Pollyanna Eleanor H. Porter (classic english novels txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
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âOh,â sighed Pollyanna, remembering suddenly the question she was so soon to ask her aunt. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to scare her.â
âWell, Iâm glad,â retorted Nancy, unexpectedly. âI am, I am.â
Pollyanna stared.
âGlad that Aunt Polly was scared about me! Why, Nancy, that isnât the way to play the gameâ âto be glad for things like that!â she objected.
âThere waânât no game in it,â retorted Nancy. âNever thought of it. You donât seem ter sense what it means ter have Miss Polly worried about ye, child!â
âWhy, it means worriedâ âand worried is horridâ âto feel,â maintained Pollyanna. âWhat else can it mean?â
Nancy tossed her head.
âWell, Iâll tell ye what it means. It means sheâs at last gettinâ down somewheres near humanâ âlike folks; anâ that she ainât jest doinâ her duty by ye all the time.â
âWhy, Nancy,â demurred the scandalized Pollyanna, âAunt Polly always does her duty. Sheâ âsheâs a very dutiful woman!â Unconsciously Pollyanna repeated John Pendletonâs words of half an hour before.
Nancy chuckled.
âYouâre right she isâ âand she always was, I guess! But sheâs somethinâ more, now, since you came.â
Pollyannaâs face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown.
âThere, thatâs what I was going to ask you, Nancy,â she sighed. âDo you think Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mindâ âif if I wasnât here any more?â
Nancy threw a quick look into the little girlâs absorbed face. She had expected to be asked this question long before, and she had dreaded it. She had wondered how she should answer itâ âhow she could answer it honestly without cruelly hurting the questioner. But now, now, in the face of the new suspicions that had become convictions by the afternoonâs umbrella-sendingâ âNancy only welcomed the question with open arms. She was sure that, with a clean conscience today, she could set the love-hungry little girlâs heart at rest.
âLikes ter have ye here? Would she miss ye if ye waânât here?â cried Nancy, indignantly. âAs if that waânât jest what I was tellinâ of ye! Didnât she send me posthaste with an umbrella âcause she see a little cloud in the sky? Didnât she make me tote yer things all downstairs, so you could have the pretty room you wanted? Why, Miss Pollyanna, when ye remember how at first she hated ter haveâ ââ
With a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up just in time.
âAnd it ainât jest things I can put my fingers on, neither,â rushed on Nancy, breathlessly. âItâs little ways she has, that shows how youâve been softeninâ her up anâ mellerinâ her downâ âthe cat, and the dog, and the way she speaks ter me, and oh, lots oâ things. Why, Miss Pollyanna, there ainât no tellinâ how sheâd miss yeâ âif ye waânât here,â finished Nancy, speaking with an enthusiastic certainty that was meant to hide the perilous admission she had almost made before. Even then she was not quite prepared for the sudden joy that illumined Pollyannaâs face.
âOh, Nancy, Iâm so gladâ âgladâ âglad! You donât know how glad I am that Aunt Pollyâ âwants me!â
âAs if Iâd leave her now!â thought Pollyanna, as she climbed the stairs to her room a little later. âI always knew I wanted to live with Aunt Pollyâ âbut I reckon maybe I didnât know quite how much I wanted Aunt Pollyâ âto want to live with me!â
The task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an easy one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John Pendleton, and she was very sorry for himâ âbecause he seemed to be so sorry for himself. She was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that had made him so unhappy; and she was grieved that it had been because of her mother that he had spent those dreary years. She pictured the great gray house as it would be after its master was well again, with its silent rooms, its littered floors, its disordered desk; and her heart ached for his loneliness. She wished that somewhere, someone might be found whoâ âAnd it was at this point that she sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy at the thought that had come to her.
As soon as she could, after that, she hurried up the hill to John Pendletonâs house; and in due time she found herself in the great dim library, with John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, thin hands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and his faithful little dog at his feet.
âWell, Pollyanna, is it to be the âglad gameâ with me, all the rest of my life?â asked the man, gently.
âOh, yes,â cried Pollyanna. âIâve thought of the very gladdest kind of a thing for you to do, andâ ââ
âWithâ âyou?â asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern at the corners.
âN-no; butâ ââ
âPollyanna, you arenât going to say no!â interrupted a voice deep with emotion.
âIâ âIâve got to, Mr. Pendleton; truly I have. Aunt Pollyâ ââ
âDid she refuseâ âto let youâ âcome?â
âIâ âI didnât ask her,â stammered the little girl, miserably.
âPollyanna!â
Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved gaze of her friend.
âSo you didnât even ask her!â
âI couldnât, sirâ âtruly,â faltered Pollyanna. âYou see, I found outâ âwithout asking. Aunt Polly wants me with her, andâ âand I want to stay, too,â she confessed bravely. âYou donât know how good sheâs been to me; andâ âand I think, really, sometimes sheâs beginning to be glad about thingsâ âlots of things. And you know she never used to be. You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I couldnât leave Aunt Pollyâ ânow!â
There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke.
âNo, Pollyanna; I see. You couldnât leave herâ ânow,â he said. âI wonât ask youâ âagain.â The last word was so low it was almost inaudible; but Pollyanna heard.
âOh, but you donât know about the rest of it,â she reminded him eagerly. âThereâs the very gladdest thing you can doâ âtruly there is!â
âNot for me, Pollyanna.â
âYes, sir, for you. You said it. You said only aâ âa womanâs hand
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