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
Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his eyes.
âThen I tried ter remind her how she used ter say the game was all the nicer ter play whenâ âwhen it was hard,â resumed Nancy, in a dull voice. âBut she says that, too, is diffârentâ âwhen it really is hard. Anâ I must be goinâ, now, sir,â she broke off abruptly.
At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly:
âI couldnât be tellinâ Miss Pollyanna thatâ âthat youâd seen Jimmy Bean again, I sâpose, sir, could I?â
âI donât see how you couldâ âas I havenât seen him,â observed the man a little shortly. âWhy?â
âNothinâ, sir, onlyâ âwell, ye see, thatâs one of the things that she was feelinâ bad about, that she couldnât take him ter see you, now. She said sheâd taken him once, but she didnât think he showed off very well that day, and that she was afraid you didnât think he would make a very nice childâs presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; but I didnât, sir.â
âYes, I knowâ âwhat she means.â
âAll right, sir. It was only that she was wantinâ ter take him again, she said, soâs ter show ye he really was a lovely childâs presence. And now sheâ âcanâtâ âdrat that autymobile! I begs yer pardon, sir. Goodbye!â And Nancy fled precipitately.
It did not take long for the entire town of Beldingsville to learn that the great New York doctor had said Pollyanna Whittier would never walk again; and certainly never before had the town been so stirred. Everybody knew by sight now the piquant little freckled face that had always a smile of greeting; and almost everybody knew of the âgameâ that Pollyanna was playing. To think that now never again would that smiling face be seen on their streetsâ ânever again would that cheery little voice proclaim the gladness of some everyday experience! It seemed unbelievable, impossible, cruel.
In kitchens and sitting rooms, and over backyard fences women talked of it, and wept openly. On street corners and in store lounging-places the men talked, too, and weptâ âthough not so openly. And neither the talking nor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels of the news itself, came Nancyâs pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what had come to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact that she could not play the game; that she could not now be glad overâ âanything.
It was then that the same thought must have, in some way, come to Pollyannaâs friends. At all events, almost at once, the mistress of the Harrington homestead, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls: calls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men, women, and childrenâ âmany of whom Miss Polly had not supposed that her niece knew at all.
Some came in and sat down for a stiff five or ten minutes. Some stood awkwardly on the porch steps, fumbling with hats or handbags, according to their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of flowers, or a dainty to tempt the palate. Some cried frankly. Some turned their backs and blew their noses furiously. But all inquired very anxiously for the little injured girl; and all sent to her some messageâ âand it was these messages which, after a time, stirred Miss Polly to action.
First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches today.
âI donât need to tell you how shocked I am,â he began almost harshly. âBut canâ ânothing be done?â
Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair.
âOh, weâre âdoing,â of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain treatments and medicines that might help, and Dr. Warren is carrying them out to the letter, of course. Butâ âDr. Mead held out almost no hope.â
John Pendleton rose abruptlyâ âthough he had but just come. His face was white, and his mouth was set into stern lines. Miss Polly, looking at him, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her presence. At the door he turned.
âI have a message for Pollyanna,â he said. âWill you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy Bean andâ âthat heâs going to be my boy hereafter. Tell her I thought she would beâ âglad to know. I shall adopt him, probably.â
For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control.
âYou will adopt Jimmy Bean!â she gasped.
The man lifted his chin a little.
âYes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she would beâ âglad!â
âWhy, ofâ âof course,â faltered Miss Polly.
âThank you,â bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go.
In the middle of the floor Miss Polly stood, silent and amazed, still looking after the man who had just left her. Even yet she could scarcely believe what her ears had heard. John Pendleton adopt Jimmy Bean? John Pendleton, wealthy, independent, morose, reputed to be miserly and supremely selfish, to adopt a little boyâ âand such a little boy?
With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went upstairs to Pollyannaâs room.
âPollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He has just been here. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. He said he thought youâd be glad to know it.â
Pollyannaâs wistful little face flamed into sudden joy.
âGlad? Glad? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, Iâve so wanted to find a place for Jimmyâ âand thatâs such a lovely place! Besides, Iâm so glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now heâll have the childâs presence.â
âTheâ âwhat?â
Pollyanna colored painfully. She had
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