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
Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Pollyâs onetime lover; and with all the strength of her loving, loyal heart, she wished she could in some way bring happiness into their to her mindâ âmiserably lonely lives.
Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely, sometimes irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her aunt about Mr. Pendletonâ âor rather, she tried to talk to her about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would not listenâ âlong. She always found something else to talk about. She frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of othersâ âof Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this, though, to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun parlor with the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly, indeed, seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house.
âIf you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,â Aunt Polly said.
âShall you? Then Iâm going to be worse,â gurgled Pollyanna. âIâd love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me!â
She wondered, then, at the look that came to her auntâs face.
âIt will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna,â Miss Polly said sternly. âDr. Chilton is not our family physician. I shall send for Dr. Warrenâ âif you are worse.â
Pollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. Warren was not summoned.
âAnd Iâm so glad, too,â Pollyanna said to her aunt that evening. âOf course I like Dr. Warren, and all that; but I like Dr. Chilton better, and Iâm afraid heâd feel hurt if I didnât have him. You see, he wasnât really to blame, after all, that he happened to see you when Iâd dressed you up so pretty that day, Aunt Polly,â she finished wistfully.
âThat will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr. Chiltonâ âor his feelings,â reproved Miss Polly, decisively.
Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes; then she sighed:
âI just love to see you when your cheeks are pink like that, Aunt Polly; but I would so like to fix your hair. Ifâ âWhy, Aunt Polly!â But her aunt was already out of sight down the hall.
It was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, making an early morning call on John Pendleton, found the flaming band of blue and gold and green edged with red and violet lying across his pillow. She stopped short in awed delight.
âWhy, Mr. Pendleton, itâs a baby rainbowâ âa real rainbow come in to pay you a visit!â she exclaimed, clapping her hands together softly. âOhâ âohâ âoh, how pretty it is! But how did it get in?â she cried.
The man laughed a little grimly: John Pendleton was particularly out of sorts with the world this morning.
âWell, I suppose it âgot inâ through the bevelled edge of that glass thermometer in the window,â he said wearily. âThe sun shouldnât strike it at all but it does in the morning.â
âOh, but itâs so pretty, Mr. Pendleton! And does just the sun do that? My! if it was mine Iâd have it hang in the sun all day long!â
âLots of good youâd get out of the thermometer, then,â laughed the man. âHow do you suppose you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was, if the thermometer hung in the sun all day?â
âI shouldnât care,â breathed Pollyanna, her fascinated eyes on the brilliant band of colors across the pillow. âJust as if anybodyâd care when they were living all the time in a rainbow!â
The man laughed. He was watching Pollyannaâs rapt face a little curiously. Suddenly a new thought came to him. He touched the bell at his side.
âNora,â he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door, âbring me one of the big brass candlesticks from the mantel in the front drawing-room.â
âYes, sir,â murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed. In a minute she had returned. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced wonderingly toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants encircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand.
âThank you. You may set it here on the stand,â directed the man. âNow get a string and fasten it to the sash-curtain fixtures of that window there. Take down the sash-curtain, and let the string reach straight across the window from side to side. That will be all. Thank you,â he said, when she had carried out his directions.
As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering Pollyanna.
âBring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.â
With both hands she brought it; and in a moment he was slipping off the pendants, one by one, until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by side, on the bed.
âNow, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string Nora fixed across the window. If you really want to live in a rainbowâ âI donât see but weâll have to have a
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