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
âYes, yes; well, never mind,â interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle impatiently. âYou do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter what weâre talking about you always bring up at those Ladiesâ Aiders!â
âYesâm,â smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, âI reckon I do, maybe. But you see they used to bring me up, andâ ââ
âThat will do, Pollyanna,â interrupted a cold voice. âNow what is it about this jelly?â
âNothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, Iâm sure. You let me take jelly to her, so I thought you would to himâ âthis once. You see, broken legs arenât likeâ âlike lifelong invalids, so his wonât last forever as Mrs. Snowâs does, and she can have all the rest of the things after just once or twice.â
âââHimâ? âHeâ? âBroken legâ? What are you talking about, Pollyanna?â
Pollyanna stared; then her face relaxed.
âOh, I forgot. I reckon you didnât know. You see, it happened while you were gone. It was the very day you went that I found him in the woods, you know; and I had to unlock his house and telephone for the men and the doctor, and hold his head, and everything. And of course then I came away and havenât seen him since. But when Nancy made the jelly for Mrs. Snow this week I thought how nice it would be if I could take it to him instead of her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I?â
âYes, yes, I suppose so,â acquiesced Miss Polly, a little wearily. âWho did you say he was?â
âThe Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.â
Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair.
âJohn Pendleton!â
âYes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.â
Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked:
âDo you know him?â
Pollyanna nodded.
âOh, yes. He always speaks and smilesâ ânow. Heâs only cross outside, you know. Iâll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it âmost fixed when I came in,â finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room.
âPollyanna, wait! Miss Pollyâs voice was suddenly very stern. Iâve changed my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly todayâ âas usual. That is all. You may go now.â
Pollyannaâs face fell.
âOh, but Aunt Polly, hers will last. She can always be sick and have things, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs donât lastâ âI mean, broken ones. Heâs had it a whole week now.â
âYes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident,â said Miss Polly, a little stiffly; âbutâ âI do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna.â
âI know, he is crossâ âoutside,â admitted Pollyanna, sadly, âso I suppose you donât like him. But I wouldnât say âtwas you sent it. Iâd say âtwas me. I like him. Iâd be glad to send him jelly.â
Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and asked in a curiously quiet voice:
âDoes he know who youâ âare, Pollyanna?â
The little girl sighed.
âI reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me itâ ânever.â
âDoes he know where youâ âlive?â
âOh, no. I never told him that.â
âThen he doesnât know youâre myâ âniece?â
âI donât think so.â
For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem to see her at all. The little girl, shifting impatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly. Then Miss Polly roused herself with a start.
âVery well, Pollyanna,â she said at last, still in that queer voice, so unlike her own; âyou may 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!â
âYesâmâ ânoâmâ âthank you, Aunt Polly,â exulted Pollyanna, as she flew through the door.
XV Dr. ChiltonThe great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when she made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows were open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the back yard, and the doctorâs gig stood under the porte-cochĂšre.
As before Pollyanna went to the side door. This time she rang the bellâ âher fingers were not stiff today from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys.
A familiar-looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her, but there was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the clothes opened the door.
âIf you please, Iâve brought some calfâs-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,â smiled Pollyanna.
âThank you,â said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girlâs hand. âWho shall I say sent it? And itâs calfâs-foot jelly?â
The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the womanâs words and saw the disappointed look on Pollyannaâs face. He stepped quickly forward.
âAh! Some calfâs-foot jelly?â he asked genially. âThat will be fine! Maybe youâd like to see our patient, eh?â
âOh, yes, sir,â beamed Pollyanna; and the woman, in obedience to a nod from the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with vast surprise on her face.
Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city) gave a disturbed exclamation.
âBut, Doctor, didnât Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admitâ âany one?â
âOh, yes,â nodded the doctor, imperturbably. âBut Iâm giving orders now. Iâll take the risk.â Then he added whimsically: âYou donât know, of course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic any day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, she can. Thatâs why I sent her in.â
âWho is she?â
For one brief moment the doctor hesitated.
âSheâs the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. Iâ âI donât happen to enjoy a very extensive personal acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients doâ âIâm thankful to say!â
The nurse smiled.
âIndeed! And what are the special ingredients of this
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