 26 A door, a jar. Just a week from the time Dr. Meade, the specialist, was first expected, he came. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind, gray eyes, and a cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once, and told him so. "'You look quite a lot like my doctor, you see,' she added, engagingly. "'Your doctor?' Dr. Meade glanced in evident surprise at Dr. Warren, talking with the nurse a few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small, brown-eyed man with a pointed, brown beard. "'Oh, that isn't my doctor,' smiled Pollyanna, dividing his thought. "'Dr. Warren is Aunt Polly's doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.' "'Oh!' said Dr. Meade a little oddly. His eyes resting on Miss Polly, who, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away. "'Yes,' Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness. "'You see, I wanted Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted you.' She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, anyway, about broken legs like mine. And of course, if you do, I can be glad for that. Do you?' A swift something crossed the doctor's face that Pollyanna could not quite translate. Any time can tell that, little girl, he said gently. Then he turned a grave face toward Dr. Warren, who had just come to the bedside. Everyone said afterward that it was the cat that did it. Certainly if Fluffy had not poked an insistent paw and nose against Pollyanna's unlatched door, the door would not have swung noiselessly open on its hinges, until it stood, perhaps, a foot ajar. And if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt's words. In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly, stood talking. In Pollyanna's room Fluffy had just jumped to the bed with a little purring, meow, of joy, when through the open door sounded clearly and sharply Aunt Polly's agonized exclamation. "'Not that, Doctor. Not that. We don't mean the child will never walk again.' It was all confusion then. First from the bedroom came Pollyanna's terrified. "'Aunt Polly! Aunt Polly!' Then Miss Polly, seeing the open door and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan, and for the first time in her life fainted dead away. The nurse, with a choking, she heard, stumbled toward the open door. The two doctors stayed with Miss Polly. Doctor Meade had to stay. He had caught Miss Polly as she fell. Doctor Warren stood by helplessly. It was not until Pollyanna cried out again sharply, and the nurse closed the door, that the two men, with a despairing glance into each other's eyes, awoke to the immediate duty of bringing the woman in Doctor Meade's arms back to unhappy consciousness. In Pollyanna's room the nurse had found a purring grey cat on the bed, vainly trying to attract the attention of a white-faced, wild-eyed little girl. "'Miss Hunt, please! I want Aunt Polly! I want her right away! Quick, please!' The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very pale. "'She—she can't come just this minute, dear. She will—a little later. What is it? Can't I get it?' Pollyanna shook her head. "'But I want to know what she said just now. Did you hear her? I want Aunt Polly! She said something. I want her to tell me, tisn't true—tisn't true!' The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Nothing in her face sent an added terror in Pollyanna's eyes. "'Miss Hunt, you did hear her? It is true!' "'Oh, it isn't true! You don't mean I can't ever walk again?' "'There, there, dear, don't. Don't!' choked the nurse. Perhaps he didn't know. Perhaps he was mistaken. There's a lot of things that could happen, you know.' "'But Aunt Polly said he did know. She said he knew more than anybody else about—about broken legs like mine.' "'Yes, yes, I know, dear. But all doctors make mistakes sometimes.' "'Just—just don't think any more about it now. Please don't, dear.' Pollyanna flung out her arms wildly. "'But I can't help thinking about it,' she sobbed. "'It's all there is now to think about. Why, Miss Hunt, how am I going to school? Or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or—or anybody?' She caught her breath and sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly she stopped and looked up, a new terror in her eyes. "'Why, Miss Hunt, if I can't walk, how am I ever going to be glad for—anything?' Miss Hunt did not know the game, but she did know that her patient must be quieted, and that at once. In spite of her own perturbation and heartache, her hands had not been idle, and she stood now at the bedside with the quieting powder ready. "'There, there, dear, just take this,' she soothed, and by and by will be more rested. And we'll see what can be done then. Things aren't half as bad as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.' Suddenly Pollyanna took the medicine, and sipped the water from the glass in Miss Hunt's hand. "'I know. That sounds like the things Father used to say,' faltered Pollyanna, blinking off the tears. He said there was always something about everything that might be worse. But I reckon he'd never just heard he couldn't ever walk again. I don't see how there can be anything about that. That could be worse. Do you?' Miss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust herself to speak just then. Chapter 27 Two Visits It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Meade's verdict. Miss Polly had remembered her promise to let him have direct information from the house. To go herself or to write a letter she felt to be almost equally out of the question. It occurred to her then to send Nancy. There had been a time when Nancy would have rejoiced greatly at this extraordinary opportunity to see something of the house of mystery and its master. But today her heart was too heavy to rejoice at anything. She scarcely even looked about her at all, indeed, during the few minutes she waited for Mr. John Pendleton to appear. "'I'm Nancy, sir,' she said respectfully in response to the surprised questioning of his eyes, when he came into the room. Miss Harrington sent me to tell you about Miss Pollyanna.' "'Well?' In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the anxiety that lay behind that short, well. "'It ain't well, Mr. Pendleton,' she choked. "'You don't mean,' he paused, and she bowed her head miserably. "'Yes, sir,' he says, she can't walk again never. For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with emotion. "'Poor little girl, poor little girl!' Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. She had not supposed that sour, cross, stern John Pendleton could look like that. In a moment he spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice. It seems cruel never to dance in the sunshine again, my little prism girl.' There was another silence, then abruptly the man asked. She herself doesn't know yet, of course, does she? But she does, sir, sobbed Nancy, and that's what makes it all the harder. She found out, draped that cat, I begs your pardon, apologized the girl hurriedly. It's only that the cat pushed open the door, and Miss Pollyanna overheard him talking. She found out that way. "'Poor little girl,' sighed the man again. "'Yes, sir, you'd say so, sir, if you could see her,' choked Nancy. I ain't seen her but twice since she knew about it, and it done me up both times. You see, it's also fresh and new to her, and she keeps thinking all the time of new things she can't do now. It worries her, too, because she can't seem to be glad. Maybe you don't know about her game, though,' broke off Nancy apologetically. "'The glad game?' asked the man. "'Oh, yes, she told me of that.' "'Oh, she did?' "'Well, I guess she has told it generally to most folks. But you see, now she—she can't play it herself, and it worries her. She says she can't think of a thing, not a thing about this not walking again, to be glad about. Well why should she,' retorted the man, almost savagely?' Nancy shifted her feet uneasily. That's the way I felt, too, till I happened to think it would be easier if she could find something, you know, so I tried to—to remind her—to remind her of what, John Pendleton's voice was still angrily impatient, of how she told others to play it, Miss Snow and the rest, you know, and what she said for them to do. But the poor little lamb just cries and says it don't seem the same somehow. She says it's easy to tell lifelong invalids how to be glad, but taint the same when you're the lifelong invalid yourself, and have to try to do it. She says she told herself over and over again how glad she is that other folks ain't like her, but that all the time she's saying it she ain't really thinking of anything, only how she can't ever walk again. Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his eyes. Then I tried to remind her how she used to say, the game was all the nicer to play, when it was hard, resumed Nancy, in a dull voice, but she says that, too, is different, when it really is hard. When I must be going now, sir, she broke off abruptly. At the door she hesitated, turned and asked timidly, I couldn't be a-telling, Miss Pollyanna, that, that you'd seen Jimmy Bean again, I suppose, sir, could I? I don't see how you could, as I haven't seen him, observed the man, a little shortly, why? Nothing, sir, only well. You see, that's one of the things that she was feeling bad about, that she couldn't take him to see you now. She said she'd taken him once, but she didn't think he showed off very well that day, and that she was afraid you didn't think he would make a very nice child's presence after all. Maybe you know what she means by that, but I didn't, sir. Yes, I know what she means. All right, sir, it was only that she was wanting to take him again, she said. So's to show ye, he really was a lovely child's presence. And now she can't, draught that automobile, I begs your pardon, sir, good-bye, 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 pecan't little freckled face that had always a smile of greeting and almost everybody knew of the game that Pollyanna was playing, to think that now never again would that smiling face be seen on their streets, never 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 wept, though not so openly. And neither the talking nor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels on the news itself came Nancy's 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 over anything. It was then that the same thought must have in some way come to Pollyanna's 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 children, many 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 at 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 palette. 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 message, and it was these messages which after a time stirred Miss Polly to action. First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches today. I don't need to tell you how shocked I am he began almost harshly. But can nothing be done? Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair. Oh, we're doing, 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, but Dr. Mead held out almost no hope. John Pendleton rose abruptly, though 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. I have a message for Pollyanna, he said. Will you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy Bean, and that he's going to be my boy hereafter? Tell her I thought she would be glad to know. I shall adopt him, probably. For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control. You will adopt Jimmy Bean, she gasped. The man lifted his chin a little. Yes, I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she would be glad. Why, of course, faltered Miss Polly. Thank you, bowed John Pendleton, as they 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 boy? And such a little boy? With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went upstairs to Pollyanna's room. Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He has just been here. He says, to tell you, that he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. He said he thought you'd be glad to know it. Pollyanna's wistful little face flamed with sudden joy. Glad? Glad? Well, I reckon I am glad. Oh Aunt Polly, I've so wanted to find a place for Jimmy, and that's such a lovely place. Besides, I'm so glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he'll have the child's presence. The what? Pollyanna colored painfully. She had forgotten that she had never told her aunt of Mr. Pendleton's desire to adopt her, and certainly she would not wish to tell her now that she had ever thought for a minute of leaving her, this dear Aunt Polly. The child's presence, stammered Pollyanna hastily. Mr. Pendleton told me once you see that only a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence, could make a home, and now he's got it, the child's presence. Oh, I see, said Miss Polly very gently, and she did see, more 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 child's presence, which was to transform his great pile of a grey stone into a home. I see, 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. The Chilton says so too, that it takes a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence to make a home, you know, she remarked. Miss Polly turned with a start. Dr. Chilton, how do you know that? He told me so, it was when he said he lived in just rooms, you know, not a home. Miss Polly did not answer, her eyes were out the window. So I asked him why he didn't get him, a woman's hand and heart and have a home. Pollyanna! Miss Polly had turned sharply, her cheeks showed a sudden colour. Well I did, he looked so, so sorrowful. What did he say? Miss Polly asked the question as if in spite of some force within her that was urging her not to ask it. He didn't say anything for a minute. Then he said very low that you couldn't always get him for the asking. There was a brief silence. Miss Polly's eyes had turned again to the window, her cheeks were still unnaturally pink. Pollyanna sighed. He wants one anyhow, I know, and I wish she could have one. Why Pollyanna, how do you know? Because afterwards on another day he said something else. He said that low too, but I heard him. He said that he'd give all the world if he did have one woman's hand and heart. Why Aunt Polly, what's the matter? Aunt Polly had risen hurriedly and gone to the window. Nothing dear, I was changing the position of this prism, said Aunt Polly, whose whole face now was aflame. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 28 The Game and Its Players It was not long after John Pendleton's second visit that Millie Snow called one afternoon. Millie Snow had never before been to the Harrington homestead. She blushed and looked very embarrassed when Miss Polly entered the room. I—I came to inquire for the little girl, she stammered. You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother? rejoined Miss Polly wearily. That is what I came to tell you—that is, to ask you to tell Miss Pollyanna not hurried on the girl, breathlessly and incoherently. We think it's so awful, so perfectly awful, that the little thing can't ever walk again. And after all she's done for us, too—for mother, you know—teaching her to play the game—and all that. And when we heard how now she couldn't play it herself, poor little dear, I'm sure I don't see how she can, either, in her condition. But when we remembered all the things she'd 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 glad—that is, a little glad—Millie 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 had always known that Millie's snow was queer, 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, I don't think I quite understand, Millie. Just what is it that you want me to tell my niece? Yes, that's it. I want you to tell her, answered the girl feverishly. Make her see what she's done for us. Of course she's seen some things, because she's been there, and she's known Mother is different. But I want her to know how different she is, and me too. I'm different. I've been trying to play it, the game, a little. Miss Polly frowned. She would have asked what Millie meant by this game, but there was no opportunity. Millie was rushing on again with nervous volubility. You know nothing was ever right before, for Mother. She was always wanting them different. And really, I don't know as one could blame her much under the circumstances. But now she lets me keep the shades up, and she takes interest in things—how she looks and her nightdress and all that. And she's actually begun to knit little things—rains and baby blankets for fairs and hospitals. And she's so interested and so glad to think she can do it. And that was all Miss Polly Anna's doing, you know, because she told Mother she could be glad she got her hands and arms anyway, and that made Mother wonder right away why she didn't do something with her hands and arms. And so she began to do something—to knit, you know. And you can't think what a different room it is now, what with the red and blue and yellow worsteds and the prisms on the window that she gave her, why 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 so—so unhappy. You know. And so we want you to please tell Miss Polly Anna that we understand it's all because of her. And please say we're so glad we know her, that we thought maybe if she knew it, it would make her a little glad that she knew us. And—and that's all, sighed Millie, rising hurriedly to her feet. You'll tell her? Why of course, murmured Miss Polly, wondering just how much of this remarkable bold discourse she could remember to tell. These visits of John Pendleton and Millie Snow were only the first of many. And always there were the messages—the messages which were in some ways so curious that they caused Miss Polly more and more to puzzle over them. One day there was the little widow Benton. Miss Polly knew her well, though they had never called upon each other. By reputation she knew her as the saddest little woman in town, one who was always in black. Today however, Mrs. Benton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat, though there were tears in her eyes. She spoke of her grief and horror at the accident. Then she asked diffidently if she might see Polly Anna. Miss Polly shook her head. I am sorry, but she sees no one yet—a little later, perhaps. Mrs. Benton wiped her eyes, rose, and turned to go. But after she had almost reached the hall door she came back hurriedly. Miss Harrington, perhaps she'd give her a message, she stammered. Certainly, Mrs. Benton, I should be very glad to. Still, the little woman hesitated, then she spoke. Will you tell her, please, that—that I've put on this, she said, just touching the blue bow at her throat? Then at Miss Polly's ill-concealed look of surprise she added. The little girl