if Miss Polly were willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them.

“And THEY’VE got lovely names, too. You’ll like THEIR names,” sighed Nancy. “They’re ‘Algernon,’ and ‘Florabelle’ and ‘Estelle.’ I–I just hate ‘Nancy’!”

“Oh, Nancy, why?”

“Because it isn’t pretty like the others.”

“But I love ‘Nancy,’ just because it’s you,” declared Pollyanna. “Well, anyhow,” she chuckled, “you can be glad your name isn’t ‘Hephzibah’.”

“Hephzibah!”

“Yes. Mrs. White’s name is that. Her husband calls her ‘Hep’ and she doesn’t like it. She says when he calls out ‘Hep – Hep!’ she feels just as if the next minute he was going to yell ‘Hurrah!’ And she doesn’t like it.”

Nancy smiled.

“Say, Miss Pollyanna, were you playing that game about my being glad I’m not ‘Hephzibah’?”

Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed.

“Why, Nancy, that’s so! I WAS playing the game – but that’s one of the times I just did it without thinking, I reckon.”

“Well, m-maybe,” granted Nancy, with open doubt.

At half past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. It was very hot in her room and she could not sleep. It seemed to her that it must have been hours before she finally slipped out of bed and opened her door.

Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness except where the moon flung a path of silver near the east window. She saw something else: she saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat roof of Miss Polly’s sun parlor. If only, now, she were out there!

Suddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window a row of long white bags hanging from nails. She selected a nice fat soft bag for a bed; another bag for a pillow, and a thin bag which seemed almost empty for a covering. Then she stuffed her burden through the window to the roof below, then let herself down after it.

How deliciously cool it was! The roof under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna rather liked. She walked, indeed, two or three times back and forth from end to end. Finally, with a sigh of content, she settled herself to sleep on the bag.

Downstairs in Miss Polly herself was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and frightened. A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice to Timothy:

“Come up quick! – you and your father. Bring lanterns. Somebody is on the roof of the sun parlor. And he can get right into the house through the east window in the attic!”

Some time later, Pollyanna was startled by a lantern flash. She opened her eyes to find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom just getting through the window, and her aunt looking at her in surprise.

“Pollyanna, what does this mean?” cried Aunt Polly then.

“Why, Mr. Tom – Aunt Polly! Don’t look so scared!”

Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. Old Tom handed his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son. Miss Polly said sternly:

“Pollyanna, hand those things to me at once and come in here!” she ejaculated a little later, as, with Pollyanna by her side, and the lantern in her hand, she turned back into the attic.

At the top of the stairs Miss Polly said:

“For the rest of the night, Pollyanna, you are to sleep in my bed with me. I consider it my duty to keep you where I know where you are.”

“With you? – in your bed?” Pollyanna cried rapturously. “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely of you! And when I’ve so wanted to sleep with someone sometime – someone that belonged to me, you know.”

There was no reply. Miss Polly, to tell the truth, was feeling curiously helpless. For the third time since Pollyanna’s arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Pollyanna – and for the third time she was being confronted with the amazing fact that her punishment was being taken as a special reward of merit. No wonder Miss Polly was feeling curiously helpless.

Chapter VIII. Pollyanna Pays a Visit

It was not long before life at the Harrington homestead settled into something like order. Pollyanna sewed, played the piano, read aloud, and studied cooking in the kitchen. But she had more time, also, to “just live,” as she expressed it, for almost all afternoon from two until six o’clock she could do everything she liked except the certain things already prohibited by Aunt Polly.

There were no children in the neighborhood of the Harrington homestead for Pollyanna to play with. This, however, did not seem to disturb Pollyanna in the least.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind it at all,” she explained to Nancy. “I’m happy just to walk around and see the streets and the houses and watch the people. I just love people.”

Almost every afternoon Pollyanna begged for “an errand to run,” so that she could be off for a walk in one direction or another; and it was on these walks that frequently she met the Man. To herself Pollyanna always called him “the Man,” no matter if she met a dozen other men the same day.

The Man often wore a long black coat and a high hat. His face was clean shaven and rather pale, and his hair, showing below his hat, was gray. He walked erect, and rather rapidly, and he was always alone, and Pollyanna felt sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that she one day spoke to him.

“How do you do, sir? Isn’t this a nice day?” she called cheerily, as she approached him.

The man stopped uncertainly.

“Did you speak – to me?” he asked in a sharp voice.

“Yes, sir, I say, it’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

“Eh? Oh! Humph!” he grunted; and strode on again.

Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought.

The next day she saw him again.

“It isn’t quite so nice as yesterday, but it’s pretty nice,” she called out cheerfully.

“Eh? Oh! Humph!” grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna laughed happily.

When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner, the man stopped.

“See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every day?”

“I’m Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I’m so glad you stopped. Now we’re introduced – only I don’t know your name yet.”

“Well, of all the – ” The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on faster than ever.

Pollyanna looked after him disappointed.

“Maybe he didn’t understand – but that was only half an introduction. I don’t know HIS name, yet.” she murmured.

Pollyanna was carrying calf’s-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow today. Miss Polly Harrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said it was her duty, as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and a member of her church – it was the duty of all the church members to look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow usually on Thursday afternoons – not personally, but through Nancy. Today Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given it to her in accordance with Miss Polly’s orders.

“I’m glad that I won’t go to her,” Nancy declared to Pollyanna.

“But, why, Nancy?”

Nancy shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, it’s just that nothing whatever has happened, has happened right in Mis’ Snow’s eyes. If you bring her jelly you’ll certainly hear she wanted chicken – but if you DID bring her chicken, she says she wanted lamb broth!”

“What a funny woman,” laughed Pollyanna. “I think I shall like to go to see her. She must be so surprising and – and different. I love DIFFERENT people.”

Pollyanna was thinking of Nancy’s remarks today as she turned in at the gate of the shabby little cottage.

A pale, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door.

“How do you do?” began Pollyanna politely. “I’m from Miss Polly Harrington, and I’d like to see Mrs. Snow, please.”

In the dark and gloomy sick-room, Polyanna saw a woman half-sitting up in the bed.

“How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are comfortable today, and she sent you some calf’s-foot jelly.”

“Dear me! Jelly? Of course I’m very much obliged, but I hoped it would be lamb broth today.”

Pollyanna frowned a little.

“Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks brought you jelly,” she said.

“What?” The sick woman turned sharply.

“Why, nothing, much,” apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly; “and of course it doesn’t really make any difference. It’s only that Nancy said it was chicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and lamb broth when we brought chicken – but maybe it was the other way, and Nancy forgot.”

“Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?” she demanded.

Pollyanna laughed.

“Oh, THAT isn’t my name. I’m Pollyanna Whittier, Miss Polly Harrington’s niece, and I live with her now. That’s why I’m here with the jelly this morning.”

“Very well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but my appetite isn’t very good this morning, and I was wanting lamb – ” She stopped suddenly.

“Here! Can you go to that window and pull up the curtain?” she asked. “I want to know what you look like!”

“O dear! then you’ll see my freckles, won’t you?” she sighed, as she went to the window; “I’m so glad you wanted to see me, because now I can see you! They didn’t tell me you were so pretty!”

“Me! – pretty!” scoffed the woman.

“Why, yes. Didn’t you know it?” cried Pollyanna.

“Well, no, I didn’t,” retorted Mrs. Snow.

“Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hair’s all dark, too, and curly,” said Pollyanna. “I love black curls. Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! I should think you’d know it when you looked at yourself in the glass.”

“Wait – just let me show you,” she exclaimed, picking up a small mirror.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to fix your hair just a little before I let you see it,” she proposed.

“Why, I – suppose so, if you want to,” permitted Mrs. Snow.

For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly.

“There!” panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase and tucking it into the dark hair. “Now I reckon we’re ready to be looked at!” And she held out the mirror in triumph.

“Humph!” grunted the sick woman, looking at her reflection severely. “I like red pinks better than pink ones; but then, it’ll fade before night.”

“I just love your hair fluffed out like that,” she finished. “Don’t you?”

“Hm-m; maybe. But it won’t last.”

“Of course not – and I’m glad, too,” nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully, “because then I can fix it again. Oh, I love black hair!”

“Well, you wouldn’t be glad for black hair nor anything else – if you had to lie here all day as I do!”

“Anyway, you must be glad about things.”

“Be glad about things – when you’re sick in bed all your days?!”

“That’s really hard really. But now I must go. I’ll think about it all the way home. Goodbye!”

“What does she mean by that?” Mrs. Snow thought. She turned her head and picked up the mirror.

“That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake,” she said.

When a little later, Milly, Mrs. Snow’s daughter, came in, she said,

“I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress – instead of lamb broth, for a change!”

Chapter IX. Which Tells of the Man

It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, with a smile.

“How do you do?” she called.

The man stopped abruptly.

“See here, why don’t you find someone your own age to talk to?”

“I’d like to, sir, but there aren’t any around here. Still, I don’t mind so very much. I like old folks just as well, maybe better, sometimes – being used to the Ladies’ Aid, so.”

“Humph! The Ladies’ Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for?”

Pollyanna laughed gleefully.

“Oh, no, sir. You don’t look like a Ladies’ Aider. Though I’m sure you’re much nicer than you look!”

The man turned and strode on as before.

The next time Pollyanna met the Man, he greeted her. The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke first, though usually he said just “good afternoon.” Even that was a great surprise to Nancy.

“Miss Pollyanna,” she gasped, “did that man SPEAK TO YOU?”

“Why, yes, he always does – now,” smiled Pollyanna.

“‘He always does’! Do you know who – he – is?” demanded Nancy.

Pollyanna frowned and shook her head.

“I reckon he forgot to tell me one day.”

“But he never speaks to anybody, I guess, except when he speaks about business. He’s John Pendleton. He lives in the big house on Pendleton Hill. He is very rich. But he doesn’t spend money he just saves it. Usually he doesn’t speak to anyone; and he lives all alone in that great big lovely house all full of grand things, they say. Some people even think he’s crazy. And EVERYBODY says he’s mysterious.” She went on: “He travels a lot and writes books.”

