Pollyanna Eleanor H. Porter (classic english novels txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor H. Porter
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âOh, butâ âbut youâve made an awful mistake, d-dear,â she faltered. âIâm only Nancy. I ainât your Aunt Polly, at all!â
âYouâ âyou arenât?â stammered the little girl, in plain dismay.
âNo. Iâm only Nancy. I never thought of your takinâ me for her. Weâ âwe ainât a bit alike we ainât, we ainât!â
Timothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the merry flash from his eyes.
âBut who are you?â questioned Pollyanna. âYou donât look a bit like a Ladiesâ Aider!â
Timothy laughed outright this time.
âIâm Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washinâ anâ hard ironinâ. Misâ Durgin does that.â
âBut there is an Aunt Polly?â demanded the child, anxiously.
âYou bet your life there is,â cut in Timothy.
Pollyanna relaxed visibly.
âOh, thatâs all right, then.â There was a momentâs silence, then she went on brightly: âAnd do you know? Iâm glad, after all, that she didnât come to meet me; because now Iâve got her still coming, and Iâve got you besides.â
Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile.
âI call that a pretty slick compliment,â he said. âWhy donât you thank the little lady?â
âIâ âI was thinkinâ aboutâ âMiss Polly,â faltered Nancy.
Pollyanna sighed contentedly.
âI was, too. Iâm so interested in her. You know sheâs all the aunt Iâve got, and I didnât know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. He said she lived in a lovely great big house âway on top of a hill.â
âShe does. You can see it now,â said Nancy.
âItâs that big white one with the green blinds, âway ahead.â
âOh, how pretty!â âand what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I never saw such a lot of green grass, seems so, all at once. Is my Aunt Polly rich, Nancy?â
âYes, Miss.â
âIâm so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. I never knew any one that did have, only the Whitesâ âtheyâre some rich. They have carpets in every room and ice cream Sundays. Does Aunt Polly have ice-cream Sundays?â
Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into Timothyâs eyes.
âNo, Miss. Your aunt donât like ice-cream, I guess; leastways I never saw it on her table.â
Pollyannaâs face fell.
âOh, doesnât she? Iâm so sorry! I donât see how she can help liking ice-cream. Butâ âanyhow, I can be kinder glad about that, âcause the ice-cream you donât eat canât make your stomach ache like Mrs. Whiteâs didâ âthat is, I ate hers, you know, lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets, though.â
âYes, sheâs got the carpets.â
âIn every room?â
âWell, in almost every room,â answered Nancy, frowning suddenly at the thought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet.
âOh, Iâm so glad,â exulted Pollyanna. âI love carpets. We didnât have any, only two little rugs that came in a missionary barrel, and one of those had ink spots on it. Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly beautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a lionâ ânot together, you knowâ âthe lambs and the lion. Oh, of course the Bible says they will sometime, but they havenât yetâ âthat is, I mean Mrs. Whiteâs havenât. Donât you just love pictures?â
âIâ âI donât know,â answered Nancy in a half-stifled voice.
âI do. We didnât have any pictures. They donât come in the barrels much, you know. There did two come once, though. But one was so good father sold it to get money to buy me some shoes with; and the other was so bad it fell to pieces just as soon as we hung it up. Glassâ âit broke, you know. And I cried. But Iâm glad now we didnât have any of those nice things, âcause I shall like Aunt Pollyâs all the betterâ ânot being used to âem, you see. Just as it is when the pretty hair-ribbons come in the barrels after a lot of faded-out brown ones. My! but isnât this a perfectly beautiful house?â she broke off fervently, as they turned into the wide driveway.
It was when Timothy was unloading the trunk that Nancy found an opportunity to mutter low in his ear:
âDonât you never say nothinâ ter me again about leavinâ, Timothy Durgin. You couldnât hire me ter leave!â
âLeave! I should say not,â grinned the youth.
âYou couldnât drag me away. Itâll be more fun here now, with that kid âround, than movinâ-picture shows, every day!â
âFun!â âfun!â repeated Nancy, indignantly, âI guess itâll be somethinâ more than fun for that blessed childâ âwhen them two tries ter live tergether; and I guess sheâll be a-needinâ some rock ter fly to for refuge. Well, Iâm a-goinâ ter be that rock, Timothy; I am, I am!â she vowed, as she turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps.
IV The Little Attic RoomMiss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece. She looked up from her book, it is true, as Nancy and the little girl appeared in the sitting-room doorway, and she held out a hand with âdutyâ written large on every coldly extended finger.
âHow do you do, Pollyanna? Iâ ââ She had no chance to say more. Pollyanna, had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into her auntâs scandalized, unyielding lap.
âOh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I donât know how to be glad enough that you let me come to live with you,â she was sobbing. âYou donât know how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after youâve had just the Ladiesâ Aid!â
âVery likelyâ âthough Iâve not had the pleasure of the Ladiesâ Aidâs acquaintance,â rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly, trying to unclasp the small, clinging fingers, and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in the doorway. âNancy, that will do. You may go. Pollyanna, be good enough, please, to stand erect in a proper manner. I donât know yet what you look like.â
Pollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little hysterically.
âNo, I suppose you donât; but you see Iâm not very much to look at, anyway, on account of the freckles. Oh, and
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