has been trying for so long to make me wear some colour, that I thought she'd be glad to know I'd begun. She said that Freddie would be so glad to see it. If I would, you know Freddie's all I have now. The others have all. Mrs. Benton shook her head and turned away. If you'll just tell Polly Anna, she'll understand, and the door closed after her. A little later, that same day, there was the other widow. At least she wore widow's garments. Miss Polly did not know her at all. She wondered vaguely how Polly Anna could have known her. The lady gave her name as Mrs. Tarbell. I'm a stranger to you, of course, she began at once, but I'm not a stranger to your little niece Polly Anna. I've been at the hotel all summer, and every day I've had to take long walks for my health. It was on these walks that I've met your niece. She's such a dear little girl. I wish I could make you understand what she's been to me. I was very sad when I came up here, and her bright face and cheery ways reminded me of my own little girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear of the accident. And then when I learned that the poor child would never walk again, and that she was so unhappy because she couldn't be glad any longer, the dear child, I just had to come to you. You are very kind, murmured Miss Polly. But it is you who are to be kind, murmured the other. I—I want you to give her a message from me, will you? Certainly. Will you just tell her then that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now? Yes, I know it sounds odd, and you don't understand, but if you'll pardon me I'd rather not explain. Sad lines came to the lady's mouth, and a smile left her eyes. Her niece will know just what I mean, and I felt that I must tell her. Thank you, and pardon me please for any seeming rudeness in my call, she begged, as she took her leave. Thoroughly mystified now Miss Polly hurried upstairs to Polly on his room. Do you know a Mrs. Tarbell? Oh, yes, I love Mrs. Tarbell. She's sick and awfully sad, and she's at the hotel and takes long walks. We go together. I mean, we used to. Pollyanna's voice broke, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. Miss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly. Well, she's just been here, dear. She left a message for you, but she wouldn't tell me what it meant. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now. Pollyanna clapped her hands softly. Did she say that, really? Oh, I'm so glad. But Pollyanna, what did she mean? Why, it's the game, and Pollyanna stopped short, her fingers to her lips. What game? Nothing much, Aunt Polly, that is. I can't tell it unless I tell other things that I'm not to speak of. It was on Miss Polly's tongue to question her neaths further. But the obvious distress on the little girl's face stayed the words before they were uttered. Not long after Mrs. Tarbell's visit the climax came. It came in the shape of a call from a certain young woman with unnaturally pink cheeks and abnormally yellow hair. A young woman who wore high heels and cheap jewelry. A young woman who Miss Polly knew very well by reputation, but whom she was angrily amazed to meet beneath the roof of the Harrington Homestead. Miss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew back indeed as she entered the room. The woman rose at once. Her eyes were very red as if she had been crying. Half defiantly she asked if she might for a moment see the little girl Pollyanna. Miss Polly said no. She began to say it very sternly. But something in the woman's pleading eyes made her add the civil explanation that no one was allowed yet to see Pollyanna. The woman hesitated, then a little breast-glaze she spoke. Her chin was still at a slightly defiant tilt. My name is Mrs. Payson, Mrs. Tom Payson. I presume you've heard of me. Most of the good people in the town have. And maybe some of the things you've heard ain't true. But never mind that. It's about the little girl I came. I heard about the accident, and it broke me all up. Last week I heard how she couldn't ever walk again, and I wished I could give up my two uselessly well-legs for hers. She'd do more good trotting around them on one hour than I could do in a hundred years. But never mind that. This ain't always given to the one who can make the best use of them, I notice. She paused and cleared her throat. But when she resumed, her voice was still husky. Maybe you don't know it, but I've seen a good deal of that little girl of yours. We live on the Pendleton Hill Road, and she used to go by often. Only she didn't always go by. She came in and played with the kids and talked to me and my man when he was home. She seemed to like it, and to like us. She didn't know, I suspect, that her kind of folks didn't generally call on my kind. Maybe if they did call more, Miss Harrington, there wouldn't be so many of my kind, she added, with sudden bitterness. Be that as it may, she came, and she didn't do herself no harm. And she did do us good, a lot of good. How much she won't know, nor can't know, I hope, because if she did, she'd know other things that I don't want her to know. But it's just this. It's been hard times with us this year in more ways than one. We've been blue and discouraged, my man and me, and ready for most anything. We was reckoning on getting a divorce about now and letting the kids, well, we didn't know what we would do with the kids. Then came the accident and what we heard about the little girls never walking again. And we got to thinking how she used to come and sit on our doorstep and train with the kids, and laugh, and just be glad. She was always being glad about something. And then one day she told us why, and about the game, you know, and tried to coax us to play it. Well, we've heard now that she's fretting her poor little life out of her, because she can't play it no more, that there's nothing to be glad about. And that's what I came to tell her today, that maybe she can be a little glad for us, because we've decided to stick to each other and play the game ourselves. I knew she would be glad because she used to feel kind of bad at things we said sometimes. Just how the game is going to help us, I can't say that I exactly see yet. But maybe twill. Anyhow, we're going to try, because she wanted us