“Oh, Nancy!” Pollyanna exclaimed. “He is a funny man, and he’s different, too, just like Mrs. Snow, only he’s a different differently.”

“Well, I guess he is,” chuckled Nancy.

“I’m so glad that he speaks to me,” sighed Pollyanna contentedly.

Chapter X. A Surprise for Mrs. Snow

The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room.

“It’s the little girl from Miss Polly’s, mother,” announced Milly.

“Oh, it’s you?” asked a voice from the bed. I wish you had come yesterday.”

“Did you? Well, I’m glad,” Pollyanna entered the room and set her basket carefully down on a chair. “It’s so dark here! I can’t see you,” she cried. After that Pollyanna pulled up the shade.

Mrs. Snow turned her eyes toward the basket. “Well, what is it?”

“Guess! What do you want?”

The sick woman frowned.

“Why, I don’t WANT anything,” she sighed. “After all, they all taste alike!”

Pollyanna chuckled.

“If you DID want something, what would it be?”

The woman hesitated.

“Well, of course, there’s lamb broth – ”

“I’ve got it!” crowed Pollyanna.

“But that’s what I DIDN’T want,” sighed the sick woman. “It was chicken I wanted.”

“Oh, I’ve got that, too,” chuckled Pollyanna.

The woman turned in amazement.

“Both of them?” she demanded.

“Yes – and calf’s-foot jelly,” triumphed Pollyanna. “I was just bound you should have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. “I’ll leave them all,” announced Pollyanna.

Suddenly Milly appeared at the door.

“Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna.

Pollyanna rose.

“All right,” she sighed. “Goodbye, I’m awfully sorry about the hair – I wanted to do it. But maybe I can next time!”

One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days, indeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy they were. Her aunt usually replied:

“Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are happy; but I trust that they are profitable, as well – otherwise I should have failed signally in my duty.”

“Is just being glad isn’t pro-fi-ta-ble?” asked Pollyanna, a little anxiously.

“Certainly not.”

“Oh dear! I’m afraid, now, you won’t ever play the game, Aunt Polly.”

“Game? What game?”

“Why, that father – ” Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. “N-nothing,” she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.

It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway.

“Why, Aunt Polly,” she cried. “You were coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company,” said Pollyanna, “especially since I’ve had this room, all mine, you know. And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasn’t got the carpets and curtains and pictures – ” With a painful blush Pollyanna stopped.

“What’s that, Pollyanna?”

Pollyanna blushed still more painfully.

“I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,” she apologized. “It was only because I’d always wanted them and hadn’t had them, I suppose.”

Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red.

“That will do, Pollyanna,” she said.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy:

“Nancy, move Miss Pollyanna’s things downstairs this morning to the room directly beneath.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Nancy aloud.

“O glory!” said Nancy to herself.

To Pollyanna, a minute later, she cried joyously:

“You’re to sleep downstairs in the room straight under this!”

“You mean – why, Nancy, not really – really and truly?”

“Your aunt told me to take your things down. And I’m going to take them there now.”

Pollyanna did not stop to hear the end of this sentence. She flied downstairs to Aunt Polly.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, did you mean it, really? Why, that room’s got EVERYTHING – the carpet and curtains and three pictures. Oh, Aunt Polly!”

“Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified that you like the change, of course; but if you think so much of all those things, I trust you will take proper care of them.

But Pollyanna had gone to help Nancy bring down “her things”.

Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed but she was glad!

Chapter XI. Introducing Jimmy

August came. August brought several surprises and some changes.

First there was the kitten.

Pollyanna found the kitten mewing distance down the road. Nobody wanted to take it and Pollyanna brought it home.

“I was glad I didn’t find any one who owned it,” she told her aunt in happy confidence; “because I wanted to bring it home all the time. I love kitties. I knew you’d be glad to let it live here.”

“Of course I knew,” added Pollyanna, gratefully, “that you wouldn’t let a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you’d just taken ME in.”

“But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Miss Polly. “I don’t – ”

But Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling:

“Nancy, Nancy, just see this dear little kitty that Aunt Polly is going to bring up along with me!”

The next day it was a dog; and again Miss Polly found herself as before powerless to remonstrate.

Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best friends now. And Mrs. Snow herself was playing the game now, with Pollyanna. To be sure, she was not playing it very well – but under Pollyanna’s cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning fast. That day she was carrying calf’s-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow when suddenly she saw a boy. The boy was sitting by the roadside.

“Hullo,” smiled Pollyanna.

The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once.

“Hullo yourself,” he mumbled.

Pollyanna laughed. She hesitated, but then sat comfortably down on the grass near him.

“My name’s Pollyanna Whittier,” she began pleasantly. “What’s yours?”

“Jimmy Bean,” he grunted with ungracious indifference.

“Good! Now we’re introduced. Where do you live?”

“Nowhere.”

“Nowhere! Why, you can’t do that – everybody lives somewhere,” asserted Pollyanna.

“Well, I don’t – just now. I’m hunting up a new place.”

“Oh! Where is it?”

The boy looked at her with scornful eyes.

“Silly! As if I’d be hunting for it – if I knew!”

“Where did you live – before?” she asked.

“All right then —! I’m Jimmy Bean, and I’m ten years old. I came last year to live at the Orphans’ Home; but I’ve left it. I’m going to live somewhere else. I’d LIKE to have a home. Since my parents died I’ve tried four houses, but – they didn’t want me – though I said I wanted to work, of course. There! Is that all you want to know?”

“O dear! I know just how you feel, because after – after my father died, too, there wasn’t anybody but the Ladies’ Aid for me, until Aunt Polly said – ”

Pollyanna stopped abruptly.

“Oh, I know just the place for you,” she cried. “Aunt Polly will take you – I know she will! Didn’t she take me? And didn’t she take Fluffy and Buffy, when they didn’t have any one to love them, or any place to go? – and they’re only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly’ll take you! You don’t know how good and kind she is!”

Jimmy Bean’s thin little face brightened.

“I will work, and I’m really strong!” He bared a small, bony arm.

When they reached the house, Pollyanna piloted her companion straight to her amazed aunt.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, just look here! I’ve got something nicer, even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up. It’s a real live boy. And he says he’ll work.”

“Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did you find him?” she demanded sharply.

“This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.”

“Well, what is he doing here?”

“Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!” Pollyanna’s eyes were wide with surprise. “He’s for you. I brought him home – so he could live here, you know. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me, and to Fluffy and Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, because of course he’s even nicer than cats and dogs.”

Miss Polly dropped back in her chair.

“That will do, Pollyanna. This is absurd. He is just a ragged little beggar from the street, who – ”

Jimmy’s eyes flashed. There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and he confronted Miss Polly fearlessly.

“I’m not a beggar, ma’am, and I don’t want anything from you. I just wanted some work and the place to live. I wouldn’t have come to your old house, but this girl told me you’re so good and kind that you’d be just dying to take me in. So, there!” And he went away with dignity.

“Oh, Aunt Polly,” choked Pollyanna. “Why, I thought you’d be GLAD to have him here!”

“Pollyanna,” she cried sharply, “WILL you stop using that everlasting word ‘glad’!”

Pollyanna’s jaw dropped.

Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, she overtook him.

“Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how – how sorry I am,” she panted.

“I’m not blaming you,” retorted the boy, sullenly. “But I’m not beggar!” he added.

“Of course, you aren’t! But you mustn’t blame auntie,” appealed Pollyanna. “Probably I didn’t do the introducing right, anyhow; and I reckon I didn’t tell her much who you were. She is good and kind, really —; but I probably didn’t explain it right.”

The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away.

“Never mind. But I’m no beggar, you know.”

“I know what I will do! The Ladies’ Aid meets this afternoon.”

“Well, what is a Ladies’ Aid?”

“It’s just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give suppers and raise money and – and talk; that’s what a Ladies’ Aid is. They’re awfully kind. I’m going to tell them about you this afternoon.”

The boy turned fiercely.

“Maybe you think I’m going to stand in front of them and hear how all these women call me a beggar, instead of just ONE? No!”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be there,” argued Pollyanna. “I will go alone, of course, and tell them. And I’m sure someone would be glad to give you a home.”

“Don’t forget to tell them I can work,” the boy said.

“Then I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“By the road – where I found you today; near Mrs. Snow’s house.”

“All right. I’ll be there.”

“Goodbye!” she called brightly.

Miss Polly stood at the sitting-room window and watched them. In her ears still was the boy’s scornful “you’re so good and kind.” In her heart was a curious sense of desolation – as of something lost.

Chapter XII. Before The Ladies’ Aid

Next day Aunt Polly told the minister’s wife over the telephone, that she would not be at the Ladies’ Aid meeting that afternoon, owing to a headache.

The Ladies’ Aid met at two o’clock in the chapel next the church.

Pollyanna ascended the chapel steps, pushed open the door and entered the vestibule.

“How do you do, Ladies’ Aiders?” she faltered politely. “I’m Pollyanna Whittier. I–I reckon some of you know me, maybe.”

Some of the ladies did know this rather extraordinary niece of their fellow-member, but nearly all had heard of her; but not one of them could think of anything to say, just then.

“I–I’ve come to – to lay the case before you,” stammered Pollyanna, after a moment.

“Did – did your aunt send you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Ford, the minister’s wife.

“Oh, no. I came all by myself.”

“Yes, dear. What is it?”

“Well, it – it’s Jimmy Bean,” sighed Pollyanna. “He hasn’t any home except the Orphan one, and he wants one of the common kind. He’s ten years old. I think some of you might like him – to live with you, you know.”

“Well —!” murmured a voice.

“Oh, I forgot to say; he will work,” she said.

One or two women began to question her. After a time they all had the story and began to talk among themselves.

Pollyanna listened with growing anxiety. Some of what was said she could not understand. After a time, however, she understood that there was no woman who had a home to give him.

It seemed that their society was famous for its offering to Hindu missions. Most of what was said Pollyanna could not understand, but the most important thing was clear to her. Ladies’ Aid had decided that they would rather send all their money to bring up the little Indian boys than to save out enough to bring up one little boy in their own town.

