Pollyanna Grows Up Eleanor H. Porter (booksvooks .TXT) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
Book online «Pollyanna Grows Up Eleanor H. Porter (booksvooks .TXT) đ». Author Eleanor H. Porter
Pollyanna went often to the Garden after this. Occasionally she went with some of the girls from school. More often she went alone. In spite of the somewhat irksome restrictions she enjoyed herself very much. She could watch the people even if she could not talk to them; and she could talk to the squirrels and pigeons and sparrows that so eagerly came for the nuts and grain which she soon learned to carry to them every time she went.
Pollyanna often looked for her old friends of that first dayâ âthe man who was so glad he had his eyes and legs and arms, and the pretty young lady who would not go with the handsome man; but she never saw them. She did frequently see the boy in the wheel chair, and she wished she could talk to him. The boy fed the birds and squirrels, too, and they were so tame that the doves would perch on his head and shoulders, and the squirrels would burrow in his pockets for nuts. But Pollyanna, watching from a distance, always noticed one strange circumstance: in spite of the boyâs very evident delight in serving his banquet, his supply of food always ran short almost at once; and though he invariably looked fully as disappointed as did the squirrel after a nutless burrowing, yet he never remedied the matter by bringing more food the next dayâ âwhich seemed most shortsighted to Pollyanna.
When the boy was not playing with the birds and squirrels he was readingâ âalways reading. In his chair were usually two or three worn books, and sometimes a magazine or two. He was nearly always to be found in one especial place, and Pollyanna used to wonder how he got there. Then, one unforgettable day, she found out. It was a school holiday, and she had come to the Garden in the forenoon; and it was soon after she reached the place that she saw him being wheeled along one of the paths by a snub-nosed, sandy-haired boy. She gave a keen glance into the sandy-haired boyâs face, then ran toward him with a glad little cry.
âOh, youâ âyou! I know youâ âeven if I donât know your name. You found me! Donât you remember? Oh, Iâm so glad to see you! Iâve so wanted to say thank you!â
âGee, if it ainât the swell little lost kid of the Avenoo!â grinned the boy. âWell, what do you know about that! Lost again?â
âOh, no!â exclaimed Pollyanna, dancing up and down on her toes in irrepressible joy. âI canât get lost any moreâ âI have to stay right here. And I mustnât talk, you know. But I can to you, for I know you; and I can to himâ âafter you introduce me,â she finished, with a beaming glance at the lame boy, and a hopeful pause.
The sandy-haired youth chuckled softly, and tapped the shoulder of the boy in the chair.
âListen ter that, will ye? Ainât that the real thing, now? Just you wait while I introdooce ye!â And he struck a pompous attitude. âMadam, this is me friend, Sir James, Lord of Murphyâs Alley, andâ ââ But the boy in the chair interrupted him.
âJerry, quit your nonsense!â he cried vexedly. Then to Pollyanna he turned a glowing face. âIâve seen you here lots of times before. Iâve watched you feed the birds and squirrelsâ âyou always have such a lot for them! And I think you like Sir Lancelot the best, too. Of course, thereâs the Lady Rowenaâ âbut wasnât she rude to Guinevere yesterdayâ âsnatching her dinner right away from her like that?â
Pollyanna blinked and frowned, looking from one to the other of the boys in plain doubt. Jerry chuckled again. Then, with a final push he wheeled the chair into its usual position, and turned to go. Over his shoulder he called to Pollyanna:
âSay, kid, jest let me put ye wise ter somethinâ. This chap ainât drunk nor crazy. See? Themâs jest names heâs give his young friends here,ââ âwith a flourish of his arms toward the furred and feathered creatures that were gathering from all directions. âAnâ they ainât even names of folks. Theyâre just guys out of books. Are ye on? Yet heâd ruther feed them than feed hisself. Ainât he the limit? Ta-ta, Sir James,â he added, with a grimace, to the boy in the chair. âBuck up, nowâ ânix on the no grub racket for you! See you later.â And he was gone.
Pollyanna was still blinking and frowning when the lame boy turned with a smile.
âYou mustnât mind Jerry. Thatâs just his way. Heâd cut off his right hand for meâ âJerry would; but he loves to tease. Whereâd you see him? Does he know you? He didnât tell me your name.â
âIâm Pollyanna Whittier. I was lost and he found me and took me home,â answered Pollyanna, still a little dazedly.
âI see. Just like him,â nodded the boy. âDonât he tote me up here every day?â
A quick sympathy came to Pollyannaâs eyes.
âCanât you walkâ âat allâ âerâ âSir J-James?â
The boy laughed gleefully.
âââSir James,â indeed! Thatâs only more of Jerryâs nonsense. I ainât a âSir.âââ
Pollyanna looked clearly disappointed.
âYou arenât? Nor aâ âa lord, like he said?â
âI sure ainât.â
âOh, I hoped you wereâ âlike Little Lord Fauntleroy, you know,â rejoined Pollyanna. âAndâ ââ
But the boy interrupted her with an eager:
âDo you know Little Lord Fauntleroy? And do you know about Sir Lancelot, and the Holy Grail, and King Arthur and his Round Table, and the Lady Rowena, and Ivanhoe, and all those? Do you?â
Pollyanna gave her head a dubious shake.
âWell, Iâm afraid maybe I donât know all of âem,â she admitted. âAre they allâ âin books?â
The boy nodded.
âIâve got âem hereâ âsome of âem,â he said. âI like to read âem over and over. Thereâs always something new in âem. Besides, I hainât got no others, anyway.
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