to. Will you tell her? Yes, I will tell her promised Miss Polly a little faintly. Then with sudden impulse she stepped forward and held out her hand. And thank you for coming, Mrs. Payson, she said simply. The defiant chin fell, the lips above it trembled visibly. With an incoherently mumbled something, Mrs. Payson, blindly clutched at the outstretched hand, turned, and fled. The door had scarcely closed behind her before Miss Polly was confronting Nancy in the kitchen. Nancy! Miss Polly spoke sharply. The series of puzzling, disconcerting visits of the last few days, culminating as they had in the extraordinary experience of the afternoon, had strained her nerves to the snapping point. Not since Miss Polly Anna's accident had Nancy heard her mistress speak so sternly. Nancy! Will you tell me what this absurd game is that the whole town seems to be babbling about? And what pleas has my niece to do with it? Why does everybody, from Millie Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her that they're playing it? As near as I can judge half the town are putting on blue ribbons or stopping family quarrels or learning to like something they never liked before, and all because of Polly Anna. I tried to ask the child herself about it, but I can't seem to make much headway, and of course I don't like to worry her now. But from something I heard her say to you last night, I should judge you were one of them, too. Now will you tell me what it all means? To Miss Polly's surprise and dismay Nancy burst into tears. It means that ever since last June that blessed child has just been making the whole town glad, and now they're turning round and trying to make her a little glad, too. Glad of what? Just glad that's the game. Miss Polly actually stamped her foot. Where you go like all the rest, Nancy, what game? Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked her squarely in the eye. I'll tell you, ma'am, it's a game Miss Polly Anna's father learned her to play. She got a pair of crutches once in a missionary barrel when she was wanting a doll, and she cried, of course, like any child would. It seemed, twas then, her father told her that there wasn't ever anything but what there was something about it that you could be glad about, and that she could be glad about them crutches. Glad for crutches? Miss Polly choked back a sob. She was thinking of the helpless little legs on the bed upstairs. Yes, them, that's what I said. And Miss Polly Anna said that's what she said, too. But he told her that she could be glad because she didn't need them. Oh! cried Miss Polly. And after that she said he made a regular game of it, finding something in everything Turbie glad about. And she said you could do it, too, and that you didn't seem to remind not having the doll so much because you was so glad you didn't need the crutches. And they called it the just being glad game. That's the game, ma'am. She's played it ever since. But how? How? Miss Polly came to a helpless pause. And you'd be surprised to find how cute it works, ma'am, too, maintained Nancy, with almost the eagerness of Polly Anna herself. I wish I could tell you what a lot she's done for mother and the folks out home. She's been triseum, you know, twice with me. She made me glad, too, on such a lot of things, little things, and big things, and it made them so much easier. For instance, I don't mind Nancy for a name half as much, since she told me I could be glad twesn't hepsaba. And there's Monday mornings, too, that I used to hate so. She's actually made me glad for Monday mornings. Glad for Monday mornings? Nancy laughed. I know it does sound nutty, ma'am, but let me tell you, that blessed lamb found out I hated Monday mornings something awful. And what does she up and tell me one day but this? Well anyhow, Nancy, I should think you could be gladder on Monday morning than on any other day in the week, because twid be a whole week before you'd have another one. And I'm blessed if I hain't thought of it every Monday morning since. And it has helped, ma'am. It made me laugh anyhow every time I thought of it. And laughin' helps, you know, it does, it does. But why hasn't she told me the game, faltered Miss Polly? Why has she made such a mystery of it when I asked her? Nancy hesitated. Begging your pardon, ma'am, you told her not to speak of her father, so she couldn't tell you, twas her father's game, you see. Miss Polly bit her lip. She wanted to tell you, first off, continue Nancy, a little unsteadily. She wanted somebody to play it with, you know. That's why I begun it, so she would have someone. And these others? Miss Polly's voice shook now. Oh, everybody most knows it now, I guess. Anyhow I should think they did from the way I'm hearing of it everywhere I go. Of course she told a lot, and they told the rest. Some things go, you know, when they get started. And she was always so smilein' and pleasant to everyone. And so, so just glad herself, all the time, that they couldn't help knowin' it, anyhow. Now since she's hurt, everybody feels so bad, especially when they heard how bad she feels, cause she can't find anything to be glad about. And so they've been comin' every day to tell her how glad she's made them. Help when that'll help some. You see, she's always wanted everybody to play the game with her. Well, I know somebody who'll play it now, joked Miss Polly, as she turned and sped to the kitchen doorway. Behind her Nancy stood staring amazedly. Well, I'll believe anything, anything now, she muttered to herself. You can't stump me with anything. I wouldn't believe now of Miss Polly. A little later, in Pollyanna's room, the nurse left Miss Polly and Pollyanna alone together. And you've had still another caller today, my dear, announced Miss Polly, in a voice she vainly tried to study. Do you remember Mrs. Payson? Mrs. Payson? Well, I reckon I do. And she's got the prettiest little girl baby three years old, and a boy most five. She's awfully nice, and so's her husband. Only they don't seem to know how nice each other is. Sometimes they fight. I mean, they don't quite agree. They're poor, too, they say. And of course, they don't ever have barrels, because he isn't a missionary minister, you know, like, well, he isn't. A faint color stole in Pollyanna's cheeks, which