Chapter XIII. In Pendleton Woods

After the meeting Pollyanna didn’t go home but turned instead toward Pendleton Hill. It was a “vacation day” (the day when there was no sewing or cooking lesson), and Pollyanna was sure that nothing would do her quite so much good as a walk through the green quiet of Pendleton Woods.

It was very beautiful in the Pendleton Woods, as Pollyanna knew by experience.

Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked some distance ahead. A moment later she saw the dog.

“Hullo, doggie!” Pollyanna recognized Mr. Pendleton’s dog.

The dog, as Pollyanna could see, was acting strangely. He was still barking and running back and forth. Pollyanna followed the dog.

“Ho! That isn’t the way home,” laughed Pollyanna.

The little dog seemed frantic now. Back and forth, back and forth, and then it ran to the side path. Polyanna followed it again. And soon Pollyanna saw a man lying motionless at the rock a few yards from the side path.

A twig cracked sharply under Pollyanna’s foot, and the man turned his head. Pollyanna ran to his side.

“Mr. Pendleton! Oh, are you hurt?”

“Hurt? Oh, no! I’m just taking a siesta in the sunshine,” snapped the man irritably. “See here, how much do you know? What can you do? Have you got any sense?”

Pollyanna answered the questions literally, one by one.

“Why, Mr. Pendleton, I–I don’t know so very much, and I can’t do a great many things; but most of the Ladies’ Aiders said I had real good sense.

The man smiled grimly.

“There, there, child, I beg your pardon. Now listen.” He paused, and with some difficulty reached his hand into his trousers pocket and brought out a key. “About five minutes’ walk, is my house. This key will admit you to the side door. When you get into the house, go straight through the vestibule and hall to the door at the end. On the big desk in the middle of the room you’ll find a telephone. Do you know how to use a telephone?”

“Oh, yes, sir!”

“Find Dr. Thomas Chilton’s number on the card you’ll find somewhere around there. Call Dr. Chilton and tell him that John Pendleton is at the foot of Little Eagle Ledge in Pendleton Woods with a broken leg, and to come at once with a stretcher and two men. He’ll know what to do.”

Pollyanna did not stop until she reached the house. When she opened the door she caught her breath. This was John Pendleton’s house; the house of mystery.

The room was large, and there was a big desk in the middle of the room. It was toward this desk that Pollyanna hurriedly tiptoed.

Pollyanna found the telephone card and called Dr. Chilton. She delivered her message and answered the doctor’s pertinent questions. After that she hung up the receiver and drew a long breath of relief.

In what seemed, even to the injured man, an incredibly short time, Pollyanna was back in the woods.

“Well, what is the trouble? Couldn’t you get in?” he demanded.

Pollyanna opened wide her eyes.

“Why, of course I could! I’m HERE,” she answered, “and the doctor will be here as soon as possible with the men and things. He said he knew just where you were, so I didn’t stay to show him the way. I wanted to be with you.”

The man smiled grimly. “Well, I can’t say I admire your taste. I think you could find pleasanter companions.”

“Do you mean – because you’re so – cross?”

“Thanks for your frankness. Yes.”

Pollyanna laughed softly.

“But you’re only cross OUTSIDE – you aren’t cross inside!”

“How do you know that?” asked the man.

“Oh, lots of ways; there – like that – the way you act with the dog,” she added, pointing to his hand that rested on the dog’s head near him. “It’s funny how dogs and cats know the insides of folks better than other folks do, isn’t it? Now I’m going to hold your head,” she finished abruptly.

He did not speak again for some time. Pollyanna, watching his face, wondered if he were asleep. She did not think he was. He looked as if his lips were tight shut to keep back moans of pain.

Minute by minute the time passed.

At last the dog gave a short, sharp bark. The next moment Pollyanna heard voices, and very soon their owners appeared three men carrying a stretcher and various other articles.

Dr. Chilton advanced cheerily.

“Well, my little lady, playing nurse?”

“Oh, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “I just held his head. But I’m glad I was here.”

“So am I,” nodded the doctor and turned his attention to the injured man.

Chapter XIV. Just A Matter of Jelly

Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to John Pendleton.

Nancy met her at the door.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home,” she sighed in obvious relief. “It’s half-past six!”

“I know it,” said Pollyanna; “but I’m not to blame. And I don’t think even Aunt Polly will say I am, either.”

“She won’t have the chance,” retorted Nancy. “She’s gone. She will be back in three days.”

And Pollyanna began to tell of the accident; and Nancy, open-mouthed, was listening.

At the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy. As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed disappointment about the Ladies’ Aid decision.

About a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that Pollyanna said to her aunt one morning:

“Aunt Polly, please would you mind very much if I took Mrs. Snow’s calf’s-foot jelly this week to someone else?”

“Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now?” sighed her aunt.

“Please let me take jelly to HIM. He has broken leg.”

“‘Him’? ‘Broken leg’? What are you talking about, Pollyanna?”

“Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn’t know. You see, it happened while you were gone. I found him in the woods, you know; and I had to unlock his house and telephone for the men and the doctor, and everything. Aunt Polly, may I take jelly to him?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Miss Polly. “Who was he?”

“The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.”

Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair.

“JOHN PENDLETON!”

“Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.”

Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked:

“Do YOU know him?”

Pollyanna nodded.

“Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles. He’s only cross OUTSIDE, you know. I’ll go and get the jelly.” finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room.

“Pollyanna, wait! I’ve changed my mind. Take the jelly to Mrs. Snow as usual. That is all. You may go now.”

“I know, he is cross – outside,” said Pollyanna, sadly, “so I suppose you don’t like him. But I like him. I’d be glad to send him jelly.”

Miss Polly began to shake her head. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and asked in a curiously quiet voice:

“Does he know who you are, Pollyanna?”

The little girl sighed.

“I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me it.”

“Does he know where you live?”

“Oh, no. I never told him that.”

“Then he doesn’t know you’re my niece?”

“I don’t think so.”

For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem to see her at all. Then Miss Polly roused herself with a start.

“Very well, Pollyanna,” she said at last, “you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your own gift. But understand: I do not send it. Be very sure that he does not think I do!”

“Thank you, Aunt Polly,” exulted Pollyanna.

Chapter XV. Dr. Chilton

When Pollyanna made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton windows were open. She rang the bell. Soon an elderly woman opened the door.

“If you please, I’ve brought some calf’s-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” smiled Pollyanna.

“Thank you,” said the woman. “Who shall I say sent it?”

Suddenly Doctor Chilton stepped quickly forward.

“Ah! Some calf’s-foot jelly?” he asked. “That will be fine! Maybe you want to see our patient?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna.

“But, Doctor, didn’t Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit – anyone?” the woman asked.

“Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor. “But now I give orders.” Then he added: “You don’t know, of course; but that little girl is better than a bottle of tonic any day.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. I don’t know the little lady well; but lots of my patients do!”

The nurse smiled.

“And what is special about her?”

“I don’t know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming gladness for everything that has happened or is going to happen.”

Pollyanna, meanwhile, entered John Pendleton’s room. The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking man lying on his back in bed.

“Oh, it’s you!” he exclaimed as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed.

“Yes, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “And I’ve brought you some calf’s-foot jelly,” resumed Pollyanna; “I hope you like it?”

“Never ate it.”

“Didn’t you? Well, if you didn’t, then you can’t know you DON’T like it, anyhow, can you?”

“Well, there’s one thing I know all right, and that is that I’m flat on my back right here this minute.”

“Yes, but broken legs don’t last long, you know – and you’re not a lifelong invalid as Mrs. Snow. I should think you could be glad of that.”

“Oh, of course,” interrupted the man, sharply; “I can be glad, too, for all the rest, I suppose – the nurse, and the doctor, and that woman in the kitchen!”

“Why, yes, sir, only think how bad it would be if you didn’t have them – and you lying here like this!”

“And you expect me to say I’m glad because I have to pay them, and pay them well, too!”

Pollyanna frowned sympathetically.

“Yes, I know. You’ve been saving money buying beans and fish balls, you know.

“Look here, child, what are you talking about?”

Pollyanna smiled.

“About your money, you know. Nancy told me.”

The man’s jaw dropped.

“Nancy told you I was saving money – Well, may I inquire who Nancy is?”

“Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.”

“Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?”

“She’s Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.”

The man made a sudden movement.

“Miss – Polly – Harrington!” he breathed. “You live with – HER!”

“Yes; I’m her niece. She’s taken me to bring up – on account of my mother, she was her sister. My mother died, and my father too.”

“And so you are – Miss Polly Harrington’s niece,” he said gently.

“Yes, sir. “I–I suppose you know – her.”

“Oh, yes; I know her. But you can’t mean that it was Miss Polly Harrington who sent that jelly – to me?” he said slowly.

Pollyanna looked distressed.

“No, sir: she didn’t. She said I must be very sure not to let you think she did send it. But I – ”

“I thought as much,” vouchsafed the man, shortly, turning away his head. And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room.

Then she saw Dr. Chilton.

“Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure of seeing you home?” asked the doctor smilingly.

“Thank you, sir. I love to ride,” beamed Pollyanna. “Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would be the very gladdest kind of a business there was.”

The doctor turned in surprise.

“‘Gladdest’! – when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go?” he cried.

She nodded.

“I know; but you’re HELPING it – don’t you see? – and of course you’re glad to help!”

The doctor’s eyes filled with sudden hot tears. The doctor’s life was lonely one. He had no wife and no home. His profession was very dear to him.

“God bless you, little girl,” he said unsteadily.

The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, then drove rapidly away.

“I’ve had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor,” announced Pollyanna, “He’s lovely, Nancy!”

Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room.

“Who was that man – the one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna?” questioned the lady a little sharply.

“Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton! Don’t you know him?”

“Dr. Chilton! What was he doing – here?”

“He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and – ”

Miss Polly lifted her head quickly.

“Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?”

“Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn’t.”

Miss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink.

“You TOLD him I didn’t!”

“Why, Aunt Polly, you SAID to!”

Aunt Polly sighed.

