Pollyanna Eleanor H. Porter (classic english novels txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
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âThe childâs presence,â stammered Pollyanna, hastily. âMr. Pendleton told me once, you see, that only a womanâs hand and heart or a childâs presence could make aâ âa home. And now heâs got itâ âthe childâs presence.â
âOh, Iâ âsee,â said Miss Polly very gently; and she did seeâ âmore than Pollyanna realized. She saw something of the pressure that was probably brought to bear on Pollyanna herself at the time John Pendleton was asking her to be the âchildâs presence,â which was to transform his great pile of gray stone into a home. âI see,â she finished, her eyes stinging with sudden tears.
Pollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask further embarrassing questions, hastened to lead the conversation away from the Pendleton house and its master.
âDr. Chilton says so, tooâ âthat it takes a womanâs hand and heart, or a childâs presence, to make a home, you know,â she remarked.
Miss Polly turned with a start.
âDr. Chilton! How do you knowâ âthat?â
âHe told me so. âTwas when he said he lived in just rooms, you knowâ ânot a home.â
Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window.
âSo I asked him why he didnât get âemâ âa womanâs hand and heart, and have a home.â
âPollyanna!â Miss Polly had turned sharply. Her cheeks showed a sudden color.
âWell, I did. He looked soâ âso sorrowful.â
âWhat did heâ âsay?â Miss Polly asked the question as if in spite of some force within her that was urging her not to ask it.
âHe didnât say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you couldnât always get âem for the asking.â
There was a brief silence. Miss Pollyâs eyes had turned again to the window. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink.
Pollyanna sighed.
âHe wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.â
âWhy, Pollyanna, how do you know?â
âBecause, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said that low, too, but I heard him. He said that heâd give all the world if he did have one womanâs hand and heart. Why, Aunt Polly, whatâs the matter?â Aunt Polly had risen hurriedly and gone to the window.
âNothing, dear. I was changing the position of this prism,â said Aunt Polly, whose whole face now was aflame.
XXVIII The Game and Its PlayersIt was not long after John Pendletonâs second visit that Milly Snow called one afternoon. Milly Snow had never before been to the Harrington homestead. She blushed and looked very embarrassed when Miss Polly entered the room.
âIâ âI came to inquire for the little girl,â she stammered.
âYou are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?â rejoined Miss Polly, wearily.
âThat is what I came to tell youâ âthat is, to ask you to tell Miss Pollyanna,â hurried on the girl, breathlessly and incoherently. âWe think itâsâ âso awfulâ âso perfectly awful that the little thing canât ever walk again; and after all sheâs done for us, tooâ âfor mother, you know, teaching her to play the game, and all that. And when we heard how now she couldnât play it herselfâ âpoor little dear! Iâm sure I donât see how she can, either, in her condition!â âbut when we remembered all the things sheâd said to us, we thought if she could only know what she had done for us, that it would help, you know, in her own case, about the game, because she could be gladâ âthat is, a little gladâ ââ Milly stopped helplessly, and seemed to be waiting for Miss Polly to speak.
Miss Polly had sat politely listening, but with a puzzled questioning in her eyes. Only about half of what had been said, had she understood. She was thinking now that she always had known that Milly Snow was âqueer,â but she had not supposed she was crazy. In no other way, however, could she account for this incoherent, illogical, unmeaning rush of words. When the pause came she filled it with a quiet:
âI donât think I quite understand, Milly. Just what is it that you want me to tell my niece?â
âYes, thatâs it; I want you to tell her,â answered the girl, feverishly. âMake her see what sheâs done for us. Of course sheâs seen some things, because sheâs been there, and sheâs known mother is different; but I want her to know how different she isâ âand me, too. Iâm different. Iâve been trying to play itâ âthe gameâ âa little.â
Miss Polly frowned. She would have asked what Milly meant by this âgame,â but there was no opportunity. Milly was rushing on again with nervous volubility.
âYou know nothing was ever right beforeâ âfor mother. She was always wanting âem different. And, really, I donât know as one could blame her muchâ âunder the circumstances. But now she lets me keep the shades up, and she takes interest in thingsâ âhow she looks, and her nightdress, and all that. And sheâs actually begun to knit little thingsâ âreins and baby blankets for fairs and hospitals. And sheâs so interested, and so glad to think she can do it!â âand that was all Miss Pollyannaâs doings, you know, âcause she told mother she could be glad sheâd got her hands and arms, anyway; and that made mother wonder right away why she didnât do something with her hands and arms. And so she began to do somethingâ âto knit, you know. And you canât think what a different room it is now, what with the red and blue and yellow worsteds, and the prisms in the window that she gave herâ âwhy, it actually makes you feel better just to go in there now; and before I used to dread it awfully, it was so dark and gloomy, and mother was soâ âso unhappy, you know.
âAnd so we want you to please tell Miss Pollyanna that we understand itâs all because of her. And please say weâre so glad we know her, that we thought, maybe if
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