was duplicated suddenly in those of her aunt. But she wears real pretty clothes sometimes, in spite of their being so poor, resumed Pollyanna, in some haste. And she's got perfectly beautiful rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in them. But she says she's got one ring too many, and that she's going to throw it away and get a divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? I'm afraid it isn't very nice, because she didn't look happy when she talked about it. And she said, if she did get it, they wouldn't live there any more. And that Mr. Payson would go way off. And maybe the children, too. But I should think they'd rather keep the ring, even if they did have so many more. Shouldn't you, Aunt Polly? What is a divorce? But they aren't going way off, dear, evaded Aunt Polly hurriedly. They're going to stay right there together. Oh, I'm so glad! Then they'll be there when I go up to see— Oh, dear, broke off the little girl miserably. Aunt Polly, why can't I remember that my legs don't go anymore, and that I won't ever, ever go up to see Mr. Pendleton again? There, there, don't, choked her aunt. Perhaps she'll drive up some time. But listen, I haven't told you yet all that Mrs. Payson said. She wanted me to tell you that they were going to stay together and to play the game, just as you wanted them to. Polly Anna smiled through tear-wet eyes. Did they? Did they really? Oh, I am glad of that. Yes, she said she'd hoped you'd be. That's why she told you to make you glad, Polly Anna. Polly Anna looked up quickly. Why, Aunt Polly, you spoke just as if you knew. Do you know about the game, Aunt Polly? Yes, dear, Miss Polly sternly forced her voice to be cheerfully matter of fact. Nancy told me, I think it's a beautiful game. I'm going to play it now with you. Oh, Aunt Polly, you? I'm so glad. You see, I've really wanted you, most of anybody, all the time. Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It was even harder this time to keep her voice steady, but she did it. Yes, dear, and there are all those others, too. Why, Polly Anna, I think all the town is playing that game now with you, even to the minister. I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but this morning I met Mr. Ford when I was down to the village, and he told me to say to you that just as soon as you could see him, he was coming to tell you that he hadn't stopped being glad over those eight hundred rejoicing texts that you told him about. So you see, dear, it's just you that have done it. The whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happier, and all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game in how to play it. Polly Anna clapped her hands. Oh, I'm so glad, she cried. Then suddenly a wonderful light illumined her face. Why, Aunt Polly, there is something I can be glad about after all. I can be glad I've had my legs, anyway, else I couldn't have done that. CHAPTER XXIX of Polly Anna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Anderson. Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter XXIX through an open window. One by one the short winter days came and went, but they were not short to Polly Anna. They were long and sometimes full of pain. Very resolutely these days, however, Polly Anna was turning a cheerful face toward whatever came. Was she not specially bound to play the game, now that Aunt Polly was playing it, too? And Aunt Polly found so many things to be glad about. It was Aunt Polly, too, who discovered the story one day about the two poor little waves in a snowstorm, who found a blown-down door to crawl under, and who wondered what poor folks did that didn't have any door. And it was Aunt Polly who brought home the other story that she had heard about, the poor old lady who had only two teeth, but who was so glad that those two teeth hit. Polly Anna now, like Mrs. Snow, was knitting wonderful things out of bright-colored worsteds that trailed their cheery legs across the white spread, and made Polly Anna, again like Mrs. Snow, so glad she had her hands and arms anyway. Anna saw people now occasionally, and always there were the loving messages from those she could not see, and always they brought her something new to think about, and Polly Anna needed new things to think about. Once she had seen John Pendleton, and twice she had seen Jimmy Bean. John Pendleton had told her what a fine boy Jimmy was getting to be, and how well he was doing. Jimmy had told her what a first-rate home he had, and what bang-up folks Mr. Pendleton made, and both had said that it was all owing to her. Which makes me all the glatter you know that I have had my legs Polly Anna confided to her aunt afterwards. The winter past and spring came. The anxious watchers over Polly Anna's condition could see little change-rot by the prescribed treatment. There seemed every reason to believe, indeed, that Dr. Meade's worst fears would be realized that Polly Anna would never walk again. Beldingsville, of course, kept itself informed concerning Polly Anna, and of Beldingsville one man in particular fumed and fretted himself into a fever of anxiety over the daily bulletins which he managed in some way to procure from the bed of suffering. As the days passed, however, and the news came to be no better, but rather worse, something besides anxiety began to show in the man's face, despair, and a very dogged determination each fighting for mastery. In the end the dogged determination won, and it was then that Mr. John Pendleton, somewhat to his surprise, received one Saturday morning a call from Dr. Thomas Chilton. Pendleton began the doctor abruptly, I've come to you because, better than anyone else in town, you know something of my relations with Miss Polly Harrington. John Pendleton was conscious that he must have started visibly. He did know something of the affair between Polly Harrington and Thomas Chilton, but the matter had not been mentioned between them for fifteen years or more. Thus he said, trying to make his voice sound concerned enough for sympathy and not eager enough for curiosity. In a moment he saw that he need not have worried, however, the doctor was quite too intent on his errand to notice how that errand was received. Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I must make an examination. Well, can't you? Can't I? You know very well I haven't been inside that door for more than fifteen years. You don't know, but I will tell you, that the mistress of that house told me, that the next time she asked me to enter it, I might take it that she was begging my pardon, and that all would be as before, which meant that she'd marry me. Perhaps you see her summoning me now, but I don't. But couldn't you go without a summons? The doctor frowned, well, hardly. I have some pride, you know. But if you're so anxious, couldn't you swallow your pride and forget the quarrel? Forget the quarrel, interrupted the doctor savagely. I'm not talking of that kind of pride. So far as that is concerned, I'd go from here, there on my knees, or on my head, if that would do any good. It's professional pride I'm talking about. It's a case of sickness, and I'm a doctor. I can't butt in and say, here, take me, can I? Chilton, what was the quarrel, demanded Pendleton. The doctor made an impatient gesture and got to his feet. What was it? What's any lover's quarrel after it's over, he snarled, pacing the room angrily. A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or the depth of a river, maybe? It might as well be, so far as it's having any real significance, compared to the years of misery that follow them. Never mind the quarrel. So far as I'm concerned I'm willing to say there was no quarrel, Pendleton. I must see that child. It may mean life or death. It will mean, I honestly believe, nine chances out of ten that Pollyanna Whittier will walk again. The words were spoken clearly, impressively. And they were spoken just as the one who uttered them had almost reached the open window near John Pendleton's chair. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached the ears of a small boy, kneeling beneath the window on the ground outside. Jimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of pulling up the first little green weeds of the flower beds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open. Walk! Pollyanna? John Pendleton was saying, What do you mean? I mean that from what I can hear and learn, a mile from her bedside, that her case is very much like one that a college friend of mine has just helped. For years he's been making this sort of thing a special study. I've kept in touch with him and studied, too, in a way, and from what I hear, but I want to see the girl. John Pendleton came erect in his chair. You must see her, man! Couldn't you say, through Dr. Warren? The other shook his head. I'm afraid not. Warren has been very decent, though. He told me himself that he suggested consultation with me at the first. But Miss Harrington said no so decisively that he didn't dare venture it again, even though he knew of my desire to see the child. Lately some of his best patients have come over to me, so, of course, that ties my hands still more effectually. But Pendleton, I've got to see that child. Think of what it may mean to her, if I do. Yes, and think of what it will mean if you don't, retorted Pendleton. But how can I, without a direct request from her aunt, which I'll never get? She must be made to ask you. How? I don't know. No, I guess you don't, nor anybody else. She's too proud and too angry to ask me. After what she said years ago, it would mean if she did ask me. But when I think of that child doomed to lifelong misery, and when I think that maybe in my hands lies a chance of escape, but for that confounded nonsense we call pride and professional etiquette, I—he did not finish his sentence, but with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room again, angrily. But if she could be made to see, to understand, urged John Pendleton, yes, and who's going to do it, demanded the doctor, with the savage turn? I don't know. I don't know, groaned the other miserably. Inside the window Jimmy Bean stirred suddenly. Up to now he had scarcely breathed, so intently had he listened to every word. Well by jinx I know, he whispered exultingly, I'm a going to do it. And forthwith he rose to his feet, crept stealthily across the corner of the house, and ran with all his might down Pendleton Hill. CHAPTER 30 Jimmy takes the helm It's Jimmy Bean, he wants to see you, ma'am, and mounts Nancy in the doorway. Me rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. Are you sure he did not mean Miss Pollyanna? He may see her a few minutes today if he likes. Yes, him I told him, but he said it was you he wanted. Very well, I'll come down. And Miss Polly arose from her chair a little wearily. In the sitting-room she found waiting for her a round-eyed, flesh-faced boy who began to speak at once. Ma'am, I suppose it's dreadful what I'm doing, and what I'm saying, but I can't help it. It's for Pollyanna, and I'd walk over hot coals for her, or face you, or, or anything like that any time. And I think you would, too, if you thought there was a chance for her to walk again. And so that's why I come to tell you, that as long as it's only pride and et, et something, that's keeping Pollyanna from walking, why I knew you would ask Dr. Chilton here if you understood. What? interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face changing to one of angry indignation. Jimmy sighed despairingly. There, I didn't mean to make you mad. That's why I begun by telling you about her walking again. I thought you'd listened to that. Jimmy, what are you talking about? Jimmy sighed again. There, that's what I'm trying to tell ye. Well then tell me, but begin at the beginning and be sure I understand each thing as you go. Don't plunge into the middle of it, as you did before, and mix everything all up. Jimmy wet his lips determinedly. Well, to begin with Dr. Chilton come to see Mr. Pendleton, and they talked in the library. Do ye understand that? Yes, Jimmy, Miss Polly's voice was rather faint. Well, the window was open and I was weeding the flowerbed under it, and I heard him talk. Oh, Jimmy, listening? Twint about me, and Twint sneak listening, bridled Jimmy, and I'm glad I listened. You will be, when I tell ye, why it may make Polly on a walk. Jimmy, what do you mean Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly? There, I told ye so, not at Jimmy contentedly. Well, Dr. Chilton knows