“I SAID, Pollyanna, that I did not send it, and for you to be very sure that he did not think I DID! – which is a very different matter from TELLING him outright that I did not send it.”

“Dear me! Well, I don’t see where the difference is,” sighed Pollyanna.

Chapter XVI. A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl

About a week after Pollyanna’s visit to Mr. John Pendleton Miss Polly attended the Ladies’ Aid meeting. When she returned at three o’clock, her cheeks were pink, and her hair was fluffed into curls.

“Oh – oh – oh! Aunt Polly, you’ve got them, too,” she cried rapturously, dancing round and round her aunt, as that lady entered the sitting room.

“Pollyanna, what does all this mean?” demanded Aunt Polly.

“Oh, Aunt Polly!” I’m talking about those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt Polly, they’re so pretty! May I do your hair?”

“Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies’ in that absurd fashion? When the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to them, I was so ashamed! I – ”

Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes.

“Wait just where you are. I’ll get a comb.”

“But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the little girl from the room and upstairs after her.

“Oh, did you come up here?” Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss Polly’s own room. “I’ve got the comb. Now sit down, please, right here. Oh, I’m so glad you let me do it!”

“But, Pollyanna, I–I – ”

“Oh, what pretty hair you’ve got,” prattled Pollyanna. Aunt Polly, I’ll make you so pretty everybody’ll just love to look at you!”

“Pollyanna! I–I’m sure I don’t know why I’m letting you do this silly thing.”

“Why, Aunt Polly, don’t you like to look at pretty things?”

“But – but – ”

“And I just love to do hair!” purred Pollyanna, contentedly. “Oh, Aunt Polly, now your hair is almost done, and I need to leave you for just a minute; and you must promise – promise – PROMISE not to stir nor peek till I come back. Now remember!” she finished, as she ran from the room.

Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. But at that moment – unaccountably – Miss Polly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dressing table. And she saw her face – not young, it is true, but the cheeks were a pretty pink, the eyes sparkled. The hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay in loose waves.

Miss Polly was amazed and absorbed with what she saw. Then Pollyanna entered the room again. She chuckled.

With trembling fingers she draped about her aunt’s shoulders a beautiful lace shawl.

Promptly, therefore, she pulled her aunt toward the sun parlor and thrusted a red rose into the soft hair above Miss Polly’s left ear.

For one moment Miss Polly stood still but then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna, following the direction of her aunt’s last gaze, saw, through the open windows of the sun parlor Dr. Chilton.

“Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me?”

“Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “Will you come down, please?”

In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed aunt Polly.

“Pollyanna, how could you?” moaned the woman. “To think of your rigging me up like this, and then letting me – BE SEEN!”

Pollyanna stopped in dismay.

“But you looked lovely – perfectly lovely, Aunt Polly; and – ”

Downstairs Pollyanna found the doctor.

He smiled.

“Mr. John Pendleton wants to see you today. It’s stopped raining, so I drove down after you. Will you come? I can bring you back before six o’clock.”

“I’ll be glad!” exclaimed Pollyanna. “Let me ask Aunt Polly.”

In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober face.

The doctor a little hesitatingly, asked:

“Wasn’t it your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago – in the window of the sun parlor?”

“Yes, I dressed her up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl and I fixed her hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. Didn’t YOU think she looked just lovely?”

“Yes, Pollyanna, I–I thought she did look – just lovely.”

“I’m so glad! I’ll tell her,” nodded the little girl.

“Never! Pollyanna, please don’t tell her – that.”

“Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you’d be glad – ”

The doctor said nothing. He did not speak again until they reached the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a broken leg.

Chapter XVII. “Just Like a Book”

John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna today with a smile.

“Well, Miss Pollyanna, I’m so glad you’re here. Well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I’m afraid, both the other day when you so kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when you found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that!”

“But I was glad to find you – that is, I don’t mean I was glad your leg was broken, of course,” she corrected hurriedly.

John Pendleton smiled.

“I understand. And I consider you a very brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for the jelly, too,” he added.

“Did you like it?” asked Pollyanna with interest.

“Very much. Well, well, listen! Out in the library – the big room where the telephone is, you know – you will find a carved box. Bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too heavy for you to carry, I think.”

“Oh, I’m very strong,” declared Pollyanna, cheerfully. In a minute she returned with the box.

It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was full of treasures that John Pendleton had picked up in years of travel – and concerning each there was some entertaining story.

The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was over, Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides the wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life. They were talking, too, even of the life and home long ago in the far Western town.

When it was time for her to go, John Pendleton said:

“Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you? I’m lonesome, and I need you. At first, after I found out who you were, I didn’t want you to come any more. You reminded me of – of something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said to myself that I never wanted to see you again. But now I understand that I need you. Will you come again?”

“Yes, Mr. Pendleton!” breathed Pollyanna.”

“Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently.

After supper that evening, Pollyanna told Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton’s wonderful carved box, and the wonderful things it contained and that strange thing he wanted to forget.

“What’s that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. “He said you reminded him of something he wanted to forget?”

“Yes. But afterwards – ”

“What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent.

“He didn’t tell me. He just said it was something.”

“THE MYSTERY!” breathed Nancy. “That’s why he took to you, Miss Pollyanna! Now tell me everything he said!”

“But he didn’t tell me anything,” cried Pollyanna. And he didn’t even know who I was till I took the calf’s-foot jelly, and had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn’t send it, and – ”

“Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know – I KNOW, I know!” Nancy cried rapturously. “It was after he found out you were Miss Polly’s niece that he said he didn’t ever want to see you again, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this today.”

“Then I’ve got it, sure! Now listen. MR. JOHN PENDLETON WAS MISS POLLY HARRINGTON’S LOVER!” she announced impressively.

“Why, Nancy, she doesn’t like him,” objected Pollyanna.

“Of course she doesn’t! THAT’S the quarrel!”

Pollyanna still looked incredulous.

“Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had had a lover once. I didn’t believe it. But Mr. Tom said she had, and that he was living now right in this town. And NOW I know, of course. It’s John Pendleton!”

“Oh-h!” breathed Pollyanna, in amazement. “But, Nancy, I should think if they loved each other they’d make up some time. Both of them all alone, so, all these years. I should think they’d be glad to make up!”

Nancy sniffed.

“I guess maybe you don’t know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You aren’t big enough yet.”

Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later, her face was very thoughtful.

Chapter XVIII. Prisms

As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the house of Mr. Pendleton. He talked to her and showed her many strange and beautiful things – books, pictures. He obviously liked her.

Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton some time ago was her Aunt Polly’s lover; and with all the strength of her loving heart she tried to bring happiness into their lonely lives.

She also talked to Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely, sometimes irritably. She talked to her aunt about Mr. Pendleton. Usually Miss Polly didn’t listen. She always found something else to talk about.

One day, making an early morning call on John Pendleton, found the flaming band of blue and gold and green and red and violet lying across his pillow.

“Mr. Pendleton, it’s a real rainbow!” she exclaimed. “How pretty it is! But how DID it get in?” she cried.

The man laughed a little grimly.

“Well, I suppose it ‘got in’ through the glass thermometer in the window. The sun shouldn’t strike it at all but it does in the morning.”

“Oh, it’s so pretty, Mr. Pendleton! And does just the sun do that?”

Suddenly a thought came to Mr. Pendleton. He touched the bell.

“Nora,” he said, when his maid appeared at the door, “bring me a big brass candlestick from the drawing-room.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured the woman. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants encircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand.

“Thank you. You may stand it here,” directed the man.

As the maid left the room he turned smiling eyes toward Pollyanna.

“Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.”

With both hands she brought it; and in a moment he was slipping off the pendants, until they lay, side by side, on the bed.

“Now, my dear, take the string from my table and hook the pendants to it across the window.”

When she finished, she stepped back with a cry of delight. Everywhere in the room were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, gold and blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed, were aflame with shimmering bits of color.

“Oh, how lovely!” breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly. “I reckon the sun himself is trying to play my game now!” she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talking about.

“Oh, I forgot. You don’t know about the game. I remember now.”

“Suppose you tell me, then.”

And this time Pollyanna told him everything about her “being glad” game.

For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said unsteadily:

“Perhaps; now I know the best prism of them is you, Pollyanna.”

“Oh, but I don’t show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. Pendleton!”

“Don’t you?” smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face, wondered why there were tears in his eyes.

“No,” she said. “I’m afraid, Mr. Pendleton, the sun make just freckles on my face!”

Pollyanna looked at him. His laugh had sounded almost like a sob.

Chapter XIX. Which Is Somewhat Surprising

Pollyanna entered school in September. School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna, certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna confessed that going to school WAS living.

In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old friends. She could not give them quite so much time now, of course; but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton, however, was the most dissatisfied.

One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it.

“See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me?” he asked, a little impatiently.

Pollyanna laughed – Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man!

“I thought you didn’t like to have any people around,” she said.

“Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of yours. Now I’m glad to be waited on!”

“Oh, but you aren’t really glad; you just SAY you are,” pouted Pollyanna. “You know you don’t play the game right, Mr. Pendleton – you know you don’t!”

The man’s face grew suddenly very grave.

“That’s why I want you, little girl – to help me play it. Will you come?”

“Mr. Pendleton, I can’t – you know I can’t. I’m – Aunt Polly’s! You know she has been so – good to me,” she began slowly; “and she took me when I didn’t have anybody left but the Ladies’ Aid, and – ”

A spasm of something crossed the man’s face.

“Pollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring her to this house. But I didn’t bring her here. Never mind why. And my house is not a home. It takes a woman’s hand and heart, or a child’s presence, to make a home, Pollyanna; and I have not had either. Now will you come, my dear?”

“Then it’s all right,” sighed the little girl. “Now you can take us both, and everything will be lovely.”

“Take – you – both?” repeated the man.

A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna’s countenance.

“Pollyanna, what ARE you talking about?” asked the man. He raised his hand and began to speak; but the next moment the maid appeared.

“The doctor, sir,” she said.

Pollyanna rose at once.

John Pendleton turned to her feverishly.

“Pollyanna, for Heaven’s sake, say nothing of what I asked you to your aunt,” he said in a low voice. Pollyanna smiled.

