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
âTheâ âgame?â
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
âThere! I âmost forgot; but Iâve thought it up, Mrs. Snowâ âwhat you can be glad about.â
âGlad about! What do you mean?â
âWhy, I told you I would. Donât you remember? You asked me to tell you something to be glad aboutâ âglad, you know, even though you did have to lie here abed all day.â
âOh!â scoffed the woman. âThat? Yes, I remember that; but I didnât suppose you were in earnest any more than I was.â
âOh, yes, I was,â nodded Pollyanna, triumphantly; âand I found it, too. But âtwas hard. Itâs all the more fun, though, always, when âtis hard. And I will own up, honest to true, that I couldnât think of anything for a while. Then I got it.â
âDid you, really? Well, what is it?â Mrs. Snowâs voice was sarcastically polite.
Pollyanna drew a long breath.
âI thoughtâ âhow glad you could beâ âthat other folks werenât like youâ âall sick in bed like this, you know,â she announced impressively. Mrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry.
âWell, really!â she ejaculated then, in not quite an agreeable tone of voice.
âAnd now Iâll tell you the game,â proposed Pollyanna, blithely confident. âItâll be just lovely for you to playâ âitâll be so hard. And thereâs so much more fun when it is hard! You see, itâs like this.â And she began to tell of the missionary barrel, the crutches, and the doll that did not come.
The story was just finished when Milly appeared at the door.
âYour aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna,â she said with dreary listlessness. âShe telephoned down to the Harlowsâ across the way. She says youâre to hurryâ âthat youâve got some practicing to make up before dark.â
Pollyanna rose reluctantly.
âAll right,â she sighed. âIâll hurry.â Suddenly she laughed. âI suppose I ought to be glad Iâve got legs to hurry with, hadnât I, Mrs. Snow?â
There was no answer. Mrs. Snowâs eyes were closed. But Milly, whose eyes were wide open with surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted cheeks.
âGoodbye,â flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, as she reached the door. âIâm awfully sorry about the hairâ âI wanted to do it. But maybe I can next time!â
One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days, indeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy they were. Whereupon her aunt would usually reply, wearily:
âVery well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are happy; but I trust that they are profitable, as wellâ âotherwise I should have failed signally in my duty.â
Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kissâ âa proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly; but one day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour.
âDo you mean that it wouldnât be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they should be just happy days?â she asked wistfully.
âThat is what I mean, Pollyanna.â
âThey must be pro-fi-table as well?â
âCertainly.â
âWhat is being pro-fi-table?â
âWhy, itâ âitâs just being profitableâ âhaving profit, something to show for it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are!â
âThen just being glad isnât pro-fi-table?â questioned Pollyanna, a little anxiously.
âCertainly not.â
âO dear! Then you wouldnât like it, of course. Iâm afraid, now, you wonât ever play the game, Aunt Polly.â
âGame? What game?â
âWhy, that fatherâ ââ Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. âN-nothing,â she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.
âThat will do for this morning, Pollyanna,â she said tersely. And the sewing lesson was over.
It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway.
âWhy, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely!â she cried. âYou were coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company,â she finished, scampering up the stairs and throwing her door wide open.
Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She had been planning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window. But to her unbounded surprise now, she found herself, not in the main attic before the cedar chest, but in Pollyannaâs little room sitting in one of the straight-backed chairsâ âso many, many times since Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some utterly unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set out to do!
âI love company,â said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she were dispensing the hospitality of a palace; âspecially since Iâve had this room, all mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a room, always, but âtwas a hired room, and hired rooms arenât half as nice as owned ones, are they? And of course I do own this one, donât I?â
âWhy, y-yes, Pollyanna,â murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she did not get up at once and go to look for that shawl.
âAnd of course now I just love this room, even if it hasnât got the carpets and curtains and pictures that Iâd been wantâ ââ With a painful blush Pollyanna stopped short. She was plunging into an entirely different sentence when her aunt interrupted her sharply.
âWhatâs that, Pollyanna?â
âN-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didnât mean to say it.â
âProbably not,â returned Miss Polly, coldly; âbut you did say it, so suppose we have the rest of it.â
âBut it wasnât anything only that Iâd been kind of planning on pretty carpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But, of courseâ ââ
âPlanning on them!â interrupted Miss Polly, sharply.
Pollyanna blushed still more painfully.
âI ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,â she apologized. âIt was only because Iâd always wanted them and hadnât had them, I suppose. Oh, weâd had two rugs in the barrels, but they were little, you know, and one had ink spots, and the other holes; and there never were only those two pictures; the one fathâ âI mean the good one we sold, and the bad one that broke. Of course if it hadnât been for all that I shouldnât have wanted them, soâ âpretty things, I mean; and
Comments (0)