some doctor somewhere that can cure Polly Anna, he thinks. Make her walk, ye know. But he can't tell sure till he sees her, and he wants to see her something awful. But he told Mr. Pendleton that ye wouldn't let him. Miss Polly's face turned very red. But Jimmy, I can't, I couldn't. That is, I didn't know. Miss Polly was twisting her fingers together helplessly. Yes, and that's what I came to tell ye, so you would know, asserted Jimmy eagerly. They said that for some reason, I didn't rightly catch what, you wouldn't let Dr. Chilton come. And you told Dr. Warren so. And Dr. Chilton couldn't come himself without you asked him on account of pride and professional at, at, well, at something anyway. And they was wishing somebody could make you understand. Only they didn't know who could. And I was outside the window. And I says to myself right away, by jinx I'll do it. And I come. And have I made ye understand? Yes, but Jimmy, about that doctor, implored Miss Polly feverishly. Who was he? What did he do? Are they sure he could make Polly Anna walk? I don't know who he was. They didn't say. Dr. Chilton knows him. And he's just cured somebody just like her. Dr. Chilton thinks. Anyhow, they didn't seem to be doing no worrying about him. Twas you, they was worrying about. Because you wouldn't let Dr. Chilton see her. And say, you will let him come, won't you? Now you understand? Miss Polly turned her head from side to side. Her breath was coming in little uneven rapid gasps. Jimmy, watching her with anxious eyes, thought she was going to cry. But she did not cry. After a minute she said brokenly, Yes, I'll let Dr. Chilton see her. Now run home, Jimmy, quick. I've got to speak to Dr. Warren. He's upstairs now. I saw him drive in a few minutes ago. A little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet an agitated, flesh-faced Miss Polly in the hall. He was still more surprised to hear the ladies say a little breathlessly. Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. Chilton to be called in consultation. And I refused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very much desire that you should call in Dr. Chilton. Will you not ask him at once, please? Thank you. CHAPTER 31 A NEW UNCLE The next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber where Polly Anna lay, Watching the dancing shimmer of color on the ceiling, A tall, broad-shouldered man followed close behind him. Dr. Chilton! Oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am to see you! cried Polly Anna, and at the joyous rapture of the voice, More than one pair of eyes in the room brimmed hot with sudden tears. But of course, if Aunt Polly doesn't want! It's all right, my dear, don't worry, soothed Miss Polly agitatedly, hurrying forward. I have told Dr. Chilton that, that I want him to look you over with Dr. Warren this morning. Oh! then you asked him to come, murmured Polly Anna, contentedly. Yes, dear, I asked him. That is. But it was too late. The adoring happiness that had leaped Dr. Chilton's eyes was unmistakable, and Miss Polly had seen it. With very pink cheeks she turned and left the room hurriedly. Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr. Chilton held out both hands to Polly Anna. Little girl I'm thinking that one of the very gladdest jobs you ever did has been done today, he said, in a voice shaken with emotion. At twilight a wonderfully tremulous, wonderfully different Aunt Polly crept to Polly Anna's bedside. The nurse was at supper. They had the room to themselves. Polly Anna, dear, I'm going to tell you the very first one of all. Someday I'm going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your uncle, and it's you that have done it all. Oh, Polly Anna, I'm so happy, and so glad, darling. Polly Anna began to clap her hands. But even as she brought her small palms together the first time, she stopped and held them suspended. Aunt Polly! Aunt Polly! Were you the woman's hand and heart he wanted so long ago? You were. I know you were. And that's what he meant by saying I'd done the gladdest job of all today. I'm so glad. Why, Aunt Polly, I don't know, but I'm so glad that I don't mind, even my legs now. Aunt Polly swallowed a sob. Perhaps some day, dear. But Aunt Polly did not finish. Aunt Polly did not dare to tell yet the great hope that Dr. Chilton had put into her heart. But she did say this. And surely this was quite wonderful enough to Polly Anna's mind. Polly Anna, next week you're going to take a journey. On a nice comfortable little bed you're going to be carried in cars and carriages to a great doctor, who has a big house many miles from here, made on purpose for just such people as you are. He's a dear friend of Dr. Chilton's, and we're going to see what he can do for you. CHAPTER 32 Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom. Oh, I can. I can. I can walk. I did today all the way from my bed to the window. It was six steps. My how good it was to be on legs again. All the doctors stood around and smiled. And all the nurses stood beside of them and cried. A lady in the next ward, who walked last week first, peeked into the door. And another one, who hoped she can walk next month, was invited into the party. And she laid on my nurse's bed and clapped her hands. Even Black Tilly, who washes a floor, looked through the Piazza window and called me Honeychild, when she wasn't crying too much to call me anything. I don't see why they cried. I wanted to sing and shout and yell. Oh, oh, oh, just think. I can walk. Walk. Walk. Now I don't mind being here almost 10 months. And I didn't miss the wedding, anyhow. Wasn't that just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get married right beside my bed, so I could see you? You always do think of the gladdest things. Pretty soon they say I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way there. I do. I don't think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It will be so good just to walk. Oh, I'm so glad. I'm glad for everything. Why, I'm glad now I lost my legs for a while. For you never, never know how perfectly lovely legs are till you haven't got them. That go, I mean. I'm going to walk eight steps tomorrow. With heaps of love to everybody, Polly Anna. End of chapter 32. End of the book, Polly Anna.