“Of course not! I know you must tell her everything yourself!” she called back.

John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair.

Chapter XX. Which Is More Surprising

One day on the way home from Sunday school Dr. Chilton met Pollyanna.

“Mr. Pendleton sent a special request for you to go to see him this afternoon. He says it’s very important.”

Pollyanna nodded happily.

“Yes, it is, I know. I’ll go.”

The doctor looked at her with some surprise.

“Yesterday you seemed more upsetting than soothing to him, young lady.”

Pollyanna laughed.

“Oh, it wasn’t me, it was Aunt Polly.”

The doctor turned with a quick start.

“Your – aunt!” he ejaculated.

“Yes,” nodded Pollyanna, happily. “That’s the story-part, you see. I didn’t know it till Nancy told me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years ago, and they quarrelled. She didn’t know who it was at first. But now we know, it’s Mr. Pendleton!”

“Oh! No; I – didn’t know it,” the doctor said quietly.

“Yes; and I’m so glad now. It’s come out lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked me to come and live with him, but of course I wouldn’t leave Aunt Polly like that – after she’d been so good to me. Then he told me all about the woman he loved and I understood he still needed her heart and hand; and I was so glad! For of course if he wants to make up the quarrel, everything will be all right now, and Aunt Polly and I will both go to live there, or he’ll come to live with us. Of course, Aunt Polly doesn’t know yet, and we haven’t got everything settled; so I suppose that is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure.”

The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips.

“Yes; now I understand why Mr. John Pendleton wants to see you today, Pollyanna,” he nodded.

When Pollyanna later saw Mr. Pendleton he was very nervous.

“Pollyanna,” he began at once. “I’ve been trying all night to puzzle out what you meant by all that, yesterday – about my wanting your Aunt Polly’s hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean?”

“Why, because you were lovers, you know once; and I was so glad you still felt that way now.”

“Lovers! – your Aunt Polly and I?”

At the obvious surprise in the man’s voice, Pollyanna opened wide her eyes.

“Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!”

The man gave a short little laugh.

“Well, I’m afraid I shall have to say that Nancy – didn’t know.”

“Then you – weren’t lovers?” Pollyanna’s voice was tragic with dismay.

“Never!”

“I’d have been so glad to come – with Aunt Polly,” almost sobbed Pollyanna.

“And you won’t – now?” The man asked the question without turning his head.

“Of course not! I’m Aunt Polly’s.”

The man turned now, almost fiercely.

“Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were – your mother’s. And – it was your mother’s hand and heart that I wanted long years ago.”

“My mother’s!”

“Yes. I loved your mother; but she – didn’t love me. And after a time she went away with – your father. The whole world suddenly turned black to me. For long years I have been a cross, unlovable, unloved old man – though I’m not nearly sixty, yet, Pollyanna. Then, one day, like one of the prisms that you love so well, little girl, you danced into my life, and changed the colours around me. I found out, after a time, who you were, and – and I thought then I never wanted to see you again. I didn’t want to be reminded of – your mother. But – you know how that came out. And now I want you always. Pollyanna, won’t you come NOW?”

“But, Mr. Pendleton, there’s Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna’s eyes were filled with tears.

The man made an impatient gesture.

“What about me? How do you suppose I’m going to be ‘glad’ about anything – without you? If I had you for my own little girl, I’d be glad for – anything; and I’d try to make you glad, too, my dear.

“But Aunt Polly, she’s glad, I know, to have – ”

“Glad!” interrupted the man. “I’m sure Miss Polly doesn’t know how to be glad – for anything! Oh, she only does her duty, I know. Everyone knows her – and she isn’t the ‘glad’ kind, Pollyanna. She doesn’t know how to be. As for your coming to me – you just ask her and see if she won’t let you come. And, oh, little girl, little girl, I want you so!” he finished brokenly.

Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh.

“All right. I’ll ask her,” she said wistfully. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t tell her anything yesterday.”

John Pendleton smiled grimly.

“Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn’t mention it – yesterday.”

“I told only to the doctor; and of course, he doesn’t count.”

“The doctor!” cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. “Dr. Chilton?”

“Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me today, you know.”

“And what did Dr. Chilton say?” he asked.

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully.

“I don’t remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well imagine you did want to see me.”

Chapter XXI. A Question Answered

The sky was darkening when Pollyanna hurried down the hill from John Pendleton’s house. Half-way home she met Nancy with an umbrella.

“Oh, Miss Pollyanna, Miss Polly wanted me to come with this. She was worried about you!”

“Was she?” murmured Pollyanna. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“Well, I’m glad,” retorted Nancy, unexpectedly.

“Why, Nancy,” demurred Pollyanna, “Aunt Polly always does her duty.” Unconsciously Pollyanna repeated John Pendleton’s words.

“You’re right she is – and she always was! But she’s something more, now, since you came.”

Pollyanna’s face changed.

“Do you think Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mind – if I wasn’t here any more?”

“Likes to have you here? I’m sure she needs you!

“Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad – glad – glad! You don’t know how glad I am that Aunt Polly – wants me!

The task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an easy one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very sorry for him.

In due time she found herself in the great dim library of John Pendleton’s house.

“Well, Pollyanna, will you play the ‘glad game’ with me, all the rest of my life?” asked the man, gently.

“Oh, yes,” cried Pollyanna. “I’ve thought of the very gladdest kind of a thing for you to do, and – ”

“With – YOU?” asked John Pendleton.

“N-no; but – ”

“Pollyanna, you aren’t going to say no!” he interrupted.

“I–I’ve got to, Mr. Pendleton; truly I have. Aunt Polly – ”

“Did she REFUSE to let you come?”

“I didn’t ask her,” stammered the little girl.

“Pollyanna! So you didn’t even ask her!”

“I couldn’t, sir – truly,” faltered Pollyanna. “You see, I found out – without asking. Aunt Polly WANTS me with her, and – and I want to stay, too,” she confessed. “Sometimes she’s beginning to be glad about things. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I can’t leave Aunt Polly – now!”

There was a long pause.

“Pollyanna; I see. You can’t leave her – now,” he said.

“Oh, but you don’t know about the rest of it,” she reminded him. “There’s the very gladdest thing you CAN do. You said only a – a woman’s hand and heart or a child’s presence could make a home. And I can get it for you – a child’s presence; – not me, you know, but another one.”

“As if I would have any but you!” resented an indignant voice.

“But you’re so kind and good! Please take Jimmy Bean!

“Take – WHO?”

“Jimmy Bean. He’s the ‘child’s presence,’ you know; and he’ll be so glad to be it.”

“Will he? Well, I won’t,” ejaculated the man. “Pollyanna, this is sheer nonsense!”

“You don’t mean – you won’t take him?”

“I certainly do mean just that.”

“Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn’t be better than that old dead skeleton you keep somewhere; but I think it would!”

“SKELETON?”

“Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet.”

Suddenly he laughed.

“Pollyanna, I suspect you are right. Please tell me a little more about this nice little boy.” And Pollyanna told him.

“I’m so glad, and I’m sure you’ll like him,” sighed Pollyanna. “I do so want Jimmy Bean to have a home – and folks that care, you know.”

Chapter XXII. An Accident

At Mrs. Snow’s request, Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton’s office to get some medicine.

“This IS your home, isn’t it?” she said, looking interestedly about her.

The doctor smiled a little sadly.

“Yes, it is,” he answered, “but it’s a pretty poor apology for a home, Pollyanna. They’re just rooms, that’s all – not a home.”

Pollyanna nodded her head. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic understanding.

“I know. It takes a woman’s hand and heart, or a child’s presence to make a home,” she said.

“Eh?”

“Mr. Pendleton told me,” nodded Pollyanna, again; “about the woman’s hand and heart, or the child’s presence, you know. Why don’t you get a woman’s hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe you’d take Jimmy Bean – if Mr. Pendleton doesn’t want him.”

Dr. Chilton laughed a little.

“So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman’s hand and heart to make a home, does he?” he asked evasively.

“Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don’t you, Dr. Chilton?”

“Why don’t I – what?”

“Get a woman’s hand and heart. Oh – and I forgot! I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn’t Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago; and so we – we aren’t going there to live. You see, I told you it was – but I made a mistake. I hope YOU didn’t tell anyone,” she finished anxiously.

“No – I didn’t tell anyone, Pollyanna,” replied the doctor.

“Oh, that’s all right, then,” sighed Pollyanna in relief. “But why don’t you get a woman’s hand and heart, Dr. Chilton?”

There was a moment’s silence; then very gravely the doctor said:

“It isn’t easy, little girl.”

Pollyanna frowned. Then her eyes widened in surprise.

“Dr. Chilton, you don’t mean – you didn’t try to get somebody’s hand and heart once, like Mr. Pendleton, and – and couldn’t, did you?”

“There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now. Don’t let other people’s troubles worry your little head. Run back now to Mrs. Snow. Here is the medicine. Was there anything else?”

Pollyanna shook her head.

“No, Sir; thank you, Sir,” she murmured, as she turned toward the door. “Anyhow, I’m glad it wasn’t my mother’s hand and heart that you wanted and couldn’t get, Dr. Chilton. Goodbye!”

It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car.

Just what happened, no one could tell afterward. Nobody could tell why it happened or who was to blame that it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o’clock, was borne, limp and unconscious, into the little room that was so dear to her. There, by a white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy she was undressed and put to bed, while from the village, Dr. Warren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could bring him.

“Just look at her aunt’s face,” Nancy was sobbing to Old Tom in the garden, after the doctor had arrived and was closeted in the room; “Her hands shake, and now she isn’t doing her DUTY, I’m sure of it!”

“Is she hurt – bad?” The old man’s voice shook.

“Nobody knows it,” sobbed Nancy.

“But where is she hurt?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” moaned Nancy. “There’s a little cut on her blessed head, but Miss Polly says she’s afraid she’s hurt internally.”

Even after the doctor was gone, however, there seemed to be little that Nancy could tell Mr. Tom. There appeared to be no bones broken, and the cut was of slight consequence; but the doctor looked very grave. Later they sent for a trained nurse.

