Pollyanna Eleanor H. Porter (classic english novels txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
Book online «Pollyanna Eleanor H. Porter (classic english novels txt) đ». Author Eleanor H. Porter
âHow do you do, sir? Isnât this a nice day?â she called cheerily, as she approached him.
The man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly.
âDid you speakâ âto me?â he asked in a sharp voice.
âYes, sir,â beamed Pollyanna. âI say, itâs a nice day, isnât it?â
âEh? Oh! Humph!â he grunted; and strode on again.
Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought.
The next day she saw him again.
âââTisnât quite so nice as yesterday, but itâs pretty nice,â she called out cheerfully.
âEh? Oh! Humph!â grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna laughed happily.
When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner, the man stopped abruptly.
âSee here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every day?â
âIâm Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. Iâm so glad you stopped. Now weâre introducedâ âonly I donât know your name yet.â
âWell, of all theâ ââ The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on faster than ever.
Pollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually smiling lips.
âMaybe he didnât understandâ âbut that was only half an introduction. I donât know his name, yet,â she murmured, as she proceeded on her way.
Pollyanna was carrying calfâs-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow today. Miss Polly Harrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said she thought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and a member of her churchâ âit 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 afternoonsâ ânot personally, but through Nancy. Today Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given it to her in accordance with Miss Pollyâs orders.
âAnd itâs glad that I am ter get rid of it,â Nancy had declared in private afterwards to Pollyanna; âthough itâs a shame ter be tuckinâ the job off on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!â
âBut Iâd love to do it, Nancy.â
âWell, you wonâtâ âafter youâve done it once,â predicted Nancy, sourly.
âWhy not?â
âBecause nobody does. If folks waânât sorry for her there wouldnât a soul go near her from morninâ till night, sheâs that cantankerous. All is, I pity her daughter what has ter take care of her.â
âBut, why, Nancy?â
Nancy shrugged her shoulders.
âWell, in plain words, itâs just that nothinâ what ever has happened, has happened right in Misâ Snowâs eyes. Even the days of the week ainât run ter her mind. If itâs Monday sheâs bound ter say she wished âtwas Sunday; and if you take her jelly youâre pretty sure ter hear she wanted chickenâ âbut if you did bring her chicken, sheâd be jest hankerinâ for lamb broth!â
âWhy, what a funny woman,â laughed Pollyanna. âI think I shall like to go to see her. She must be so surprising andâ âand different. I love different folks.â
âHumph! Well, Misâ Snowâs âdifferent,â all rightâ âI hope, for the sake of the rest of us!â Nancy had finished grimly.
Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks today as she turned in at the gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling, indeed, at the prospect of meeting this âdifferentâ Mrs. Snow.
A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door.
âHow do you do?â began Pollyanna politely. âIâm from Miss Polly Harrington, and Iâd like to see Mrs. Snow, please.â
âWell, if you would, youâre the first one that ever âlikedâ to see her,â muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. The girl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door at the end of it.
In the sickroom, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door, Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to the gloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half-sitting up in the bed across the room. Pollyanna advanced at once.
âHow do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are comfortable today, and sheâs sent you some calfâs-foot jelly.â
âDear me! Jelly?â murmured a fretful voice. âOf course Iâm very much obliged, but I was hoping âtwould be lamb broth today.â
Pollyanna frowned a little.
âWhy, I thought it was chicken you wanted when folks brought you jelly,â she said.
âWhat?â The sick woman turned sharply.
âWhy, nothing, much,â apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly; âand of course it doesnât really make any difference. Itâs only that Nancy said it was chicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and lamb broth when we brought chickenâ âbut maybe âtwas the other way, and Nancy forgot.â
The sick woman pulled herself up till she sat erect in the bedâ âa most unusual thing for her to do, though Pollyanna did not know this.
âWell, Miss Impertinence, who are you?â she demanded.
Pollyanna laughed gleefully.
âOh, that isnât my name, Mrs. Snowâ âand Iâm so glad âtisnât, too! That would be worse than âHephzibah,â wouldnât it? Iâm Pollyanna Whittier, Miss Polly Harringtonâs niece, and Iâve come to live with her. Thatâs why Iâm here with the jelly this morning.â
All through the first part of this sentence, the sick woman had sat interestedly erect; but at the reference to the jelly she fell back on her pillow listlessly.
âVery well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but my appetite isnât very good this morning, and I was wanting lambâ ââ She stopped suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of subject. âI never slept a wink last nightâ ânot a wink!â
âO dear, I wish I didnât,â sighed Pollyanna, placing the jelly on the little stand and seating herself comfortably in the nearest chair. âYou lose such a lot of time just sleeping! Donât you think so?â
âLose timeâ âsleeping!â exclaimed the sick woman.
âYes, when you might be just living, you know.
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