Pollyanna Grows Up Eleanor H. Porter (booksvooks .TXT) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
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The other turned eagerly.
âSure enough, you have seen her! Tell me about her.â
A shrewd twinkle came into John Pendletonâs eyes.
âOh, but I thought you didnât want to know Pollyannaâ âgrown up.â
With a grimace the young fellow tossed this aside.
âIs she pretty?â
âOh, ye young men!â shrugged John Pendleton, in mock despair. âAlways the first questionâ ââIs she pretty?â!â
âWell, is she?â insisted the youth.
âIâll let you judge for yourself. If youâ âOn second thoughts, though, I believe I wonât. You might be too disappointed. Pollyanna isnât pretty, so far as regular features, curls, and dimples go. In fact, to my certain knowledge the great cross in Pollyannaâs life thus far is that she is so sure she isnât pretty. Long ago she told me that black curls were one of the things she was going to have when she got to Heaven; and last year in Rome she said something else. It wasnât much, perhaps, so far as words went, but I detected the longing beneath. She said she did wish that sometime someone would write a novel with a heroine who had straight hair and a freckle on her nose; but that she supposed she ought to be glad girls in books didnât have to have them.â
âThat sounds like the old Pollyanna.â
âOh, youâll still find herâ âPollyanna,â smiled the man, quizzically. âBesides, I think sheâs pretty. Her eyes are lovely. She is the picture of health. She carries herself with all the joyous springiness of youth, and her whole face lights up so wonderfully when she talks that you quite forget whether her features are regular or not.â
âDoes she stillâ âplay the game?â
John Pendleton smiled fondly.
âI imagine she plays it, but she doesnât say much about it now, I fancy. Anyhow, she didnât to me, the two or three times I saw her.â
There was a short silence; then, a little slowly, young Pendleton said:
âI think that was one of the things that was worrying me. That game has been so much to so many people. It has meant so much everywhere, all through the town! I couldnât bear to think of her giving it up and not playing it. At the same time I couldnât fancy a grown-up Pollyanna perpetually admonishing people to be glad for something. Someway, Iâ âwell, as I said, Iâ âI just didnât want Pollyanna to grow up, anyhow.â
âWell, I wouldnât worry,â shrugged the elder man, with a peculiar smile. âAlways, with Pollyanna, you know, it was the âclearing-up shower,â both literally and figuratively; and I think youâll find she lives up to the same principle nowâ âthough perhaps not quite in the same way. Poor child, I fear sheâll need some kind of game to make existence endurable, for a while, at least.â
âDo you mean because Mrs. Chilton has lost her money? Are they so very poor, then?â
âI suspect they are. In fact, they are in rather bad shape, so far as money matters go, as I happen to know. Mrs. Chiltonâs own fortune has shrunk unbelievably, and poor Tomâs estate is very small, and hopelessly full of bad debtsâ âprofessional services never paid for, and that never will be paid for. Tom could never say no when his help was needed, and all the dead beats in town knew it and imposed on him accordingly. Expenses have been heavy with him lately. Besides, he expected great things when he should have completed this special work in Germany. Naturally he supposed his wife and Pollyanna were more than amply provided for through the Harrington estate; so he had no worry in that direction.â
âHm-m; I see, I see. Too bad, too bad!â
âBut that isnât all. It was about two months after Tomâs death that I saw Mrs. Chilton and Pollyanna in Rome, and Mrs. Chilton then was in a terrible state. In addition to her sorrow, she had just begun to get an inkling of the trouble with her finances, and she was nearly frantic. She refused to come home. She declared she never wanted to see Beldingsville, or anybody in it, again. You see, she has always been a peculiarly proud woman, and it was all affecting her in a rather curious way. Pollyanna said that her aunt seemed possessed with the idea that Beldingsville had not approved of her marrying Dr. Chilton in the first place, at her age; and now that he was dead, she felt that they were utterly out of sympathy in any grief that she might show. She resented keenly, too, the fact that they must now know that she was poor as well as widowed. In short, she had worked herself into an utterly morbid, wretched state, as unreasonable as it was terrible. Poor little Pollyanna! It was a marvel to me how she stood it. All is, if Mrs. Chilton kept it up, and continues to keep it up, that child will be a wreck. Thatâs why I said Pollyanna would need some kind of a game if ever anybody did.â
âThe pity of it!â âto think of that happening to Pollyanna!â exclaimed the young man, in a voice that was not quite steady.
âYes; and you can see all is not right by the way they are coming todayâ âso quietly, with not a word to anybody. That was Polly Chiltonâs doings, Iâll warrant. She didnât want to be met by anybody. I understand she wrote to no one but her Old Tomâs wife, Mrs. Durgin, who had the keys.â
âYes, so Nancy told meâ âgood old soul! Sheâd got the whole house open, and had contrived somehow to make it look as if it wasnât a tomb of dead hopes and lost pleasures. Of course the grounds looked fairly well, for Old Tom has kept them up, after a fashion. But it made my heart acheâ âthe whole thing.â
There was a long silence, then, curtly, John Pendleton suggested:
âThey ought to be met.â
âThey will be met.â
âAre you going to the station?â
âI am.â
âThen you know what train theyâre coming on.â
âOh, no. Neither does
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