It was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyanna opened conscious eyes and realized where she was.

“Why, Aunt Polly, what’s the matter? Isn’t it daytime? Why don’t I get up?” she cried. “Why, Aunt Polly, I can’t get up,” she moaned, falling back on the pillow, after an ineffectual attempt to lift herself.

“No, dear, I wouldn’t try – just yet,” soothed her aunt quickly, but very quietly.

“But what is the matter? Why can’t I get up?”

“You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last night. But never mind that now. Auntie wants you to rest and go to sleep again.”

“Hurt? Oh, yes; I–I ran.” Pollyanna’s eyes were dazed. She lifted her hand to her forehead. “Why, it’s – done up, and it – hurts!”

“Yes, dear; but never mind. Just – just rest.”

“But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad! My legs feel so – so queer – only they don’t FEEL – at all!”

Miss Polly turned away. The nurse came forward quickly.

“Suppose you let me talk to you now,” she began cheerily. “I am Miss Hunt, and I’m here to help your aunt take care of you. And the very first thing I’m going to do is to ask you to swallow these little white pills for me.”

“But I don’t want to be taken care of – that is, not for long! I want to get up. You know I go to school. Can’t I go to school tomorrow?”

From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a half-stifled cry.

“Tomorrow?” smiled the nurse.

“Well, I can’t let you go to school so soon as that, Miss Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills for me, please, and we’ll see what THEY’LL do.”

“All right,” agreed Pollyanna; “but I MUST go to school the day after tomorrow – there are examinations then, you know.”

Chapter XXIII. John Pendleton

“And so it’s hurt that I am, and not sick,” she sighed at last. “Well, I’m glad of that.”

“G-glad, Pollyanna?” asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed.

“Yes. I’d so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton’s than life-long-invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and life-long-invalids don’t.”

Miss Polly got suddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table. Her face was white and drawn.

On the bed Pollyanna lay looking at the dancing colors on the ceiling, which came from one of the prisms in the window.

“I’m glad it isn’t appendicitis nor measles, because they’re catching – measles are, I mean – and they wouldn’t let you stay here.”

“You seem to – to be glad for a good many things, my dear,” faltered Aunt Polly.

Pollyanna laughed softly.

“I am. I’m so glad Mr. Pendleton gave me those prisms! But I’m most glad I was hurt.”

“Pollyanna!”

Pollyanna laughed softly again. “Well, you see, since I have been hurt, you’ve called me ‘dear’ lots of times – and you didn’t before. I love to be called ‘dear’. Some of the Ladies’ Aiders called me that; and of course that was pretty nice. Oh, Aunt Polly, I’m so glad you belong to me!”

Aunt Polly did not answer. Her eyes were full of tears. She turned away and hurried from the room.

It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old Tom. Her eyes were wild.

“Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, guess what’s happened,” she panted. “You couldn’t guess in a thousand years – you couldn’t, you couldn’t! Who do you suppose is in the parlor now with the mistress?”

Old Tom shook his head.

“It’s – John Pendleton!”

“You’re joking, girl.”

“Not much I am! Just think, Mr. Tom – HE called on HER!”

“Well, why not?” demanded the old man, a little aggressively.

“Well, I’ve found out that Miss Polly still hates him owing to the silly gossip that coupled their names together when she was eighteen or twenty.”

“Yes, I remember,” nodded Old Tom. “It was three or four years after Miss Jennie gave him the mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss Polly knew about it, of course, and was sorry for him. So she tried to be nice to him. Somebody began to make trouble. They said she was running after him. Then about that time she had troubles with her own lover. After that she shut up like an oyster. Her heart just seemed to turn bitter at the core.”

“Yes, I know,” rejoined Nancy; “and that’s why I was so surprised when I saw HIM at the door! But I let him in and went and told her.”

“What did she say?”

“‘Tell Mr. Pendleton I will be down at once.’ And I told him. Then I came out here and told you,” finished Nancy.

“Humph!” grunted Old Tom.

Mr. John Pendleton did not have to wait long before a swift step warned him of Miss Polly’s coming. As he attempted to rise, she made a gesture of remonstrance. She did not offer her hand, however, and her face was coldly reserved.

“I called to ask for – Pollyanna,” he began at once.

“Thank you. She is about the same,” said Miss Polly.

“And that is – won’t you tell me HOW she is?” His voice was not quite steady.

A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman’s face.

“I can’t, I wish I could!”

“You mean – you don’t know?”

“Yes.”

“But – the doctor?”

“Dr. Warren is in correspondence now with a New York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once.”

“But – but what WERE her injuries that you know?”

“A slight cut on the head, one or two bruises, and – and an injury to the spine which has seemed to cause – paralysis from the hips down.”

A low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence; then he asked:

“And Pollyanna – how does she – take it?”

“She doesn’t understand – at all – how things really are. And I CAN’T tell her.”

“But she must know – something!”

“Oh, yes. She knows she can’t – move; but she thinks her legs are – broken. She says she’s glad it’s broken legs like yours rather than ‘lifelong-invalids’ like Mrs. Snow’s; because broken legs get well, and the other – doesn’t. She talks like that all the time, until it – it seems as if I should – die!”

Through the blur of tears in his own eyes, the man saw the drawn face opposite.

“Do you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get Pollyanna to come and live with me.”

“With YOU! – Pollyanna!”

“Yes. I wanted to adopt her – legally, you understand; making her my heir, of course.”

“I am very fond of Pollyanna,” the man was continuing. “I am fond of her both for her own sake, and for – her mother’s. I’m ready to give Pollyanna the love that had been twenty-five years in storage.”

“LOVE.” Miss Polly remembered suddenly why SHE had taken this child in the first place – and with the recollection came the remembrance of Pollyanna’s own words: “I love to be called ‘dear’!” With a sinking heart, too, she realized something else: the dreariness of her own future now without Pollyanna.

“Well?” she said. The man smiled sadly.

“She would not come,” he answered.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t want to leave you. She wanted to stay with you – and she said she THOUGHT you wanted her to stay,” he finished.

He did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned his face resolutely toward the door. But instantly he heard a swift step at his side, and found a shaking hand thrust toward him.

“When the specialist comes, and I know anything – definite about Pollyanna, I will let you hear from me,” said a trembling voice. “Goodbye – and thank you for coming. Pollyanna will be pleased.”

Chapter XXIV. A Waiting Game

On the day after John Pendleton’s call at the Harrington homestead, Miss Polly set herself to the task of preparing Pollyanna for the visit of the specialist.

“Pollyanna, my dear,” she began gently, “we want another doctor besides Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us something new to do – to help you get well faster, you know.”

A joyous light came to Pollyanna’s face.

“Dr. Chilton! Oh, Aunt Polly, I’m so glad! I’ve wanted him all the time, but I was afraid you didn’t.”

Aunt Polly’s face turned white, then red, then white again. But when she answered, she showed very plainly that she was trying to speak cheerfully.

“Oh, no, dear! It wasn’t Dr. Chilton at all that I meant. It is a new doctor – a very good doctor from New York.”

“But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pendleton’s broken leg, Aunt Polly. If – if you don’t mind VERY much, I WOULD LIKE to have Dr. Chilton – truly I would!”

For a moment Aunt Polly did not speak at all; then she said gently:

“But I mind very much. I can do anything – almost anything for you, my dear; but there is some reason why I don’t wish Dr. Chilton called in on this case. And believe me, he can NOT know so much about your trouble, as this great doctor, who will come from New York tomorrow.”

Pollyanna still looked unconvinced.

The nurse entered the room at that moment, and Aunt Polly rose to her feet abruptly.

“I am very sorry, Pollyanna,” she said, “but it’s already arranged. The New York doctor will come tomorrow.”

As it happened, however, the New York doctor did not come “tomorrow.” At the last moment a telegram told of an unavoidable delay owing to the sudden illness of the specialist himself.

As the days of waiting passed, one by one, it seemed that Aunt Polly was doing everything that she could do to please her niece.

“I still can’t believe it,” Nancy said to Old Tom one morning. “but Miss Polly does everything that pleases Miss Pollyanna! She’s sent Timothy three times for fresh flowers. She lets the nurse do her hair. And Miss Polly wears her hair like that every day now – just to please that blessed child!”

Old Tom chuckled.

“Well, I think Miss Polly herself looks better now wearing these curls round her forehead,” Old Tom observed.

“Yes, she looks like FOLKS, now. She actually looks better with the ribbons and lace Miss Pollyanna makes her wear around her neck.”

“I told you so,” nodded the man. “She was a beauty some time ago.”

Nancy laughed.

“Well, say, Mr. Tom, who WAS her lover?”

“Well, I guess you won’t know it from me,” grinned Old Tom. Then, abruptly, the light died from his eyes. “How is she, today – the little gal?”

Nancy shook her head.

“Just the same, Mr. Tom. There is no special difference, as I can see. She just lays there and sleeps and talks and tries to smile and be ‘glad’ because the sun sets or the moon rises, or some other such thing.”

“I know; it’s the ‘game’!” nodded Old Tom.

“She told YOU, too, about that game?”

“Oh, yes. She told me long ago.”

For no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look cheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was nervous and impatient. Miss Polly said little; but even the waves of hair about her face, and the becoming laces at her throat, could not hide the fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna – Pollyanna admired the flowers and ate the fruits and jellies that were sent in to her; and returned cheery answers to the many messages of love and. But she, too, grew pale and thin; and the nervous activity of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the pitiful motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs now lying so quiet under the blankets.

Chapter XXV. A Door Ajar

Just a week from the time Dr. Mead, the specialist, came. He was a tall man with kind gray eyes, and a cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once.

Everyone said afterward that it was the cat that noiselessly opened the door. And if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt’s words.

In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly stood talking. In Pollyanna’s room the cat was purring on the bed when through the open door sounded clearly Aunt Polly’s exclamation.

“Not that! Doctor, not that! You don’t mean – the child – will NEVER WALK again!”

