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 had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window before she saw a little of what was going to happen. She was so excited then she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up the rest. But at last her task was finished, and she stepped back with a low cry of delight.
It had become a fairylandâ âthat sumptuous, but dreary bedroom. Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, gold and blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed itself, were aflame with shimmering bits of color.
âOh, oh, oh, how lovely!â breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly. âI just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, donât you?â she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talking about. âOh, how I wish I had a lot of those things! How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow andâ âlots of folks. I reckon then theyâd be glad all right! Why, I think even Aunt Pollyâd get so glad she couldnât help banging doors if she lived in a rainbow like that. Donât you?â
Mr. Pendleton laughed.
âWell, from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I think it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight toâ âto make her bang many doorsâ âfor gladness. But come, now, really, what do you mean?â
Pollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long breath.
âOh, I forgot. You donât know about the game. I remember now.â
âSuppose you tell me, then.â
And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from the very firstâ âfrom the crutches that should have been a doll. As she talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the dancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlit window.
âAnd thatâs all,â she sighed, when she had finished. âAnd now you know why I said the sun was trying to play itâ âthat game.â
For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said unsteadily:
âPerhaps; but Iâm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is yourself, Pollyanna.â
âOh, but I donât show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. Pendleton!â
âDonât you?â smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face, wondered why there were tears in his eyes.
âNo,â she said. Then, after a minute she added mournfully: âIâm afraid, Mr. Pendleton, the sun doesnât make anything but freckles out of me. Aunt Polly says it does make them!â
The man laughed a little; and again Pollyanna looked at him: the laugh had sounded almost like a sob.
XIX Which Is Somewhat SurprisingPollyanna entered school in September. Preliminary examinations showed that she was well advanced for a girl of her years, and she was soon a happy member of a class of girls and boys her own age.
School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna, certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna confessed that going to school was living, after allâ âthough she had had her doubts before.
In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of course; but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton, of them all, however, was the most dissatisfied.
One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it.
âSee here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me?â he asked, a little impatiently. âI donât see anything of you, nowadays.â
Pollyanna laughedâ âMr. Pendleton was such a funny man!
âI thought you didnât like to have folks âround,â she said.
He made a wry face.
âOh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of yours. Now Iâm glad to be waited on, hand and foot! Never mind, Iâll be on my own two feet yet, one of these days; then Iâll see who steps around,â he finished, picking up one of the crutches at his side and shaking it playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great library today.
âOh, but you arenât really glad at all for things; you just say you are,â pouted Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog, dozing before the fire. âYou know you donât play the game right ever, Mr. Pendletonâ âyou know you donât!â
The manâs face grew suddenly very grave.
âThatâs why I want you, little girlâ âto help me play it. Will you come?â
Pollyanna turned in surprise.
âMr. Pendleton, you donât really meanâ âthat?â
âBut I do. I want you. Will you come?â
Pollyanna looked distressed.
âWhy, Mr. Pendleton, I canâtâ âyou know I canât. Why, Iâmâ âAunt Pollyâs!â
A quick something crossed the manâs face that Pollyanna could not quite understand. His head came up almost fiercely.
âYouâre no more hers thanâ âPerhaps she would let you come to me,â he finished more gently. âWould you comeâ âif she did?â
Pollyanna frowned in deep thought.
âBut Aunt Polly has been soâ âgood to me,â she began slowly; âand she took me when I didnât have anybody left but the Ladiesâ Aid, andâ ââ
Again that spasm of something crossed the manâs face; but this time, when he spoke, his voice was low and very sad.
âPollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring her, some day, to this house. I pictured how happy weâd be together in our home all the long years to come.â
âYes,â pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy.
âButâ âwell, I didnât bring her here. Never mind why. I just didnât thatâs all. And ever since then this great gray pile of stone has been a houseâ ânever a home. It takes a womanâs hand and heart, or a childâs presence, to make a home, Pollyanna; and I have not had either. Now will you come, my dear?â
Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined.
âMr. Pendleton, youâ âyou mean
Comments (0)