It was all confusion then. First, from the bedroom came Pollyanna’s terrified “Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly!” Then Miss Polly, seeing the open door and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan and – for the first time in her life – fainted away.

The nurse, with a choking “She heard!” ran toward the open door.

“Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick, please!”

The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very pale.

“She – she can’t come just this minute, dear. She will – a little later. What is it? Can’t I – get it?”

Pollyanna shook her head.

“But I want to know what she said – just now. Did you hear her? I want Aunt Polly – she said something. I want her to tell me it isn’t true!”

The nurse tried to speak, but no words came.

“Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isn’t true! You don’t mean I can’t ever – walk again?”

“There, there, dear – don’t, don’t!” said the nurse. “Perhaps he didn’t know. Perhaps he was mistaken.”

“But Aunt Polly said he knew more than anybody else about broken legs like mine!”

“Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make mistakes sometimes. Just don’t think anymore about it now – please don’t, dear.”

“But I can’t help thinking about it,” she sobbed. “It’s all there is now to think about. Miss Hunt, how am I going to school, or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or – or anybody?” She sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly she stopped and looked up. “Miss Hunt, if I can’t walk, how am I ever going to be glad for – ANYTHING?”

Miss Hunt did not know “the game;” but she knew that her patient must be quieted. That is why she stood now at the bedside with the quieting powder ready.

“There, there, dear, just take this,” she soothed; “Things aren’t half as bad as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.”

Chapter XXVI. Two Visits

It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Mead’s verdict.

“I’m Nancy, sir,” she said respectfully to Mr. Pendleton, when he came into the room. “Miss Harrington sent me to tell you about – Miss Pollyanna.”

“Well?”

“It isn’t well, Mr. Pendleton,” she choked.

“You don’t mean – ” He paused.

“Yes, sir. He says – she can’t walk again – never.”

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with emotion.

“Poor – little – girl! Poor – little – girl!”

Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. In a moment he asked:

“She herself doesn’t know yet – of course – does she?”

“But she does, sir.” sobbed Nancy, “It’s only that the cat pushed open the door and Miss Pollyanna overheard them talking. She found out – that way.”

“Poor – little – girl!” sighed the man again.

“Yes, sir. You see it’s all so new to her, and she keeps thinking all the time of new things she can’t do – NOW. It worries her, too, because she can’t be glad – maybe you don’t know about her game, though,” said Nancy, apologetically.

“The ‘glad game’?” asked the man. “Oh, yes; she told me of that.”

“Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally to most folks. But you see, now she – she can’t play it herself, and it worries her.”

Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his eyes.

At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly:

“There is also one more thing she feels bad about. It’s Jimmy Bean. She said she’d taken him to you once, but she didn’t think he showed off very well that day, and that she was afraid you didn’t think he would make a very nice child’s presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; but I didn’t, sir.”

“Yes, I know – what she means.”

“All right, sir. She wanted to take him again to show you he really was a lovely child’s presence. And now she – can’t! I beg your pardon, sir. Goodbye!”

It did not take long for the entire town to learn that the great New York doctor had said Pollyanna would never walk again. Everybody knew her little freckled face and almost everybody knew of the “game” that Pollyanna was playing.

Soon Aunt Polly, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls: calls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men, women, and children. Some brought a book or a bunch of flowers. Some cried frankly. Everybody was anxious for the little injured girl.

First came Mr. John Pendleton.

“I don’t need to tell you how shocked I am,” he began almost harshly. “But can – nothing be done?”

Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair.

“Oh, we’re ‘doing,’ of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain treatments and medicines that might help. But – he held out almost no hope.”

John Pendleton rose abruptly. His face was white. Miss Polly, looking at him, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her presence. At the door he turned.

“I have a message for Pollyanna,” he said. “Will you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy Bean and – that he’s going to be my boy hereafter. Tell her I thought she would be – GLAD to know. I shall adopt him, probably.”

For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual self-control.

“You will adopt Jimmy Bean!” she gasped.

“Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. I hope she will be glad!”

“Thank you,” bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go.

With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went upstairs to Pollyanna’s room.

“Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. He said he thought you’d be glad to know it.”

Pollyanna’s little face flamed into sudden joy.

“Glad? GLAD? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, I’m so glad for Jimmy! Besides, I’m glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he’ll have the child’s presence.”

“The – what?”

“The child’s presence,” stammered Pollyanna, hastily. “Mr. Pendleton told me once, you see, that only a woman’s hand and heart or a child’s presence could make a – a home. And now he’s got it – the child’s presence.”

“Oh, I – see,” said Miss Polly very gently.

“Dr. Chilton says so, too – that it takes a woman’s hand and heart, or a child’s presence, to make a home, you know,” she remarked.

“DR. CHILTON! How do you know – that?”

“He told me so. It was when he said he lived in just rooms, you know – not a home.”

Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window.

“So I asked him why he didn’t get them – a woman’s hand and heart, and have a home.”

“Pollyanna!” Miss Polly turned sharply.

“Well, he looked so – so sorrowful.”

“What did he – say?” Miss Polly asked.

“He didn’t say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you couldn’t always get them for the asking.”

There was a brief silence. Miss Polly’s eyes turned again to the window. Her cheeks were unnaturally pink.

Pollyanna sighed.

“He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.”

“Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?”

“Because, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said that he’d give all the world if he did have one woman’s hand and heart.”

Chapter XXVII. The Game and Its Players

It was not long after John Pendleton’s visit that Milly Snow called one afternoon.

“I–I came to inquire for the little girl,” she stammered.

“You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?” rejoined Miss Polly.

“That is what I came to tell you. You know nothing was ever right before – for mother. She was always wanting something different. But now she takes interest in things – how she looks, and her nightdress, and all that. And she knits little baby blankets for fairs and hospitals. And she’s so interested, and so GLAD to think she can do it! – and that was all Miss Pollyanna’s doings, you know, because she told mother she could be glad she’d got her hands and arms, anyway; and that made mother wonder right away why she didn’t DO something with her hands and arms. And so she began to do something – to knit, you know.”

“And so we want you to please tell Miss Pollyanna that we understand it’s all because of her. And please say we’re so glad we know her. And – and that’s all,” sighed Milly, rising hurriedly to her feet. “You’ll tell her?”

“Why, of course,” murmured Miss Polly.

These visits of John Pendleton and Milly Snow were only the first of many.

One day there was the little Widow Benton. Miss Polly knew her well. By reputation she knew her as the saddest little woman in town – one who was always in black. Today, however, Mrs. Benton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat, though there were tears in her eyes. She asked if she might see Pollyanna.

Miss Polly shook her head.

“I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A little later – perhaps.”

Mrs. Benton rose, and turned to go. But after she came back hurriedly.

“Miss Harrington, please give her – a message,” she stammered.

“Certainly, Mrs. Benton.”

Still the little woman hesitated; then she spoke.

“Will you tell her, please, that now I wear THIS,” she said, just touching the blue bow at her throat. The little girl has been trying for so long to make me wear – some color, that I thought she’d be – glad to know I’d begun. If you’ll just tell Pollyanna – SHE’LL understand.” And the door closed after her.

A little later, that same day, there was the other widow. The lady gave her name as “Mrs. Tarbell.”

“I’m a stranger to you, of course,” she began at once. “But I’m not a stranger to your little niece, Pollyanna. She’s such a dear little girl! I was very sad when I came up here; and her bright face and cheery manners reminded me of – my own little girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear of the accident. I just had to come to you.”

“You are very kind,” murmured Miss Polly.

“I–I want you to give her a message from me. Will you?”

“Certainly.”

“Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now. Yes, I know it sounds odd, and you don’t understand. But your niece will know just what I mean; and I felt that I must tell – her.” she said.

Miss Polly hurried upstairs to Pollyanna’s room.

“Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?”

“Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She’s sick, and sad; and takes long walks.”

“We’ll, she’s just been here, dear. She left a message for you. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now.”

Pollyanna clapped her hands softly.

“Did she say that – really? Oh, I’m so glad!”

“But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?”

“Why, it’s the game, and – ” Pollyanna stopped short.

“What game?”

“N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is – I can’t tell it unless I tell other things that – that I’m not to speak of.”

It was on Miss Polly’s tongue to question her niece further; but the obvious distress on the little girl’s face stopped the words before they were uttered.

Miss Polly went to the kitchen to Nancy.

“Nancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd ‘game’ is that the whole town seems to be babbling about? And what, please, has my niece to do with it? WHY does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her that they’re ‘playing it’? As near as I can judge, half the town are putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, or learning to like something they never liked before, and all because of Pollyanna. I tried to ask the child herself about it, but I can’t seem to make much headway, and of course I don’t like to worry her – now. But from something I heard her say to you last night, I should judge you were one of them, too. Now WILL you tell me what it all means?”

To Miss Polly’s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears.

“It means that ever since last June Pollyanna has just been making the whole town glad, and now they’re turning around and trying to make her a little glad, too.”

“Glad of what?”

“Just glad! That’s the game.”

“What game?”

“I’ll tell you, ma’am. It’s a game Miss Pollyanna’s father taught her to play. The game is to find something in everything to be glad about. And they called it the ‘just being glad’ game. That’s the game, ma’am.”

“But why hasn’t – she told me – the game?” faltered Miss Polly.

Nancy hesitated.

“Ma’am, you told her not to speak of – her father; so she couldn’t tell you. It was her father’s game, you see.”

Miss Polly bit her lip.

“She wanted to tell you, first off,” continued Nancy, a little unsteadily. “She wanted somebody to play it with. That’s why I began it, so she could have someone.”

“And – and – these others?” Miss Polly’s voice shook now.

“Oh, of course she told a lot, and they told the rest. And she was always so smiling and pleasant to everyone. Now, since she’s hurt, everybody feels so bad – especially when they heard how bad SHE feels because she can’t find anything to be glad about. And so they come every day to tell her how glad she’s made THEM, hoping that’ll help some. You see, she’s always wanted everybody to play the game with her.”

“Well, I know somebody who’ll play it – now,” choked Miss Polly, as she turned and ran through the kitchen doorway.

Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly.

A little later, in Pollyanna’s room, the nurse left Miss Polly and Pollyanna alone together.

“Now I know everything about the game you’re playing. Nancy told me. I think it’s a beautiful game. I’m going to play it now – with you.”

“Oh, Aunt Polly – YOU? I’m so glad! You see, I’ve really wanted you most of anybody, all the time.”

“Yes, dear; and there are all those others, too. Why, Pollyanna, I think all the town is playing that game now with you – even to the minister! The whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happier – and all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game, and how to play it.”

Pollyanna clapped her hands.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she cried. Then, suddenly, a wonderful light illumined her face. “Aunt Polly, there IS something I can be glad about, after all. I can be glad I’ve HAD my legs, anyway – else I couldn’t have done – that!”

Chapter XXVIII. Through an Open Window

One by one the short winter days came and went – but they were not short to Pollyanna. They were long, and sometimes full of pain.

Pollyanna saw people now, occasionally, and always there were the loving messages from those she could not see; and always they brought her something new to think about – and Pollyanna needed new things to think about.

John Pendleton told her what a fine boy Jimmy was getting to be, and how well he was doing. Jimmy told her what a first-rate home he had; and both said that it was all owing to her.

The winter passed, and spring came. There seemed every reason to believe, indeed, that Dr. Mead’s worst fears would be realized – that Pollyanna would never walk again.

One day Mr. John Pendleton, somewhat to his surprise, received one Saturday morning a call from Dr. Thomas Chilton.

“Pendleton,” began the doctor, abruptly, “I’ve come to you because you, better than anyone else in town, know something of my relations with Miss Polly Harrington.”

“Yes,” he said, trying to make his voice sound concerned enough for sympathy, and not eager enough for curiosity.

“Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I MUST make an examination.”

“Well – can’t you?”

“CAN’T I! Pendleton, you know very well I haven’t been inside that door for more than fifteen years. The mistress of that house told me that the NEXT time she ASKED me to enter it, I might take it that she was begging my pardon, and that all would be as before – which meant that she’d marry me. Perhaps you see her summoning me now – but I don’t!”

“But couldn’t you go – without a summons?”

The doctor frowned.

“Well, hardly. I have some pride, you know.”

“But if you’re so anxious – couldn’t you swallow your pride and forget the quarrel – ”

“Forget the quarrel!” interrupted the doctor. “I’m not talking of that kind of pride. It’s PROFESSIONAL pride I’m talking about. It’s a case of sickness, and I’m a doctor.”

“Chilton, what was the quarrel?” demanded Pendleton.

“What was it? A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or the depth of a river! Never mind the quarrel! So far as I am concerned, I am willing to say there was no quarrel. Pendleton, I must see that child. It may mean life or death. It will mean – I honestly believe – nine chances out of ten that Pollyanna Whittier will walk again!”

The words were spoken clearly and impressively. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached the ears of Jimmy Bean who was pulling up the first little green weeds of the flowerbeds near the window.

“Walk! Pollyanna!” John Pendleton was saying. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that from what I can hear and learn – that her case is very much like one that a college friend of mine has just helped. But I want to SEE the girl!”

John Pendleton came erect in his chair.

“You must see her, man! Couldn’t you – say, through Dr. Warren?”

The other shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. He told me himself that he suggested consultation with me at the first, but – Miss Harrington said no. But, Pendleton, I must see that child! But how can I – without a direct request from her aunt? – which I’ll never get!”

“She must be made to ask you!”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, I guess you don’t – nor anybody else. She’s too proud and too angry to ask me”

“But if she could be made to see – to understand,” urged John Pendleton.

“Yes; and who’s going to do it?” demanded the doctor.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” groaned the other.

Outside the window Jimmy Bean whispered:

“Well, I know! I’m going to do it!” And he rose to his feet and ran with all his might down Pendleton Hill.

Chapter XXIX. Jimmy Takes the Helm

“It’s Jimmy Bean. He wants to see you, ma’am,” announced Nancy.

“Me?” rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. “Are you sure he did not mean Miss Pollyanna? He may see her a few minutes today, if he likes.”

“Yes, I told him. But he said it was you he wanted.”

“Very well, I’ll come down.”

In the sitting room she found waiting for her a flushed-faced boy, who began to speak at once.

“Ma’am, I supppose it’s dreadful – what I’m doing – but it’s all for Pollyanna.”

“Jimmy, what are you talking about?”

“Well, to begin with, Dr. Chilton came to see Mr. Pendleton, and they talked in the library. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Jimmy.”

“Well, the window was open, and I was weeding the flowerbed under it; and I heard their talk.”

“Oh, Jimmy! LISTENING?”

“‘Yes! And I’m glad I listened. You will be too when I tell you because it may make Pollyanna – walk!”

“Jimmy, what do you mean?”

“Well, Dr. Chilton knows some doctor somewhere that can cure Pollyanna, he thinks – make her walk; but he can’t tell sure till he SEES her. And he wants to see her. Please let him see her!”

Miss Polly’s face turned very red.

“But, Jimmy, I–I can’t – I couldn’t! That is, I didn’t know!”

“They said that for some reason you wouldn’t let Dr. Chilton come, and you told Dr. Warren so; and they wanted to find somebody who could make you understand; and I was outside the window and I said to myself right away, ‘I’ll do it!’ And that’s why I’m here.”

“But, Jimmy, about that doctor,” implored Miss Polly. “Who was he? What did he do? Are they SURE he could make Pollyanna walk?”

“I don’t know who he was. They didn’t say. Dr. Chilton knows him, and he’s just cured somebody just like her, Dr. Chilton thinks. And say – you will let him come, won’t you? – now you understand?”

Miss Polly turned her head from side to side. After a minute she said brokenly:

“Yes – I’ll let – Dr. Chilton – see her. Now run home, Jimmy – quick!”

A little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet a flushed-faced Miss Polly in the hall. He was still more surprised to hear the lady say, a little breathlessly:

“Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. Chilton to be called in consultation, and – I refused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very much desire that you SHOULD call in Dr. Chilton. Will you not ask him at once – please? Thank you.”

Chapter XXX. A New Uncle

“Dr. Chilton! – oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am to see YOU!” cried Pollyanna. “But, of course, if Aunt Polly doesn’t want – ”

“It is all right, my dear; don’t worry,” soothed Miss Polly, hurrying forward. “I have told Dr. Chilton that – that I want him to look you over – with Dr. Warren, this morning.”

“Oh, then you asked him to come,” murmured Pollyanna, contentedly.

“Yes, dear, I asked him. That is – ”

Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr. Chilton held out both his hands to Pollyanna.

“Little girl, I’m thinking that one of the very gladdest jobs you ever did has been done today,” he said.

At twilight a wonderfully different Aunt Polly crept to Pollyanna’s bedside. The nurse was at supper.

“Pollyanna, dear, I’m going to tell you – the very first one of all. Some day I’m going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your – uncle. And it’s you that have done it all. Oh, Pollyanna, I’m so – happy! And so – glad! – darling!”

“Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, WERE you the woman’s hand and heart he wanted so long ago? You were – I know you were! I’m so glad! Why, Aunt Polly, I don’t know but I’m so glad that I don’t mind – even my legs, now!”

“Pollyanna, next week you’re going to take a journey. On a nice comfortable little bed you’re going to be carried in cars and carriages to a great doctor who has a big house many miles from here made on purpose for just such people as you are. He’s a dear friend of Dr. Chilton’s, and we’re going to see what he can do for you!”

Chapter XXXI. Which Is a Letter from Pollyanna

“Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom: – Oh, I can – I can – I CAN walk! I did today all the way from my bed to the window! It was six steps. My, how good it was to be on legs again!

“All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all the nurses stood beside of them and cried. A lady in the next ward who walked last week first, peeked into the door and clapped her hands. Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked through the window and called me ‘Honey, child’ when she wasn’t crying too much to call me anything.

“I don’t see why they cried. I wanted to sing and shout and yell! Oh – oh – oh! Just think, I can walk – walk – WALK! Now I don’t mind being here almost ten months, and I didn’t miss the wedding, anyhow. Wasn’t that just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get married right beside my bed, so I could see you. You always think of the gladdest things!

“Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way there. I don’t think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It will be so good just to walk. Oh, I’m so glad! I’m glad for everything. I’m going to walk eight steps tomorrow!”

“With heaps of love to everybody,

“POLLYANNA.”

Exercises

Answer the questions.

1. Why did Miss Polly decide to take Pollyanna to her house?

2. How did Pollyanna look like when Nancy first saw her at the station?

3. Who taught Pollyanna ‘being glad’ game?

4. How did Pollyanna meet Jimmy Bean? What did she do to find him a home?

5. What happened to Mr. Pendleton in Pendleton Woods?

6. Who was Mr. Chilton?

7. Why did Pollyanna refuse to live in Mr. Pendleton’s house?

8. Who was Miss Polly’s lover many years ago?

9. What happened to Pollyanna on the last day of October?

10. How did Pollyanna learn the news about her health? What was her reaction?

11. Did Pollyanna have many visitors and loving messages? Why?

12. Why did Dr. Chilton want to see Pollyanna?

13. Why did Jimmy Bean come to Miss Polly? What did he tell her?

14. What did Miss Polly tell to Pollyanna about her and Dr. Chilton?

15. What did Pollyanna write in her letter in the end of the story?

True or false?

Choose the right variant.

Pollyanna’s mother married the young ___________ and went south with him.

doctor

minister

engineer

Mr. Pendleton broke his __________ in the Pendleton woods.

arm

leg

spine

Aunt Polly had _________ years ago.

a lover

a gardener

a music teacher

It was ____________ that opened the door to Pollyanna’s room.

a dog

a cat

a chicken

In the end of the story Pollyanna could do all the way from her bed to _____________!

the door

the dressing table

the window

Match the English words and their Russian equivalents.

Translate into English.

Соломенная шляпа, быть довольным, вид из окна, кудрявые волосы, тихий голос, резко прервать, идти на цыпочках, благословенное дитя, присутствовать на собрании, кружевная шаль, несчастный случай, пожениться, хлопать в ладоши.

Vocabulary (Словарь)