 Chapter 1 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 The Story Girl. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 1 Miss Polly. Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements. She specially prided herself on her repose of manner. But today she was hurrying. Actually hurrying. Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise. Nancy had been working in Miss Polly's kitchen only two months. But already she knew that her mistress did not usually hurry. Nancy? Yes, ma'am. Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued wiping the pitcher in her hand. Nancy, Miss Polly's voice was very stern now. When I'm talking to you, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I have to say. Nancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher down at once, with the cloth still about it, thereby nearly tipping it over, which did not add to her composure. Yes, ma'am, I will, ma'am, she stammered, writing the pitcher and turning hastily. I was only keeping on with my work, because you specially told me this morning to hurry with my dishes, you know. Her mistress frowned. That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your attention. Yes, ma'am. Nancy stifled a sigh. She was wondering if ever in any way she could please this woman. Nancy had never worked out before. But a sick mother suddenly widowed and left with three younger children, besides Nancy herself, had forced the girl into doing something toward their support. And she had been so pleased when she found a place in the kitchen of the Great House on the hill. Nancy had come from the corners, six miles away. And she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as the mistress of the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest residents of the town. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly now as a stern, severe-faced woman who frowned of a knife clattered to the floor, or if a door banged. But who never thought to smile even when knives and doors were still. When you finished your morning work, Nancy, Miss Polly was saying now, You may clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the attic, and make up the cockpit. Sweep the room and clean it, of course, after you clear out the trunks and boxes. Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out? In the front attic. Miss Polly hesitated, then went on. I suppose I may as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Polly Anna Whittier, is coming to live with me. She is eleven years old and will sleep in that room. A little girl. Coming here, Miss Harrington. Oh, won't that be nice? Cried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made in the home at the corners. Nice? Well, that isn't exactly the word I should use, rejoined Miss Polly stiffly. However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I'm a good woman, I hope, and I know my duty. Nancy colored hotly. Of course, ma'am. It was only that I thought a little girl here might, might brighten things up for you. She faltered. Thank you, rejoined the lady dryly. I can't say, however, that I see any immediate need for that. But, of course, you'd want her, your sister's child. Ventured Nancy, vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a welcome for this lonely little stranger. Miss Polly lifted her chin hotly. Well, really, Nancy. Just because I happened to have a sister who was silly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that was already quite full enough, I can't see how I should particularly want to have the care of them myself. However, as I said before, I hope I know my duty. See that you clean the corners, Nancy. She finished sharply as she left the room. Yes, ma'am, sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher. Now so cold must be rinsed again. In her own room, Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had received two days before, from the far away western town, and which had been so unpleasant a surprise to her. The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont, and it read as follows. Dear madam, I regret to inform you that the Reverend John Whittier died two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl, eleven years old. He left practically nothing else save a few books, for as you doubtless know, he was the pastor of this small mission church, and had a very meager salary. I believe he was your deceased sister's husband, but he gave me to understand the families were not on the best of terms. He thought, however, that for your sister's sake, you might wish to take the child and bring her up among her own people in the east. Hence, I'm writing to you. The little girl will be all ready to start by the time you get this letter, and if you can take her, we would appreciate it very much if you would write that she might come at once. Because there is a man and his wife here who are going east very soon, and they would take her with them to Boston and put her on the Beldingsville train. Of course you would be notified what day in train to expect Pollyanna on. Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I remain respectfully yours, Jeremiah O. White. With a frown, Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. She had answered it the day before, and she had said she would take the child, of course. She hoped she knew her duty well enough for that, disagreeable as the task would be. As she sat now with the letter in her hands, her thoughts went back to her sister, Jenny, who had been this child's mother. And at the time when Jenny, as a girl of twenty, had insisted upon marrying the young minister in spite of her family's remonstrances. There had been a man of wealth who had wanted her, and the family had much preferred him to the minister, but Jenny had not. The man of wealth had more years as well as more money to his credit, while the minister had only a young head full of youth's ideals and enthusiasm and a heart full of love. Jenny had preferred these, quite naturally, perhaps, so she had married the minister, and had gone south with him as a home missionary's wife. The break had come then. Miss Polly remembered it well, though she had been but a girl of fifteen, the youngest at the time. The family had had little more to do with the missionary's wife. To be sure, Jenny herself had ridden for a time and had named her last baby Polly Anna for her two sisters, Polly and Anna. The other babies had all died. This had been the last time that Jenny had ridden, and in a few years there had come the news of her death, told in a short but heartbroken little note from the minister himself, dated at a little town in the west. Meanwhile, time had not stood still for the occupants of the great house on the hill. Miss Polly, looking out at the far-reaching valley below, thought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her. She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. Father, mother, sisters, all were dead. For years now she had been so mistress of the house and of the thousands left her by her father. There were people who had openly pitied her lonely life and who had urged her to have some friend or companion to live with her, but she had not welcomed either their sympathy or their advice. She was not lonely, she said. She liked being by herself. She preferred quiet. But now Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely shut lips. She was glad, of course, that she was a good woman and that she not only knew her duty but had sufficient strength of character to perform it. But Polly Anna. What a ridiculous name. End of Chapter 1, Recording by the Story Girl Chapter 2 of Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the Story Girl Chapter 2, Old Tom and Nancy In the little attic room, Nancy swept and scrubbed vigorously, paying particular attention to the corners. There were times, indeed, when the vigor she put into her work was more of a relief to her feelings than it was an ardor to efface dirt. Nancy, in spite of her frightened submission to her mistress, was no saint. I just wish I could dig out the corners of her soul, she muttered jerkily, punctuating her words with murderous jabs of her pointed cleaning stick. There's plenty of them needs cleaning all right, all right. The idea of sticking that blessed child way off up here in this hot little room with no fire in the winter too and all this big house to pick and choose from. Unnecessary children indeed. Snapped Nancy, ringing her rags so hard her fingers ached from the strain. I guess it ain't children what is most unnecessary just now, just now. For some time she worked in silence. Then her task finished, she looked about the bare little room in plain disgust. Well, it's done. My part anyhow, she sighed. There ain't no dirt here, and there's mighty little else. Poor little soul. A pretty place this is to put a homesick, lonesome child into. She finished, going out and closing the door with a bang. She ejaculated, biting her lip. Then doggedly. Well, I don't care. I hope she did hear the bang. I do, I do. In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to interview old Tom, who had pulled the weeds and shoveled the pads about the place for uncounted years. Mr. Tom began Nancy, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved. Did you know a little girl was coming here to live with Miss Polly? Uh, what? Demanded the old man, straightening his bent back with difficulty. A little girl to live with Miss Polly. Go on with your joking. Scoffed unbelieving Tom. Why don't you tell me the sun is going to set in the east tomorrow? But it's true. She told me so herself, maintained Nancy. It's her niece, and she's eleven years old. The man's jaw fell. Sure. I wonder now, he muttered. Then a tender light came into his faded eyes. It ain't. But it must be. Miss Jenny's little gal. There weren't none of the rest of them married. Why, Nancy, it must be Miss Jenny's little gal. Glory be to praise to think of my old eyes seeing this. Who is Miss Jenny? She was an angel, straight out of heaven. Breathe the man fervently. But the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter. She was twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her babies all died, I heard, except the last one. And that must be the one that's coming. She's eleven years old. Yes, she might be, nodded the old man. And she's going to sleep in the attic. More shame to her, scolded Nancy with another glance over her shoulder toward the house behind her. Old Tom frowned. The next moment a curious smile curved his lips. I'm a wondering what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house, he said. Well, I'm a wondering what a child will do with Miss Polly in the house, snapped Nancy. The old man laughed. I'm afraid you ain't fond of Miss Polly, he grinned. As if ever anybody could be fond of her, scorned Nancy. Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began to work again. I guess maybe you didn't know about Miss Polly's love affair, he said slowly. Love affair? Her? No. And I guess nobody else didn't either. Oh yes, they did, nodded the old man. Tellers live in today, right in this town too. Who is he? I ain't a tellin' that, it ain't fit that I should. The old man drew himself erect. In his dim blue eyes as he faced the house, there was the loyal servant's honest pride in the family he has served and loved for long years. But it don't seem possible. Her and a lover still maintained Nancy. Old Tom shook his head. You didn't know Miss Polly as I did, he argued. She used to be real handsome, and she would be now if she'd let herself be. Handsome? Miss Polly? Yes, if she'd just let that tight hair of her and all out loose and careless like as it used to be, and wear the sort of bonnets with posies in them, and the kind of dresses all lace and white things. You'd see if she'd be handsome. Miss Polly ain't old, Nancy. Ain't she though? Well then she's got an awfully good imitation of it, she has, she has. Sniffed Nancy. Yes, I know. It begun then, at the time of the trouble with her lover. Not at old Tom. And it seems as if she'd been feeding on warm wood and thistles ever since. She's that bitter and prickly to deal with. I should say she was, declared Nancy indignantly. There's no please in her, no how, no matter how you try. I wouldn't stay if it went for the wages and the folks at home was needing them. But someday, someday I shall just boil over, and when I do, of course it'll be goodbye Nancy for me, it will, it will. Old Tom shook his head. I know, I've felt it. It's natural. But taint best child, taint best. Take my word for it, taint best. And again, he bent his old head to the work before him. Nancy? Called a sharp voice. Yes ma'am. Stammered Nancy and hurried toward the house. End of chapter two, recording by the Story Girl. Chapter three of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the Story Girl. Chapter three, the coming of Pollyanna. In due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive in Beldingsville the next day, the 25th of June at four o'clock. Miss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the attic room. She still frowned as she looked about her. The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight backed chairs, a wash stand, a bureau, without any mirror, and a small table. There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and down, up and down trying to get out. Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window, raising the sash an inch for the purpose, straightened a chair, frowned again, and left the room. Nancy, she said a few minutes later at the kitchen door. I found a fly upstairs in Miss Pollyanna's room. The window must have been raised at some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall expect you to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive tomorrow at four o'clock. I desire you to meet her at the station. Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says, light hair, red checked gingham dress and straw hat. That is all I know, but I think it is sufficient for your purpose. Yes, ma'am, but you... Miss Polly evidently read the paws a right, for she frowned and said crisply, No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is all. And she turned away. Miss Polly's arrangements for the comfort of her niece, Pollyanna, were complete. In the kitchen Nancy sent her flat iron with a vicious dig across the dish-towel she was ironing. Light hair, red checked gingham dress and straw hat. All she knows, indeed. I'd be ashamed to own it up, that I would, I would. And her, my onlyest niece, what was it coming from way across the continent? Promptly at twenty minutes before the next afternoon, Timothy and Nancy drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was old Tom's son. It was sometimes said in the town that if old Tom was Miss Polly's right-hand man, Timothy was her left. Timothy was a good-natured youth and a good-looking one as well. Short as had been Nancy's stay at the house, the two were already good friends. Today, however, Nancy was too full of her mission to be her usual talkative self, and almost in silence she took the drive to the station and alighted to wait for the train. Over and over in her mind she was saying it, light hair, red checked dress, straw hat. Over and over again she was wondering just what sort of child this Pollyanna was, anyway. I hope for her sake she's quiet and sensible and don't drop knives nor bang doors. She sighed to Timothy, who had sauntered up to her. Well, if she ain't, nobody knows what'll become of the rest of us. Grin Timothy. Imagine Miss Polly and a noisy kid. Gory, there goes the whistle now. Oh, Timothy, I... I think it was me to send me. Chattered the suddenly frightened Nancy as she turned in hurry to a point where she could best watch the passengers alight at the little station. It was not long before Nancy saw her, the slender little girl and the red checked gingham with two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her back. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled little face turned to the right and to the left, plainly searching for someone. Nancy knew the child at once, but not for some time could she control her shaking knees sufficiently to go to her. The little girl was standing quite by herself when Nancy finally did approach her. Are you Miss Pollyanna? She faltered. The next moment she found herself half smothered in the clasp of two gingham clad arms. Oh, I'm so glad! Glad, glad to see you! cried an eager voice in her ear. Of course I'm Pollyanna and I'm so glad you came to meet me. I hoped you would. You... you did? stammered Nancy, vaguely wondering how Pollyanna could possibly have known her and wanted her. You... you did? she repeated, trying to straighten her hat. Oh yes, and I've been wondering all the way here what you looked like. cried the little girl, dancing on her toes and sweeping the embarrassed Nancy from head to foot with her eyes. And now I know, and I'm glad you look just like you do. Nancy was relieved just then to have Timothy come up. Pollyanna's words have been most confusing. This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk? she stammered. Yes, I have, nodded Pollyanna importantly. I've got a brand new one. The Lady's Aid bought it for me, and wasn't it lovely of them when they wanted the carpet so. Of course I don't know how much red carpet a trunk could buy, but it ought to buy some anyhow. Much as half an aisle, don't you think? I've got a little thing here in my bag that Mr. Gray said was a check, and that I must give it to you before I could get my trunk. Mr. Gray is Mrs. Gray's husband. They're cousins of Deacon Carr's wife. I came east with them, and they're lovely. And there, here it is. She finished, producing the check after much fumbling in the bag she carried. Nancy took a long breath. Instinctively, she felt that someone had to draw one after that speech. Then she stole a glance at Timothy. Timothy's eyes were studiously turned away. The three were off at last, with Pollyanna's trunk in behind, and Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy. During the whole process of getting started, the little girl had kept up an uninterrupted stream of comments and questions, until the somewhat dazed Nancy found herself quite out of breath trying to keep up with her. There! Isn't this lovely? Is it far? I hope, Tiz, I love to ride, sighed Pollyanna, as the wheels began to turn. Of course, if it isn't far, I shan't mind, though, because I'll be glad to get there all the sooner, you know. What a pretty street! I knew Tiz was going to be pretty. Father told me. She stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy, looking at her apprehensively, saw that her small chin was quivering, and that her eyes were full of tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with a brave lifting of her head. Father told me all about it. He remembered. And I ought to have explained before. Mrs. Gray told me too, at once, about this red gingham dress, you know, and why I'm not in black. She said you'd think twist queer, but there were any black things in the last missionary barrel, only a lady's velvet mask, which Deacon Carr's wife said wasn't suitable for me at all. Besides, it had white spots. Worn, you know, on both elbows, and some other places. Part of the ladies they'd wanted to buy me a black dress and hat, but the other part thought the money ought to go toward the red carpet they're trying to get. For the church, you know. Mrs. White said maybe it was just as well anyway, for she didn't like children in black. That is, I mean, she liked the children, of course, but not the black part. Pollyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed to stammer. Well, I'm sure it'll be all right. I'm glad you feel that way. I do too. Noted Pollyanna, again with that choking little breath. Of course, it would have been a good deal harder to be glad in black. Glad? Gasp Nancy, surprised into an interruption. Yes, that Father has gone to heaven to be with Mother and the rest of us, you know. He said I must be glad, but it's been pretty hard to do it, even in Red Kingdom, because I wanted him so. And I couldn't help feeling I ought to have him, especially as Mother and the rest have God and all the angels. Well, I didn't have anybody but the lady's aid. But now I'm sure it'll be easier because I've got you Aunt Polly. I'm so glad I've got you. Nancy's aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her turned suddenly into shock terror. Oh, but, but you've made an awful mistake, dear, she faltered. I'm only Nancy. I ain't your Aunt Polly at all. You, you aren't? stammered the little girl in plain dismay. No, I'm only Nancy. I never thought if you're taking me for her, we, we ain't a bit alike, we ain't, we ain't. Timothy chuckled softly, but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the merry flash from his eyes. But who are you? questioned Pollyanna. You don't look a bit like a lady's aider. Timothy laughed outright this time. I'm Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washin' and hard ironin'. Miss Durgin does that. But there isn't Aunt Polly, demanded the child anxiously. You bet your life there is, cut in Timothy. Pollyanna relaxed visibly. Oh, that's all right then. There was a moment's silence, then she went on brightly. And do you know, I'm glad after all that she didn't come to meet me, because now I've got her still coming, and I've got you besides. Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile. I called out a pretty slick compliment, he said. Why don't you thank the little lady? I was thinking about Miss Polly, faltered Nancy. Pollyanna sighed contentedly. I was too. I'm so interested in her, you know she's all the aunt I've got, and I didn't know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me, he said she lived in a lovely great big house, way on top of a hill. She does. You can see it now, said Nancy. It's that big white one with the green blinds way ahead. Oh how pretty. And what a lot of trees and grass all around it. I never saw such a lot of green grass seem so all at once. Is my Aunt Polly rich Nancy? Yes Miss. I'm so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. I never knew anyone that did have only the whites. They're some rich. They have carpets in every room and ice cream sundaes. Does Aunt Polly have ice cream sundaes? Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into Timothy's eyes. No Miss. Your Aunt don't like ice cream I guess. Least ways I never saw it on her table. Polly and his face fell. Oh doesn't she? I'm so sorry. I don't see how she can help liking ice cream. But anyhow, I can be kind of glad about that because the ice cream you don't eat can't make your stomach ache like Mrs. White's did. That is I ate hers you know. Lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets though. Yes she's got the carpets. In every room? Well in almost every room. Answered Nancy frowning suddenly at the thought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet. Oh I'm so glad. Exalted Pollyanna. I love carpets. We didn't 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 lion. Not together you know. The lambs and the lion. Oh of course the Bible says they will sometime but they haven't yet. That is I mean Mrs. White's haven't. Don't you just love pictures? I don't know. Answered Nancy in a half stifled voice. I do. We didn't have any pictures. They don't come in the barrels much you know. We did too 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. Glass. It broke you know. And I cried. But I'm glad now we didn't have any of those nice things cause I shall like Aunt Polly's all the better. Not being used to them you see. It is when the pretty hair ribbons come in the barrels after a lot of faded out brown ones. My but isn't this a perfectly beautiful house. 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. Don't you never say nothing to me again about leaving Timothy Durgin. You couldn't hire me to leave. Leave. I should say not. Grinned the youth. You couldn't drag me away. It'll be more fun here now with that kid round than moving picture shows every day. Fun. Fun. She needed Nancy indignantly. I guess it'll be something more than fun for that blessed child when them two tries to live together. And I guess she'll be in need in some rock to fly to for refuge. Well I'm going to be that rock Timothy. I am I am. She vowed as she turned and led Polly Anna up the broad steps. End of chapter three. Recording by the story girl. Chapter four of Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter. This sleep revox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the story girl. Chapter four. The little attic room. Miss 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 duty written large on every coldly extended finger. How do you do Polly Anna. I she had no chance to say more. Polly Anna had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into her aunt's scandalized unyielding lap. I went Polly and Polly I don't know how to be glad enough that you let me come to live with you. She was sobbing. You don't know how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after you've had just the ladies aid. Very likely though I've not had the pleasure of the ladies aids acquaintance rejoined Miss Polly stiffly trying to unclasp the small clinging fingers and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in the doorway. Nancy that will do you may go Polly Anna be good enough please to stand erect in a proper manner. I don't know yet what you look like. Polly Anna drew back at once laughing a little hysterically. No I suppose you don't but you see I'm not very much to look at anyway on account of the freckles. Oh and I ought to explain about the red gingham and the black velvet basket with white spots on the elbows. I told Nancy how father said yes we'll never mind now what your father said. Interrupted Miss Polly crisply. You had a trunk I presume. Oh yes indeed Aunt Polly I've got a beautiful trunk that the ladies aid gave me. I haven't got so very much in it of my own I mean the barrels haven't had many clothes for little girls in them lately but there were all father's books and Mrs. White said she thought I ought to have those. You see father Polly Anna interrupted her aunt again sharply. There is one thing that might just as well be understood right away at once and that is I do not care to have you keep talking of your father to me. The little girl drew in her breath tremulously. Wait Aunt Polly you you mean she hesitated and her aunt filled the pause. We will go upstairs to your room. Your trunk is already there I presume. I told Timothy to take it up if you had one. You may follow me Polly Anna. Without speaking Polly Anna turned and followed her aunt from the room. Her eyes were brimming with tears but her chin was bravely high. After all I I reckon I'm glad she doesn't want me to talk about father. Polly Anna was thinking. It'll be easier maybe if I don't talk about him. Probably any how that is why she told me not to talk about him and Polly Anna convinced a new of her aunt's kindness blinked off the tears and looked eagerly about her. She was on the stairway now. Just ahead her aunt's black silk skirt rustled luxuriously. Behind her an open door allowed a glimpse of soft tinted rugs and sat and covered chairs. Beneath her feet a marvelous carpet was like green moss to the tread. On every side the guilt of picture frames or the glint of sunlight through the filmy mesh of lace curtains flashed in her eyes. Oh Aunt Polly Aunt Polly breathed the little girl rapturously. What a perfectly lovely lovely house. How awfully glad you must be you're so rich. Polly Anna ejaculated her and turning sharply about as she reached the head of the stairs. I'm surprised at you making a speech like that to me. Wait Aunt Polly aren't you? queried Polly Anna in frank wonder. Certainly not Polly Anna. I hope I could not so far forget myself as to be sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me. declared the lady. Certainly not of riches. Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairway door. She was glad now that she had put the child in the attic room. Her idea at first had been to get her niece as far away as possible from herself and at the same time place her where her childish heedlessness would not destroy valuable furnishings. Now, with this evident strain of vanity showing thus early, it was all the more fortunate that the room planned for her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly. Eagerly Polly Anna's small feet padded behind her aunt. Still more eagerly her big blue eyes tried to look in all directions at once but nothing of beauty or interest in this wonderful house might be passed unseen. Most eagerly of all her mind turned to the wondrously exciting problem about to be solved. Behind which of all these fascinating doors was waiting now her room, the dear beautiful room full of curtains, rugs and pictures that was to be her very own. Then abruptly her aunt opened a door and ascended another stairway. There was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either side. At the top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led to far corners where the roof came almost down to the floor and where were stacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot and stifling too. Unconsciously Polly Anna lifted her head higher. It seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown open a door at the right. There Polly Anna, here is your room and your trunk is here I see. Have you your key? Polly Anna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened. Her aunt frown. When I ask a question Polly Anna, I prefer that you should answer aloud not merely with your head. Yes, Aunt Polly. Thank you, that is better. I believe you have everything that you need here. She added, glancing at the well-filled towel rack and water pitcher. I will send Nancy up to help you unpack. Supper is at six o'clock. She finished as she left the room and swept downstairs. For a moment after she had gone, Polly Anna stood quite still looking after her. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare floor, the bare windows. She turned them last to the little trunk that had stood not so long before in her own little room in the far away western home. The next moment she stumbled blindly toward it and fell on her knees at its side, covering her face with her hands. Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later. There, there, you poor lamb. She crooned, dropping to the floor and drawing the little girl into her arms. I was just a fear and I'd find you like this, like this. Polly Anna shook her head. But I'm bad and wicked, Nancy. Awful wicked. She sobbed. I just can't make myself understand that God and the angels needed my father more than I did. No more they did, neither, declared Nancy stoutly. Nancy? The burning horror in Polly Anna's eyes dried the tears. Nancy gave a shame-faced smile and rubbed her own eyes vigorously. There, there, child, I didn't mean it, of course. She cried briskly. Come, let's have your key and we'll get inside this trunk and take out your dresses in no time, no time. Somewhat tearfully, Polly Anna produced the key. There aren't very many there anyway, she faltered. Then they're all the sooner unpacked, declared Nancy. Polly Anna gave a sudden radiant smile. That's so! I can be glad of that, can't I? She cried. Nancy stared. Why, of course, she answered a little, uncertainly. Nancy's capable hands made short work of unpacking the books, the patched undergarments, and the few pitifully unattractive dresses. Polly Anna, smiling bravely now, flew about, hanging the dresses in the closet, stacking the books on the table, and putting away the undergarments in the bureau drawers. I'm sure it's going to be a very nice room. Don't you think so? She stammered after a while. There was no answer. Nancy was very busy, apparently, with her head in the trunk. Polly Anna, standing at the bureau, gazed a little wistfully at the bare wall above. And I can be glad there isn't any looking glass here, too, because where there isn't any glass, I can't see my freckles. Nancy made a sudden queer little sound with her mouth, but when Polly Anna turned, her head was in the trunk again. At one of the windows, a few minutes later, Polly Anna gave a glad cry and clapped her hands joyously. Oh, Nancy! I hadn't seen this before! She breathed. Look! Way off there, with those trees and houses, and that lovely church spire and the river shining just like silver. Why, Nancy! There doesn't anybody need any pictures with that to look at. Oh, I'm so glad now she let me have this room. The Polly Anna's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. Polly Anna hurriedly crossed to her side. Why, Nancy! Nancy, what is it? She cried. Then fearfully, this wasn't your room, was it? My room, stormed Nancy hotly, choking back the tears. If you ain't a little angel straight from heaven, then if some folks don't eat dirt before— Oh, Land, there's her bell. After which amazing speech, Nancy sprang to her feet, dashed out of the room, and went clattering down the stairs. Left alone, Polly Anna went back to her picture, as she mentally designated the beautiful view from the window. After a time, she touched the sash tentatively. It seemed as if no longer could she endure the stifling heat. To her joy, the sash moved under her fingers. The next moment, the window was wide open, and Polly Anna was leaning far out, drinking in the fresh, sweet air. She ran then to the other window. That too soon flew up under her eager hands. A big fly swept past her nose, and buzzed noisily about the room. Then another came, and another. But Polly Anna paid no heed. Polly Anna had made a wonderful discovery. Against this window, a huge tree flung great branches. To Polly Anna, they looked like arms outstretched, inviting her. Suddenly, she laughed aloud. I believe I can do it! She chuckled. The next moment, she had climbed nimbly to the window ledge. From there, it was an easy matter to step to the nearest tree branch. Then, clinging like a monkey, she swung herself from limb to limb until the lowest branch was reached. The drop to the ground was, even for Polly Anna, who was used to climbing trees, a little fearsome. She took it, however, with baited breath, swinging from her strong little arms and landing on all fours in the soft grass. Then she picked herself up and looked eagerly about her. She was at the back of the house. Before her lay a garden in which a bent old man was working. Beyond the garden, a little path through an open field led up a steep hill, at the top of which a lone pine tree stood on guard beside the huge rock. To Polly Anna, at the moment, there seemed to be just one place in the world worth being in, the top of that big rock. With a run and a skillful turn, Polly Anna skipped by the bent old man, threaded her way between the orderly rows of green growing things and, a little out of breath, reached the path that ran through the open field. Then, determinedly, she began to climb. Already, however, she was thinking, what a long, long way off that rock must be. When back at the window it had looked so near. Fifteen minutes later, the great clock in the hallway of the Harrington homestead struck six. At precisely the last stroke, Nancy sounded the bell for supper. One, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly frowned and tapped the floor with her slipper. A little jerkily, as she rose to her feet, went into the hall and looked upstairs, plainly impatient. For a minute she listened intently. Then she turned and swept into the dining room. Nancy, she said with decision, as soon as the little serving maid appeared. My niece is late. No, you need not call her. She added severely, as Nancy made a move toward the hall door. I told her what time supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. She may as well begin at once to learn to be punctual. When she comes down, she may have bread and milk in the kitchen. Yes, ma'am. It was well, perhaps, that Miss Polly did not happen to be looking at Nancy's face just then. At the earliest possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up the back stairs and thence to the attic room. Bread and milk, indeed! And when the poor lamb-hate only just cried herself to sleep, she was muttering fiercely, as she softly pushed open the door. The next moment she gave a frightened cry. Where are you? Where you've gone? Where have you gone? She panted, looking in the closet, under the bed, and even in the trunk and down the water-pitcher. Then she flew downstairs and out to Old Tom in the garden. Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, the blessed child's gone! She wailed. She vanished right up into heaven where she'd come from, poor lamb, and me told to give her bread and milk in the kitchen. Her what's eaten angel food this minute, I'll warrant, I'll warrant! The old man straightened up. Gone? Heaven? He repeated stupidly, unconsciously sweeping the brilliant sunset sky with his gaze. He stopped, stared a moment intently, then turned with a slow grin. Well, Nancy, it do look like as if she's tried to get as nigh heaven as she could. That's a fact. He agreed, pointing with a crooked finger to where, sharply outlined against the reddening sky, a slender, wind-blown figure was poised on top of a huge rock. Well, she ain't going to heaven that way tonight. A lot of I has my say, declared Nancy doggedly. If the mistress asks, tell her I ain't forgetting the dishes, but I gone on a stroll. She flung back over her shoulder as she sped toward the path that led through the open field. End of Chapter 4. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 5 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the Story Girl. Chapter 5. The Game. For land's sake, Miss Pollyanna, what a scare you did give me! Panted Nancy, hurrying up to the big rock, down which Pollyanna had just regretfully slid. Scare? Oh, I'm so sorry. But you mustn't really ever get scared about me, Nancy. Father and the Lady's aide used to do it, too, till they found I always came back all right. But I didn't even know you'd went! Cried Nancy, tucking the little girl's hand under her arm and hurrying her down the hill. I didn't see you go, and nobody didn't. I guess you flew right up through the roof, I do, I do. Pollyanna skipped gleefully. I did, most, only I flew down instead of up. I came down the tree. Nancy stopped short. You did what? Came down the tree, outside my window. On my stars and stockings? Gasp Nancy, hurrying on again. I'd like to know what your aunt would say to that. Would you? Well, I'll tell her then, so you can find out. Promised the little girl cheerfully. Mercy! Gasp Nancy. No, no! Wait, you don't mean she'd care? Cried Pollyanna, plainly disturbed. No, uh, yes. Well, never mind. I, I ain't so very particular about no one what she'd say. Truly, stammered Nancy, determined to keep one scolding from Pollyanna, if nothing more. But say, we better hurry. I've got to get them dishes done, you know. I'll help, promised Pollyanna promptly. Oh, Miss Pollyanna, demured Nancy. For a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna took a firmer hold of her friend's arm. I reckon I'm glad, after all, that you did get scared a little. Because then you came after me. She shivered. Poor little lamb. And you must be hungry too. Uh, I'm afraid you'll have to have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Your aunt didn't like it. Because you didn't come down to supper, you know. But I couldn't. I was up here. Yes, but she didn't know that, you see, observed Nancy, dryly, stifling a chuckle. I'm sorry about the bread and milk I am, I am. But Aunt, I'm glad. Glad? Why? Why I like bread and milk, and I'd like to eat with you. I don't see any trouble about being glad about that. You don't seem to see any trouble being glad about everything, retorted Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna's brave attempts to like the bare little attic room. Pollyanna laughed softly. Well, that's the game you know anyway. The game? Yes, the just being glad game. Whatever in the world are you talking about? Well, it's a game. Father told it to me, and it's lovely. Rejoined Pollyanna. We've played it always. Ever since I was a little, little girl, I told the ladies aid, and they played it, some of them. What is it? I ain't much on games though. Pollyanna laughed again. But she sighed too. And in the gathering twilight, her face looked thin and wistful. Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel. Crutches? Yes. You see, I'd wanted a doll, and Father had written them so, but when the barrel came, the lady wrote that there hadn't any dolls come in, but the little crutches had. So she sent them along as they might come in handy for some child sometime. And that's when we began it. Well, I must say I can't see any game about that, about that. Declared Nancy almost irritably. Oh yes, the game was just to find something about everything to be glad about. No matter what was. Rejoined Pollyanna earnestly. And we began right then, on the crutches. Oh goodness me, I can't see anything to be glad about getting a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll. Pollyanna clapped her hands. There is, there is, she crowed. But I couldn't see it either Nancy at first, she added with quick honesty. Father had to tell it to me. Well then suppose you tell me, almost snapped Nancy. Goosey, why, just be glad because you don't need them. Exalted Pollyanna triumphantly. You see it's just as easy when you know how. Well of all the queer do-ins breathed Nancy regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes. Oh but it isn't queer, it's lovely. Maintained Pollyanna enthusiastically. And we've played it ever since. And the harder it is, the more fun it is to get them out. Only, only sometimes it's almost too hard. Like when your father goes to heaven and there isn't anybody but a lady's eight left. Yes, or when you're put in a snippy little room way at the top of the house with nothing in it. Growed Nancy. Pollyanna sighed. That was a hard one at first, she admitted, especially when I was kind of lonesome. I just didn't feel like playing the game anyway, and I had been wanting pretty things so. Then I happened to think how I hated to see my freckles in the looking glass. And I saw that lovely picture out the window too, so then I knew I'd found the things to be glad about. You see, when you're hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other kind. Like the doll you wanted, you know. Choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Most generally it doesn't take so long, sighed Pollyanna. And lots of times now I just think of them without thinking, you know? I've got so used to playing it. It's a lovely game. Father and I used to like it so much, she faltered. I suppose though it will be a little harder now, as long as I haven't anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will play it though, she added as an afterthought. My stars and stockings, her breathe Nancy behind her teeth. Then aloud she said doggedly, see here Miss Pollyanna. I ain't saying that I'll play it very well, and I ain't saying that I know how anyway, but I'll play it with thee after a fashion. I just will, I will. Oh Nancy, exalted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. That'll be splendid. Won't we have fun? Ah, maybe. Conceded Nancy, an open doubt. But you mustn't count too much on me, you know. I never was no case for games, but I'm going to make a most awful old try on this one. You're going to have to have someone to play it with anyhow. She finished as they entered the kitchen together. Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite. Then, at Nancy's suggestion, she went into the sitting room where her aunt sat reading. Miss Polly looked up coldly. Have you had your supper, Pollyanna? Yes, Aunt Polly. I'm very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread and milk. But I was real glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and Nancy too. You mustn't feel bad about that one bit. Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair. Pollyanna, it's quite time you were in bed. You have had a hard day, and tomorrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see what is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Be careful how you handle it. Breakfast will be at half past seven. See that you are down to that. Good night. Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt's side and gave her an affectionate hug. I've had such a beautiful time so far, she sighed happily. I know I'm going to just love living with you, but then I knew I should before I came. Good night. She called cheerfully as she ran from the room. Well upon my soul, ejaculated Miss Polly, half-aloud. What a most extraordinary child. Then she frowned. She's glad I punished her, and I mustn't feel bad one bit. And she's going to love to live with me. Upon my soul, ejaculated Miss Polly again as she took up her book. Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the tightly clutched sheet. I know, Father, among the angels. I'm not playing the game one bit now. No one bit. Believe even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone. Way off up here in the dark, where I was near Nancy. Where I'm Polly, or even a lady's eater. It would be easier. Downstairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, jabbed her dish mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily. If playing a silly fool game about being glad you've got crutches when you want dolls, it's got to be my way of being that rock of refuge. Why, I'm going to play it. I am, I am. End of Chapter Five. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter Six of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter Six. A Question of Duty. It was nearly seven o'clock when Pollyanna awoke that first day after her arrival. Her windows faced the south and the west, so she could not see the sun yet, but she could see the hazy blue of the morning sky, and she knew that the day promised to be a fair one. The little room was cooler now, and the air blew in fresh and sweet. Outside, the birds were twittering joyously, and Pollyanna flew to the window to talk to them. She saw then that down in the garden, her aunt was already out among the rose bushes. With rapid fingers, therefore, she made herself ready to join her. Down the attic stairs sped Pollyanna, leaving both doors wide open. Through the hall, down the next flight, then bang through the front screen door and around to the garden she ran. Aunt Polly, with the bent old man, was leaning over a rose bush when Pollyanna, gurgling with delight, flung herself upon her. Oh Aunt Polly! Aunt Polly, I reckon I am glad this morning just to be alive! Pollyanna, remonstredid the lady sternly, pulling herself as erect as she could with a dragging weight of ninety pounds hanging about her neck. Is this the usual way you say good morning? The little girl dropped to her toes and danced lightly up and down. No, only when I love folks so I just can't help it. I saw you from my window, Aunt Polly, and I got to thinking how you weren't a lady's aider, and you were my really truly aunt, and you looked so good I just had to come down and hug you. The bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss Polly attempted a frown with not her usual success. Pollyanna, you—I—Thomas, that will do for this morning. I think you understand about those rose bushes, she said stiffly. Then she turned and walked rapidly away. Do you always work in the garden, Mr.— Man? asked Pollyanna, interestingly. The man turned. His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as if with tears. Yes, Miss, I'm old Tom, the gardener, he answered. Timidly, but as if impelled by an irresistible force, he reached out a shaking hand and let it rest for a moment on her bright hair. You are so like your mother, little miss. I used to know her when she was even littler than you be. You see, I used to work in the garden then. Pollyanna caught her breath audibly. You did? And you knew my mother? Really? When she was just a little earth angel and not a heaven one? Oh, please tell me about her. And down plumped Pollyanna in the middle of the dirt path by the old man's side. A bell sounded from the house. The next moment Nancy was seen flying out the back door. Miss Pollyanna, that bell means breakfast, mornings, she panted, pulling the little girl to her feet and hurrying her back to the house. And other times it means other meals, but it always means that you're to run like time when you hear it, no matter where you be. If you don't, well, it'll take something smarter than we be to find anything to be glad about in that. She finished shooing Pollyanna into the house as she would shoo an unruly chicken into a coop. Breakfast for the first five minutes was a silent meal. Then Miss Polly, her disapproving eyes following the airy wings of two flies darting hearing there over the table, said sternly. Nancy, where did those flies come from? I don't know, ma'am. There wasn't one in the kitchen. Nancy had been too excited to notice Pollyanna's upflung windows the afternoon before. I reckon maybe they're my flies, Aunt Polly, observed Pollyanna amably. There were lots of them this morning having a beautiful time upstairs. Nancy left the room precipitately, though to do so she had to carry out the hot muffins she had just brought in. Yours, gasped Miss Polly. What do you mean? Where did they come from? Well, Aunt Polly, they came from out of doors, of course, through the windows. I saw some of them come in. You saw them. You mean you raised those windows without any screens? Well, yes. There weren't any screens there, Aunt Polly. Nancy at this moment came in again with the muffins. Her face was grave but very red. Nancy directed her mistress sharply. You may shut the muffins down and go at once to Miss Pollyanna's room and shut the windows. Shut the doors also. Later, when your morning work is done, go through every room with the spatter. See that you make a thorough search. To her niece, she said, Pollyanna, I have ordered screens for those windows. I knew, of course, that it was my duty to do that. It seems to me that you have quite forgotten your duty. My duty? Pollyanna's eyes were wide with wonder. Certainly. I know it is warm but I consider it your duty to keep your windows closed till those screens come. Flies, Pollyanna, are not only unclean and annoying but very dangerous to health. After breakfast I will give you a little pamphlet on this matter to read. To read? Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. I love to read. Miss Polly drew in her breath audibly. Then she shut her lips together hard. Pollyanna, seeing her stern face, frowned a little thoughtfully. Of course I'm sorry about the duty I forgot, Aunt Polly. She apologized timidly. I won't raise the windows again. Her aunt made no reply. She did not speak, indeed, until the meal was over. Then she rose, went to the bookcase in the sitting room, took out a small paper booklet and crossed the room to her niece's side. This is the article I spoke of, Pollyanna. I desire you to go to your room at once and read it. I will be up in half an hour to look over your things. Pollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly's head, many times magnified, cried joyously, Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. The next moment she skipped merrily from the room, banging the door behind her. Miss Polly frowned, hesitated, then crossed the room majestically and opened the door, but Pollyanna was already out of sight, clattering up the attic stairs. Half an hour later, when Miss Polly, her face expressing stern duty in every line, climbed those stairs and entered Pollyanna's room, she was greeted with a burst of eager enthusiasm. Aunt Polly, I never saw anything so perfectly lovely and interesting in my life. I'm so glad you gave me that book to read. Why, I didn't suppose flies could carry such a lot of things on their feet and... That will do, observed Aunt Polly with dignity. Pollyanna, you may bring out your clothes now and I will look them over. What are not suitable for you, I shall give to the Sullivan's, of course. With visible reluctance, Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned toward the closet. I'm afraid you'll think they're worse than the ladies they did, and they said they were shameful, she sighed. But there were mostly things for boys and older folks in the last two or three barrels and... Did you ever have a missionary barrel, Aunt Polly? At her aunt's look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at once. We know of course you didn't, Aunt Polly, she hurried on with a hot blush. I forgot, rich folks never have to have them, but you see sometimes I kind of forget that you are rich. Up here in this room, you know? Miss Polly's lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna, plainly unaware that she had said anything in the least unpleasant, was hurrying on. Well, as I was going to say, you can't tell a thing about missionary barrels, except that you won't find in them what you think you're going to, even when you think you won't. It was the barrels every time, too, that were the hardest to play the game on, for father and... Just in time, Pollyanna remembered that she was not to talk of her father to her aunt. She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out all the poor little dresses in both her arms. They aren't nice at all, she choked. And they'd been black if it hadn't been for the red carpet for the church, but they're all I've got. With the tips of her fingers, Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna. Next, she bestowed frowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers. I've got the best ones on, confessed Pollyanna anxiously. The ladies aide bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs. Jones, she's the president, told him I should have that if they had to clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days. But they won't, Mr. White doesn't like the noise. He's got nerves, his wife says, but he's got money, too, and they expect he'll give a lot toward the carpet, on account of the nerves, you know. I should think he'd be glad that if he did have the nerves he'd got money, too, shouldn't you? Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly. You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna. Oh yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, I mean, I was taught at home some, too. Miss Polly frowned. Very good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course. Mr. Hall, the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong. Meanwhile I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an hour each day. I love to read, but if you don't want to hear me I'd be just glad to read to myself. Truly, Aunt Polly, and I wouldn't have to half try to be glad either, for I like best to read to myself, on account of the big words, you know. I don't doubt it. Rejoined Miss Polly grimly. Have you studied music? Not much. I don't like my music. I like other peoples, though. I learned to play on the piano a little. Miss Gray, she plays for church. She taught me. But I just assumed let that go as not Aunt Polly. I'd rather, truly. Very likely? Observed Aunt Polly with slightly uplifted eyebrows. Nevertheless, I think it is my duty to see that you are properly instructed in at least the rudiments of music. You so, of course. Yes, ma'am. Polly Anna sighed. The Lady Zade taught me that. But I had an awful time. Mrs. Jones didn't believe in holding your needle like the rest of them did on button-holing. And Mrs. White thought backstitching ought to be taught you before hemming, or else the other way. And Mrs. Herman didn't believe in putting you on patchwork, ever, at all. Well, there will be no difficulty of that kind any longer, Polly Anna. I'll teach you sewing myself, of course. You do not know how to cook, I presume? Polly Anna laughed suddenly. They were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I hadn't got far. They were more divided up on that than they were on the sewing. They were going to begin on bread, but there wasn't two of them that made it alike. So after arguing at all one sewing meeting, they decided to take turns at me one four noon a week. In their own kitchens, you know. I'd only learned chocolate fudge and fig cake, though, when I had to stop. Her voice broke. Chocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed, scored Miss Polly. I think we can remedy that very soon. She paused in thought for a minute, then went on slowly. At nine o'clock every morning, you will read aloud one half hour to me. Before that, you will use the time to put this room in order. Wednesday and Saturday, four noons after half past nine, you will spend with Nancy in the kitchen learning to cook. Other mornings, you will sew with me. That will leave the afternoons for your music. I shall, of course, procure a teacher at once for you. She finished decisively as she rose from her chair. Polly Anna cried out in dismay. Open Aunt Polly! Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at all just to... to live. To live, child? What do you mean? As if you weren't living all the time. Oh, of course I'd be breathing all the time I was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living, doing the things you want to do. Playing outdoors, reading, to myself, of course. Climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden and Nancy and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That's what I call living at Polly. Just breathing isn't living. Miss Polly lifted her head irritably. Polly Anna, you are the most extraordinary child. You will be allowed a proper amount of playtime, of course, but surely it seems to me, if I am willing to do my duty in seeing that you have proper care and instruction, you ought to be willing to do yours by seeing that that care and instruction are not ungratefully wasted. Polly Anna looked shocked. Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungrateful to you. Why, I love you and you aren't even a lady's aider. You're an aunt. Very well, then see that you don't act ungrateful. Vouch saved Miss Polly as she turned toward the door. She had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called after her. Please, Aunt Polly, you didn't tell me which of my things you wanted to give away. Aunt Polly admitted a tired sigh, a sigh that ascended straight to Polly Anna's ears. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Polly Anna. Timothy will drive us into town at half past one this afternoon. Not one of your garments is fit for my niece to wear. Certainly I should be very far from doing my duty by you if I should let you appear out in any one of them. Polly Anna sighed now. She believed she was going to hate that word, duty. Aunt Polly, please, she called wistfully. Isn't there any way you can be glad about all that duty business? What? Miss Polly looked up in day's surprise. Then suddenly, with very red cheeks, she turned and swept angrily down the stairs. Don't be impertinent, Polly Anna. In the hot little attic room, Polly Anna dropped herself on to one of the straight back chairs. To her, existence loomed ahead one endless round of duty. I don't see really what there was impertinent about that, she sighed. I was only asking her if she couldn't tell me something to be glad about in all that duty business. For several minutes, Polly Anna sat in silence, her rueful eyes fixed on the forlorn heap of garments on the bed. Then, slowly, she rose and began to put away the dresses. There just isn't anything to be glad about that I can see, she said aloud. Unless it's to be glad when the duty's done. Whereupon she laughed suddenly. End of Chapter 6. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 7 of Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 7. Polly Anna and Punishments. At half past one o'clock, Timothy drove Miss Polly and her niece to the four or five principal dry-good stores, which were about half a mile from the homestead. Fitting Polly Anna with a new wardrobe proved to be more or less of an exciting experience for all concerned. Miss Polly came out of it with the feeling of limp relaxation that one might have at finding oneself at last on solid earth after a perilous walk across the very thin crust of a volcano. The various clerks who had waited upon the pair came out of it with very red faces and enough amusing stories of Polly Anna to keep their friends and gales of laughter the rest of the week. Polly Anna herself came out of it with radiant smiles and a heart content, for she expressed it to one of the clerks, When you haven't had anybody but missionary barrels and ladies-aiders to dress you, it is perfectly lovely to just walk right in and buy clothes that are brand new and that don't have to be tucked up or let down because they don't fit. The shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon. Then came supper and a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden and another with Nancy on the back porch after the dishes were done and while Aunt Polly paid a visit to a neighbor. Old Tom told Polly Anna wonderful things of her mother that made her very happy indeed and Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles away at the corners where lived her own dear mother and her equally dear brother and sisters. She promised too that sometime, if Miss Polly were willing, Polly Anna should be taken to see them. And they've got lovely names too. You like their names. Side Nancy. Their Algernon and Floorbell and Estelle. I... I just hate Nancy. Oh Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say. Why? Because it isn't pretty like the others. You see, I was the first baby and mother hadn't begun to read so many stories with the pretty names in them then. But I love Nancy just because it's you. Declared Polly Anna. Well, I guess you could love Clarissa Maybell just as well, retorted Nancy. And it would be a heap happier for me. I think that name's just grand. Polly Anna laughed. Well anyhow, she chuckled. You can be glad it isn't Hepsaba. Hepsaba? Yes, Mrs. White's name is that. Her husband calls her Hep and she doesn't like it. She says when he calls out, Hep? Hep? She feels just as if the next minute he was going to yell, Hurrah! And she doesn't like to be hurrahed at. Nancy's gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile. Well, if you don't beat the Dutch, say, do you know, I shat never hear Nancy now that I don't think of that Hep, Hep and Giggle. My, I guess I am glad. She stopped short and turned amazed eyes on the little girl. Same as Polly Anna. Do you mean, was you playing that air game then about my being glad I want named Hepsaba? Polly Anna frowned. Then she laughed. My Nancy, that's so. I was playing the game. But that's one of the times I just did it without thinking I reckon. You see, you do, lots of times, you get so used to it. Looking for something to be glad about, you know. And most generally there is something about everything that you can be glad about if you keep hunting long enough to find it. Well, maybe, granted Nancy with open doubt. At half past eight, Polly Anna went to bed. The screens had not yet come and the close little room was like an oven. With longing eyes, Polly Anna looked at the two fast closed windows, but she did not raise them. She undressed, folded her clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew out her candle and climbed into bed. Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from side to side of the hot little cot, she did not know. But it seemed to her that it must have been hours before she finally slipped out of bed, felled her way across the room and opened her door. Out in the main attic, all was velvet blackness, save where the moon flung a path of silver halfway across the floor from the east dormer window. With a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness to the right and to the left, Polly Anna drew a quick breath and padded straight into that silvery path and on to the window. She had hoped vaguely that this window might have a screen, but it did not. Outside, however, there was a wide world of fairy-like beauty. And there was, too, she knew fresh, sweet air that would feel so good to hot cheeks and hands. As she stepped nearer and peered longingly out, she saw something else. She saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat, tin roof of Miss Polly's sun-parler built over the Port Cochère. The sight filled her with longing. If only now she were out there. Fearfully, she looked behind her. Back there, somewhere, were her hot little room and her still hotter bed. But between her and them lay a horrid desert of blackness across which one must feel one's way without stretched, shrinking arms. While before her, out on the sun-parler roof, were the moonlight and the cool, sweet night air. If only her bed were out there. And folks did sleep out of doors. Joel Hartley had at home, who was so sick with the consumption, had to sleep out of doors. Suddenly, Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window a row of long, white bags hanging from nails. Nancy had said that they contained the winter clothing put away for the summer. A little fearfully now, Pollyanna felt her way to these bags, selected a nice, fat, soft one. It contained Miss Polly's seal-skin coat for a bed and a thinner one to be doubled up for a pillow. And still another, which was so thin it seemed almost empty, for a covering. Thus equipped, Pollyanna in high glee patted her to the moonlight window again, raised the sash, stuffed her burden through to the roof below, then let herself down after it, closing the window carefully behind her. Pollyanna had not forgotten those flies with the marvelous feet that carried things. How deliciously cool it was. Pollyanna quite danced up and down with delight, drawing in long, full breaths of the refreshing air. The tin roof under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna rather liked. She walked indeed two or three times back and forth from end to end. It gave her such a pleasant sensation of airy space after her hot little room. And the roof was so broad and flat that she had no fear of falling off. Finally, with a sigh of content, she curled herself up on the seal-skin coat mattress, arranged one bag for a pillow and the other for a covering, and settled herself to sleep. I'm so glad now that the screens didn't come, she murmured, blinking up at the stars. I couldn't have had this. Downstairs, in Miss Polly's room next to the sun-parler, Miss Polly herself was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and frightened. A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice to Timothy. Come up quick, you and your father. Bring lanterns. Somebody is on the roof of the sun-parler. He must have climbed up the rose-trellis or somewhere, and of course he can get right into the house through the east window in the attic. I have locked the attic door down here. But hurry, quick! Some time later, Polly Anna, just dropping off to sleep, was startled by a lantern flash and a trio of amazed ejaculations. She opened her eyes to find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her. Old Tom just getting through the window and her aunt peering out at her from behind him. Polly Anna, what does this mean? cried Aunt Polly then. Polly Anna blinked, sleepy eye isn't sat up. Why, Mr. Tom? Aunt Polly, she stammered. Don't look so scared. It isn't that I've got the consumption, you know, like Joel Hartley. It's only that I was so hot in there. But I shut the window at Polly so the flies couldn't carry those germ things in. Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. Old Tom, with almost equal precipitation, handed his lantern to Miss Polly and followed his son. Miss Polly bit her lip hard until the men were gone. Then she said sternly, Polly Anna, hand those things to me at once and come in here. All the extraordinary children. She ejaculated a little later as with Polly Anna by her side and the lantern in her hand she turned back into the attic. To Polly Anna, the air was all the more stifling after that cool breath of the out-of-doors, but she did not complain. She only drew a long, quivering sigh. At the top of the stairs, Miss Polly jerked out crisply. For the rest of the night, Polly Anna, you are to sleep in my bed with me. The screens will be here tomorrow, but until then I consider it my duty to keep you where I know where you are. Polly Anna drew in her breath. With you? In your bed? She cried rapturously. Oh, Aunt Polly! Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely of you! And when I've so wanted to sleep with someone sometime, someone that belonged to me, you know, not a lady's aider. I've had them. My, I reckon I am glad now those screens didn't come. Wouldn't you be? There was no reply. Miss Polly was stalking on ahead. Miss Polly, to tell the truth, was feeling curiously helpless. For the third time since Polly Anna's arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Polly Anna. And for the third time she was being confronted with the amazing fact that her punishment was being taken as a special reward of merit. No wonder Miss Polly was feeling curiously helpless. End of Chapter 7. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 8 of Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 8. Polly Anna pays a visit. It was not long before life at the Harrington Homestead settled into something like order. Though not exactly the order that Miss Polly had at first prescribed. Polly Anna sowed, practiced, read aloud and studied cooking in the kitchen, it is true. But she did not give to any of these things quite so much time as had first been planned. She had more time also to just live, as she expressed it. For almost all of every afternoon from two until six o'clock was hers to do with as she liked. Provided she did not like to do certain things already prohibited by Aunt Polly. It is a question perhaps whether all this leisure time was given to the child as a relief to Polly Anna from work, or as a relief to Aunt Polly from Polly Anna. Certainly as those first July days passed Miss Polly found occasion many times to ejaculate what an extraordinary child. And certainly the reading and sewing lessons found her at their conclusion each day somewhat dazed and wholly exhausted. Nancy in the kitchen fared better. She was not dazed nor exhausted. Wednesdays and Saturdays came to be indeed red letter days to her. There were no children in the immediate neighborhood of the Harrington homestead for Polly Anna to play with. The house itself was on the outskirts of the village. And though there were other houses not far away, they did not chance to contain any boys or girls near Polly Anna's age. This however did not seem to disturb Polly Anna in the least. Oh no, I don't mind it at all, she explained to Nancy. I'm happy just to walk around and see the streets and the houses and watch the people. I just love people, don't you Nancy? Well, I can't say I do. All of them, retorted Nancy tersely. Almost every pleasant afternoon found Polly Anna begging for an errand to run so that she might be off for a walk in one direction or another. And it was on these walks that frequently she met the man. To herself Polly Anna always called him the man, no matter if she met a dozen other men the same day. The man often wore a long black coat and a high silk hat, two things that the just men never wore. His face was clean shaven and rather pale, and his hair showing below his hat was somewhat gray. He walked erect and rather rapidly, and he was always alone, which made Polly Anna vaguely sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that she one day spoke to him. How do you do sir? Isn't this a nice day? She called cheerily as she approached him. The man threw a hurried glance about him then stopped and certainly. Did you speak to me? He asked in a sharp voice. Yes, sir, beamed Polly Anna. I say it's a nice day, isn't it? Eh? Oh. He grunted and strode on again. Polly Anna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought. The next day she saw him again. Tisn't quite so nice as yesterday, but it's pretty nice, she called out cheerfully. Eh? Oh. Grunted the man as before, and once again Polly Anna laughed happily. When for the third time Polly Anna accosted him in much the same manner, the man stopped abruptly. See here, child. Who are you and why are you speaking to me every day? I'm Polly Anna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I'm so glad you stopped. Now we're introduced. Only I don't know your name yet. Well, of all the… The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on faster than ever. Polly Anna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually smiling lips. Maybe he didn't understand. But that was only half an introduction. I don't know his name yet. She murmured as she proceeded on her way. Polly Anna was carrying Cav's Foot Jelly to Mrs. Snow today. Mrs. Polly Harrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said she thought that it was her duty, in as much as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and a member of her church. It was the duty of all the church members to look out for her, of course. Mrs. Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow usually on Thursday afternoons. Not personally, but through Nancy. Today Polly Anna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given it to her in accordance with Mrs. Polly's orders. And it's glad that I am to get rid of it. Nancy had declared in private afterwards to Polly Anna. Though it's a shame to be tucking the job off onto you, poor lamb. So it is, so it is. But I'd love to do it, Nancy. Well, you won't, after you've done it once, predicted Nancy sourly. Why not? Because nobody does. If folks want sorry for her, there wouldn't a soul go near her from morning till night. She's that contangorous. All is, I pity her daughter what has to take care of her. But why Nancy? Nancy shrugged her shoulders. Well, in plain words, it's just that nothing whatever has happened has happened right in Mrs. Snow's eyes. Even the days of the week ain't run to her mind. If it's Monday, she's bound to say she wished to a Sunday. And if you take her jelly, you're pretty sure to hear she wanted chicken. But if you did bring her chicken, she'd be just hankering for lamb broth. Why, what a funny woman, laughed Pollyanna. I think I shall like to go see her. She must be so surprising and different. I love different folks. Hmm. Well, Miss Snow's different, all right. I hope for the sake of the rest of us. Nancy had finished grimly. Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks today as she turned in at the gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling indeed at the prospect of meeting this different Mrs. Snow. A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door. How do you do? began Pollyanna politely. I'm from Miss Polly Harrington, and I'd like to see Mrs. Snow, please. Well, if you would, you're the first one that ever liked to see her, muttered the girl under her breath. But Pollyanna did not hear this. The girl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door at the end of it. In the sick room, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door, Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to the gloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half sitting up in the bed across the room. Pollyanna advanced at once. How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you're comfortable today, and she sent you some cab's foot jelly. Dear me, jelly, murmured a fretful voice. Of course I'm very much obliged, but I was hoping to be lamb broth today. Pollyanna frowned a little. What? I thought it was chicken you wanted when folks brought you jelly, she said. What? The sick woman turned sharply. Why nothing much, apologized Pollyanna hurriedly. And of course it doesn't really make any difference. It's only that Nancy said it was chicken you wanted when we brought jelly and lamb broth when we brought chicken. But maybe it was the other way and Nancy forgot. The sick woman pulled herself up till she sat erect in the bed. A most unusual thing for her to do, though Pollyanna did not know this. Well, Miss Impertnance, who are you? She demanded. Pollyanna laughed gleefully. Oh, that isn't my name, Mrs. Snow, and I'm so glad it isn't, too. That would be worse than Hepsaba, wouldn't it? I'm Pollyanna Whittier, Miss Polly Harrington's niece, and I've come to live with her. That's why I'm here with the jelly this morning. All through the first part of this sentence, the sick woman had sat interestingly erect. But at the reference to the jelly she fell back on her pillow listlessly. Very well. Thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but my appetite isn't very good this morning, and I was wanting lamb. She stopped suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of subject. I never slept a wink last night. Not a wink! Oh dear, I wish I didn't, sighed Pollyanna, placing the jelly on the little stand and seating herself comfortably in the nearest chair. You lose such a lot of time just sleeping. Don't you think so? Lose time? Sleeping? exclaimed the sick woman. Yes, when you might be just living, you know. It seems such a pity we can't live nights, too. Once again the woman pulled herself erect in her bed. Well, if you ain't the amazing young one, she cried. Here, do you go to that window and pull up the curtain? she directed. I should like to know what you look like. Pollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a little ruefully. Oh dear, then you'll see my freckles, won't you? she sighed as she went to the window. And just when I was being so glad it was dark and you couldn't see him. There, now you can. Oh, she broke off excitedly as she turned back to the bed. I'm so glad you wanted to see me, because now I can see you. They didn't tell me you were so pretty. Me? pretty? scoffed the woman bitterly. Why, yes. Didn't you know it? cried Pollyanna. Well, no, I didn't. retorted Mrs. Snow dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived forty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were. Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hair's all dark, too, and curly. Cooed Pollyanna. I love black curls. That's one of the things I'm going to have when I get to heaven. And you've got two little red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you are pretty. I should think you'd know it when you looked at yourself in the glass. The glass? snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. Yes, well, I ain't done much prankin' before the mirror these days. And you wouldn't if you was flat on your back as I am. Why, no, of course not, agreed Pollyanna sympathetically. But wait, just let me show you. She exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau and picking up a small hand-glass. On the way back to the bed, she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a critical gaze. I reckon maybe, if you don't mind, I'd like to fix your hair just a little before I let you see it, she proposed. May I fix your hair, please? May I? Suppose so, if you want to. Permitted Mrs. Snow grudgingly. But won't stay, you know. Oh, thank you. I love to fix people's hair, exalted Pollyanna, carefully laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. I shan't do much today, of course. I'm in such a hurry for you to see how pretty you are. But someday, I'm going to take it all down and have a perfectly lovely time with it. She cried, touching with soft fingers the waving hair above the sick woman's forehead. For five minutes, Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory curl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck or shaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better pose. Meanwhile, the sick woman, frowning prodigiously and openly scoffing at the whole procedure, was in spite of herself beginning to tingle with a feeling perilously near to excitement. There, panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase nearby and tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect. Now I reckon we're ready to be looked at. And she held out the mirror in triumph. Hmm, grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. I like red pinks better than pink ones. But then it'll fade anyhow before night, so what's the difference? But I should think you'd be glad they did fade, laughed Pollyanna. Because then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love your hair fluffed out like that, she finished with the satisfied gaze. Don't you? Hmm, maybe. Still, twaunt last, with me tossing back and forth on the pillow as I do. Of course not, and I'm glad too, nodded Pollyanna cheerfully. Because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think you'd be glad it's black. Black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair like mine does. Maybe, but I never did set much store by black hair. Chose gray too soon, retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held the mirror before her face. Oh, I love black hair. I should be so glad if I only had it, sighed Pollyanna. Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably. Well, you wouldn't. Not if you were me. You wouldn't be glad for black hair nor anything else if you had to lie here all day as I do. Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown. I might twid be kind of hard to do it then, wouldn't it? She mused aloud. Do what? Be glad about things. Be glad about things. When you're sick in bed all your days. Well, I should say it would, retorted Mrs. Snow. If you don't think so, just tell me something to be glad about, that's all. To Mrs. Snow's unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands. Oh, goody! That'll be a hard one, won't it? I've got to go now, but I'll think and think all the way home and maybe the next time I come I can tell it to you. Goodbye. I've had a lovely time. Goodbye. She called again as she tripped through the doorway. Well, I never. Now what does she mean by that? ejaculated Mrs. Snow, staring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head and picked up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. That little thing has gotten knack with hair and no mistake. She muttered under her breath. I declare, I didn't know it could look so pretty. But then what's the use? She sighed, dropping the little glass into the bedclothes and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully. A little later, when Millie, Mrs. Snow's daughter came in, the mirror still lay among the bedclothes, though it had been carefully hidden from sight. My mother! The curtain is up! cried Millie, dividing her amazed stare between the window and the pink in her mother's hair. Well, what if it is? snapped the sick woman. I needn't stay in the dark all my life if I am sick, need I? Why, no, of course not. We joined Millie in hasty conciliation as she reached for the medicine bottle. It's only, well, you know very well that I've tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and you wouldn't. There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her nightgown. At last she spoke fretfully. I should think somebody might give me a new night dress, instead of lamb broth for a change. My mother! No wonder Millie quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawer behind her at that moment lay two new night dresses that Millie for months had been vainly urging her mother to wear. End of Chapter 8. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 9 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 9. Which Tells of the Man. It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the man. She greeted him, however, with a bright smile. It isn't so nice today, is it? She called blithely. I'm glad it doesn't rain always, anyhow. The man did not even grunt this time, nor turn his head. Pollyanna decided that, of course, he did not hear her. The next time, therefore, which happened to be the following day, she spoke up louder. She thought it particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the man was striding along his hands behind his back and his eyes on the ground, which seemed to Pollyanna preposterous in the face of the glorious sunshine and the freshly washed morning air. Pollyanna, as a special treat, was on a morning errand today. How do you do? She chirped. I'm so glad it isn't yesterday, aren't you? The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face. See here, little girl. We might just as well settle this thing right now, once for all. He began testily. I've got something besides the weather to think of. I don't know whether the sun shines or not. Pollyanna beamed joyously. No, sir. I thought you didn't. That's why I told you. Yes, well, uh, what? He broke off sharply, in sudden understanding of her words. I say that's why I told you. So you would notice it, you know, that the sun shines and all that. I knew you'd be glad it did if you only stopped to think of it, and you didn't look a bit as if you were thinking of it. Well, of all the... ejaculated the man with an oddly impotent gesture. He started forward again, but after the second step, he turned back, still frowning. See here, why don't you find someone your own age to talk to? I'd like to, sir, but there aren't any round here, Nancy says. Still, I don't mind so very much. Unlike old folks just as well, maybe better sometimes, being used to the ladies' aid cell. Ugh. The ladies' aid, indeed. Is that what you took me for? The man's lips were threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was still trying to hold them grimly stern. Pollyanna laughed gleefully. Oh, no, sir. You don't look a mite like a ladies' aider. Not but that you're just as good, of course. Maybe better. She added in hurried politeness. You see, I'm sure you're much nicer than you look. The man made a queer noise in his throat. Well, of all the... he ejaculated again as he turned and strode on as before. The next time Pollyanna met the man, his eyes were gazing straight into hers with a quizzical directness that made his face look really pleasant, Pollyanna thought. Good afternoon. He greeted her a little stiffly. Perhaps I'd better say right away that I know the sun is shining today. But you don't have to tell me. Not at Pollyanna brightly. I knew you knew it, just as soon as I saw you. Oh, you did, did you? Yes, sir. I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your smile. Grunted the man as he passed on. The man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke first, though usually he said little but good afternoon. Even that, however, was a great surprise to Nancy, who chanced to be with Pollyanna one day when the greeting was given. Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna, she gasped. Did that man speak to you? Why, yes, he always does. Now, smiled Pollyanna. He always does. Goodness, do you know who he is? demanded Nancy. Pollyanna frowned and shook her head. I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my part of the introducing, but he didn't. Nancy's eyes widened. But he never speaks to anybody, child. They hate for years, I guess, except when he just has to for business and all that. He's John Pendleton. He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendleton Hill. He won't even have anyone round to cook for him. He comes down to the hotel for his meals three times a day. I know Sally Minor, who waits on him, and she says he hardly opens his head enough to tell what he wants to eat. She has to guess it more than half the time. Only it'll be something cheap. She knows that without no telling. Pollyanna nodded sympathetically. I know. You have to look for cheap things when you're poor. Father and I took meals out a lot. We had beans and fish balls, most generally. We used to say how glad we were we liked beans. That is, we said it especially when we were looking at the roast turkey place, you know. That was sixty cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans? Like them? What if he does or don't? I miss Pollyanna. He ain't poor. He's got loads of money John Pendleton has from his father. There ain't nobody in town as rich as he is. He could eat dollar bills if he wanted to and not know it. Pollyanna giggled. As if anybody could eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they come to try to chew them. No, I mean he's rich enough to do it, shrugged Nancy. He ain't spending his money, that's all. He's a savin' of it. Oh, for the heathen, surmised Pollyanna. How perfectly splendid. That's denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know, Father told me. Nancy's lips parted abruptly as if there were angry words all ready to come. But her eyes, resting on Pollyanna's jubilantly trustful face, saw something that prevented the words being spoken. Hmm, she vouchsafed. Then showing her old-time interest, she went on. But say, it is queer his speakin' to you honestly, Miss Pollyanna. He don't speak to no one, and he lives all alone in a great big lovely house, all full of just grand things, they say. Some says he's crazy, and some just cross, and some says he's got a skeleton in his closet. Oh, Nancy, shuddered Pollyanna. How can he keep such a dreadful thing? I should think he'd throw it away. Nancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the skeleton literally instead of figuratively, she knew very well. But perversely, she refrained from correcting the mistake. And everybody says he's mysterious. She went on. Some years he just travels. Week in and week out. And it's always in heathen countries. Egypt and Asia and the desert of Sarah, you know. Oh, a missionary, nodded Pollyanna. Nancy laughed oddly. Well, I didn't say that, Miss Pollyanna. When he comes back, he writes books, queer odd books, they say, about some gim-crack he's found in them heathen countries. But he don't never seem to want to spend no money here. Least ways, not for just living. Of course not. If he's saving it for the heathen, declared Pollyanna. But he is a funny man. And he's different, too. Just like Mrs. Snow. Only he's a different, different. Well, I guess he is, rather, chuckled Nancy. I'm glad her ever now, anyhow, that he speaks to me. Side Pollyanna, contendedly. End of Chapter 9. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 10 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the Story Girl. Chapter 10. A surprise for Mrs. Snow. The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room. It's the little girl from Mrs. Polly's mother, announced Millie in a tired manner. Then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid. Oh. It's you, is it? Asked a fretful voice from the bed. I remember you. Anybody'd remember you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you had come yesterday. I wanted you yesterday. Did you? Well, I'm glad she isn't any farther away from yesterday than today is, then. Laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room and setting her basket carefully down on a chair. My, but aren't you dark here, though? I can't see you a bit, she cried, unhesitatingly crossing to the window and pulling up the shade. I want to see if you fixed your hair like I did. Oh, you haven't. But never mind, I'm glad you haven't, after all, because maybe you'll let me do it later. But now I want you to see what I've brought you. The woman stirred restlessly. Just as if how it looks would make any difference in how it tastes, she scoffed. But she turned her eyes toward the basket. Well, what is it? Guess, what do you want? Pollyanna had skipped back to the basket. Her face was alight. The sick woman frowned. Why, I don't want anything as I know of. She sighed. After all, they all taste alike. Pollyanna chuckled. This won't. Guess, if you did want something, what would it be? The woman hesitated. She did not realize it herself. But she had so long been accustomed to wanting what she did not have that to state offhand what she did want seemed impossible until she knew what she had. Obviously, however, she must say something. This extraordinary child was waiting. Well, of course there's lamb broth. I've got it, crowed Pollyanna. But that's what I didn't want, sighed the sick woman, sure now of what her stomach craved. It was chicken I wanted. Oh, I've got that too, chuckled Pollyanna. The woman turned in amazement. Both of them? She demanded. Yes, and calf's foot jelly, triumphed Pollyanna. I was just bound you should have what you wanted for once, so Nancy and I fixed it. Oh, of course there's only a little of each, but there's some of all of them. I'm so glad you did want chicken. She went on contentedly as she lifted the three little bowls from her basket. You see, I got to thinking on the way here. What if you should say tripe or onions or something like that that I didn't have? Wouldn't it have been a shame when I tried so hard? She laughed merrily. There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying mentally to find something she had lost. There, I'm to leave them all, announced Pollyanna as she arranged the three bowls in a row on the table. Like enough it'll be lamb broth you want tomorrow. How do you do today? She finished in polite inquiry. Very poorly thank you, murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into her usual listless attitude. I lost my nap this morning. Nelly Higgins next door's begun music lessons, and her practicing drives me nearly wild. She was at it all the morning, every minute. I'm sure I don't know what I shall do. Pollyanna nodded sympathetically. I know. It is awful. Mrs. White had it once. One of my lady's aiders, you know. She had rheumatic fever too at the same time, so she couldn't thrash round. She said it would have been easier if she could have. Can you? Can I what? Thrash round. Move, you know, just to change your position when the music gets too hard to stand. Mrs. Snow stared a little. Of course I can move. Anywhere, in bed. She rejoined a little irritably. Well, you can be glad of that then anyhow, can't you? Nodded Pollyanna. Mrs. White couldn't. You can't thrash when you have rheumatic fever, so you want to something awful, Mrs. White says. She told me afterwards she reckoned she'd have gone raving crazy if it hadn't been for Mr. White's sister's ears. Being deaf, so. Sister's ears? What do you mean? Pollyanna laughed. Well, I reckon I didn't tell at all, and I forgot you didn't know Mrs. White. You see, Mrs. White was deaf. Awfully deaf, and she came to visit him and to help take care of Mrs. White in the house. Well, they had such an awful time making her understand anything that after that, every time the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. White felt so glad she could hear it that she didn't mind so much that she did hear it because she couldn't help thinking how awful it would be if she was deaf and couldn't hear anything, like her husband's sister. You see, she was playing the game, too. I told her about it. The game? Pollyanna clapped her hands. There, I most forgot, but I've thought it up, Mrs. Snow, what you can be glad about. Glad about? What do you mean? Why, I told you I would. Don't you remember? You asked me to tell you something to be glad about. Glad, you know, even though you did have to lie here a bit all day. Oh, scoffed the woman. That? Yes, I remember that, but I didn't suppose you were an earnest any more than I was. Oh, yes, I was. Not at Pollyanna triumphantly. And I found it, too. But it was hard. It's all the more fun, though, always went his heart. And I will own up honest to true that I couldn't think of anything for a while. Then I got it. Did you really? Well, what is it? Mrs. Snow's voice was sarcastically polite. Pollyanna drew a long breath. I thought, how glad you could be that other folks weren't like you. All sick in bed like this, you know. She announced impressively. Mrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry. Well, really, she ejaculated then in not quite an agreeable tone of voice. And now I'll tell you the game, proposed Pollyanna, blithely confident. It'll be just lovely for you to play. It'll be so hard. And there's so much more fun when it is hard. You see, it's like this. And she began to tell of the missionary barrel, the crutches, and the doll that did not come. The story was just finished when Millie appeared at the door. Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna, she said with dreary listlessness. She telephoned to the Harlow's across the way, she says you're to hurry, that you've got some practicing to make up before dark. Pollyanna rose reluctantly. All right, she sighed. I'll hurry. Suddenly she laughed. I suppose I ought to be glad I've got legs to hurry with, hadn't I, Mrs. Snow? There was no answer. Mrs. Snow's eyes were closed. But Millie, whose eyes were wide open with surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted cheeks. Goodbye, flung Pollyanna over her shoulder as she reached the door. I'm awfully sorry about the hair. I wanted to do it, but maybe I can next time. One by one, the July day has passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days indeed. She often told her aunt joyously how very happy they were. Whereupon her aunt would usually reply wearily, Very well, Pollyanna. I'm gratified, of course, that they are happy. But I trust that they are profitable as well. Otherwise I should have failed signally in my duty. Generally, Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss. A proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly. But one day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour. Do you mean that it wouldn't be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they should be just happy days? She asked wistfully. That is what I mean, Pollyanna. They must be profitable as well? Certainly. What is being profitable? Wyatt, it's just being profitable. Having profit, something to show for it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are. Then just being glad isn't profitable? Questioned Pollyanna a little anxiously. Certainly not. Oh, dear. Then you wouldn't like it, of course. I'm afraid now you won't ever play the game, Aunt Polly. Game? What game? Why, that Father... Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. Nothing? She stammered. Miss Polly frowned. That will do for this morning, Pollyanna. She said tersely. And the sewing lesson was over. It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway. Well, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely! She cried. You were coming up to see me. Come right in. I love company. She finished, scampering up the stairs and throwing her door wide open. Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She had been planning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window. But to her unbounded surprise now, she found herself not in the main attic before the cedar chest, but in Pollyanna's little room sitting in one of the straight back chairs. So many, many times since Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some utterly unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set out to do. I love company, said Pollyanna again, flitting about as if she were dispensing the hospitality of a palace. Especially since I've had this room, all mine, you know. Oh, of course I had a room always, but it was a hired room, and hired rooms aren't half as nice as owned ones, are they? And of course I do own this one, don't I? What? Yes, Pollyanna, murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she did not get up at once and go to look for that shawl. And of course now I just love this room, even if it hasn't got the carpets and curtains and pictures that I'd been wanting. With a painful blush, Pollyanna stopped short. She was plunging into an entirely different sentence when her aunt interrupted her sharply. What's that, Pollyanna? Nothing at Polly. Truly, I didn't mean to say it. Probably not, returned Miss Polly coldly. I did say it, so suppose we have the rest of it. But it wasn't anything only that I'd been kind of planning on pretty carpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But of course, planning on them, interrupted Miss Polly sharply. Pollyanna blushed still more painfully. I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly. She apologized. It was only because I'd always wanted them and hadn't had them, I suppose. Oh, we'd had two rugs and the barrels, but they were little, you know, and one had ink spots and the other holes, and there never were only those two pictures. The one fought, I mean, the good one we sold and the bad one that broke. Of course, if it hadn't been for all that, I shouldn't have wanted them so. Pretty things, I mean. And I shouldn't have got to planning all through the hall that first day how pretty mine would be here. And... But truly, Aunt Polly, it wasn't but just a minute. I mean, a few minutes before I was being glad that the Bureau didn't have a looking glass because it didn't show my freckles. And there couldn't be a nicer picture than the one out my window there. And you've been so good to me that... Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red. That will do, Pollyanna, she said stiffly. You have said quite enough, I'm sure. The next minute, she had swept down the stairs. And not until she reached the first floor did it suddenly occur to her that she had gone up into the attic to find a white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window. Less than 24 hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy crisply, Nancy, you may move Miss Pollyanna's things downstairs this morning to the room directly beneath. I have decided to have my niece sleep there for the present. Yes, ma'am, said Nancy aloud. Oh, glory, said Nancy to herself. To Pollyanna, a minute later she cried joyously. And won't you just be listening to this, Miss Pollyanna? You're to sleep downstairs in the room straight under this. You are, you are. Pollyanna actually grew white. You mean, why Nancy? Not really. Really and truly. I guess you'll think it's really and truly, prophesied Nancy exultingly, nodding her head to Pollyanna over the armful of dresses she had taken from the closet. I'm told to take down your things, and I'm going to take them too, for she gets a chance to change her mind. Pollyanna did not stop to hear the end of this sentence. At the imminent risk of being dashed headlong, she was flying downstairs two steps at a time. Bang, went two doors in a chair before Pollyanna at last reached her goal. Aunt Polly. Oh Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, did you mean it? Really? Why, that room's got everything. The carpet and curtains and three pictures besides the one outdoors too, because the windows look the same way. Oh Aunt Polly. Very well, Pollyanna. I'm gratified that you like the change, of course. But if you think so much of all those things, I trust you will take proper care of them. That's all. Pollyanna, please pick up that chair. And you banged two doors in the last half minute. Miss Polly spoke sternly. All the more sternly, because for some inexplicable reason, she felt inclined to cry. And Miss Polly was not used to feeling inclined to cry. Pollyanna picked up the chair. Yes, I know I banged them. Those doors, she admitted cheerfully. You see, I just found out about the room and I reckon you'd have banged doors if... Pollyanna stopped shored and eyed her ant with new interest. Aunt Polly, did you ever bang doors? I hope not, Pollyanna. Miss Polly's voice was properly shocked. Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame. Pollyanna's face expressed only concerned sympathy. A shame, repeated Aunt Polly, two days to say more. Why, yes, you see, if you'd felt like banging doors, you'd have banged them, of course. And if you didn't, that must have meant that you weren't ever glad over anything. Or you would have banged them. You couldn't have helped it. And I'm so sorry you weren't ever glad over anything. Pollyanna gasped the lady, but Pollyanna was gone and only the distant bang of the attic stairway door answered for her. Pollyanna had gone to help Nancy bring down her things. Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed. But then, of course she had been glad over some things. End of Chapter 10. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 11 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by the Story Girl. Chapter 11. Introducing Jimmy. August came. August brought several surprises and some changes, none of which, however, were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since Pollyanna's arrival, had come to look for surprises and changes. First, there was the kitten. Pollyanna found the kitten doing pitifully some distance down the road. When systematic questioning of the neighbors failed to find anyone who claimed it, Pollyanna brought it home at once, as a matter of course. And I was glad I didn't find anyone who owned it too. She told her aunt in happy confidence. Because I wanted to bring it home all the time. I love kitties. I knew you'd be glad to let it live here. Miss Polly looked at the forlorn little gray bunch of neglected misery in Pollyanna's arms and shivered. Miss Polly did not care for cats. Not even pretty, healthy, clean ones. Pollyanna, what a dirty little beast. And it's sick, I'm sure, and all mangy and flea-y. I know it, poor little thing, but I assumed Pollyanna tenderly, looking into the little creature's frightened eyes. And it's all trembling too, it's so scared. You see, it doesn't know yet that we're going to keep it, of course. No, nor anybody else. Retorted Miss Polly with meaning emphasis. Oh yes, they do! nodded Pollyanna, entirely misunderstanding her aunt's words. I told everybody we should keep it. If I didn't find where it belonged, I knew you'd be glad to have it. Poor little lonesome thing. Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak, but in vain. The curious, helpless feeling that had been her so often since Pollyanna's arrival had her now fast in its grip. Of course I knew, hurried on Pollyanna gratefully. That you wouldn't let a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you'd just taken me in. And I said so to Mrs. Ford when she asked if you'd let me keep it. Why, I had the lady's age, you know. Kitty doesn't have anybody. I knew you'd feel that way. She nodded happily as she ran from the room. But Pollyanna... Pollyanna, remonstrated Miss Polly. I don't... But Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling, Nancy! Nancy! Just see this dear little kitty that Aunt Polly is going to bring up along with me. And Aunt Polly, in the sitting room, who abhorred cats, fell back in her chair with a gasp of dismay, powerless to remonstrate. The next day, it was a dog. Even dirtier and more forlorn perhaps than was the kitten. And again, Miss Polly, to her dumbfounded amazement, found herself figuring as a kind protector and an angel of mercy, a role that Pollyanna so unhesitatingly thrust upon her as a matter of course, that the woman, who abhorred dogs even more than she did cats, if possible, found herself, as before, powerless to remonstrate. When, in less than a week, however, Pollyanna brought home a small, ragged boy, and confidently claimed the same protection for him, Miss Polly did have something to say. It happened after this wise. On a pleasant Thursday morning, Pollyanna had been taking Cavsfoot jelly again to Mrs. Snow. Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best of friends now. Their friendship had started from the third visit Pollyanna had made, the one after she had told Mrs. Snow of the game. Mrs. Snow herself was playing the game now with Pollyanna. To be sure, she was not playing it very well. She had been sorry for everything for so long that it was not easy to be glad for anything now. But under Pollyanna's cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning fast. Today, even, to Pollyanna's huge delight, she had said that she was glad Pollyanna brought Cavsfoot jelly because that was just what she had been wanting. She did not know that Millie, at the front door, had told Pollyanna that the minister's wife had already that day sent over a great bowl full of that same kind of jelly. Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy. The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside, whittling half-heartedly at a small stick. Hello, smiled Pollyanna engagingly. The boy glanced up, but he looked away again at once. Hello yourself, he mumbled. Pollyanna laughed. Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for Cavsfoot jelly, she chuckled, stopping before him. The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began to whittle again at his stick with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his hand. Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass near him. In spite of Pollyanna's brave assertion that she was used to ladies' aiders and didn't mind, she had sighed at times for some companion of her own age, hence her determination to make the most of this one. My name's Pollyanna Whittier. She began pleasantly. What's yours? Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he settled back. Jimmy Bean. He grunted with ungracious indifference. Good, now we're introduced. I'm glad you did your part. Some folks don't, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house. Where do you live? Nowhere. Nowhere? Why, you can't do that. Everybody lives somewhere, asserted Pollyanna. Well, I don't. Just now. I'm hunting up a new place. Oh, where is it? The boy regarded her with scornful eyes. Silly. As if I'd be a-hunting for it, if I knew. Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and she did not like to be called silly. Still, he was somebody besides old folks. Where did you live before? She queried. Well, if you ain't the beaten for asking questions, I'd provide the boy, impatiently. I have to be, retorted Pollyanna calmly. Else I couldn't find out a thing about you. If you'd talk more, I wouldn't talk so much. The boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a willing one. But his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this time. All right then. Here goes. I'm Gene, and I'm ten years old, going on eleven. I came last year to live at the orphan's home. But they've got so many kids, there ain't much room for me. And I won't never want it anyhow, I don't believe. So I've quit. I'm going to live somewhere else. But I ain't found the place yet. I'd like a home. Just a common one, you know, with a mother in it, instead of a matron. If he has a home, he has folks. I ain't had folks since Dad died. So I'm a-hunting now. I've tried four houses, but they didn't want me. Though I said I expected to work, of course. There, is that all you want to know? The boy's voice had broken a little over the last two sentences. Why, what a shame, sympathized Pollyanna. And didn't there anybody want you? Oh dear. I know just how you feel, because after my father died too, there wasn't anybody but the ladies' aid for me. Until Aunt Polly said she'd take- Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of a wonderful idea began to show in her face. Oh, I know just the place for you, she cried. Aunt Polly'll take you? I know she will. Didn't she take me? And didn't she take Fluffy and Buffy, when they didn't even have anyone to love them, or any place to go? And they're only cats and dogs. Oh come, I know Aunt Polly'll take you. You don't know how good and kind she is. Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened. Honest engine? What'd she know? Work, you know, and I'm real strong. He bared a small bony arm. Of course she would. When my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the world, now that my mama has gone to be a heaven angel, and there's rooms, heaps of them, she continued, springing to her feet and tugging at his arm. It's an awful big house. Maybe though, she added a little anxiously as they hurried on. Maybe you'll have to sleep in the attic room. I did it first, but there's screens there now, so don't be so hot, and the flies can't get in either to bring in the gym things on their feet. Did you know about that? It's perfectly lovely. Maybe she'll let you read the book if you're good. I mean, if you're bad. And you've got freckles too. With a critical glance. So you'll be glad there isn't any looking glass, and the outdoor picture is nicer than any wall one could be, so you won't mind sleeping in that room at all, I'm sure. Panted Polly Anna, finding suddenly that she needed the rest of her breath for purposes other than talking. Gory exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and uncomprehendingly, but admiringly. Then he added, I shouldn't think anybody who could talk like that run in would need to ask no questions to fill up time with. Polly Anna laughed. Well anyhow, you can be glad of that, she retorted. For when I'm talking, you don't have to. When the house was reached, Polly Anna unhesitatingly piloted her companion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt. Oh Aunt Polly, she triumphed. Just look at here. I've got something ever so much nicer even than fluffy and buffy for you to bring up. It's a real life boy. He won't mind a bit sleeping in the attic at first, you know, and he says he'll work, but I shall need him most of the time to play with, I reckon. Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand, but she thought she understood enough. Polly Anna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did you find him? She demanded sharply. The dirty little boy fell back a step and looked toward the door. Polly Anna laughed merrily. There, if I didn't forget to tell you his name, I'm as bad as the man. And he is dirty too, isn't he? I mean, the boy is. Just like fluffy and buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon he'll improve all right by washing just as they did and, oh, I most forgot again. She broke off with a laugh. This is Jimmy Bean at Polly. Well, what is he doing here? Wait, at Polly, I just told you. Polly Anna's eyes were wide with surprise. He's for you. I brought him home so he could live here, you know. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me and a fluffy and buffy and that I knew you would be to him because of course he's even nicer than cats and dogs. Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her throat. The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her. With a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly erect. That will do, Polly Anna. This is a little of the most absurd thing you've done yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren't bad enough but you must needs bring home ragged little beggars from the street who there was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and his chin came up. With two strides of his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly fearlessly. I ain't a beggar, Marm. And I don't want nothing to you. I was count-latent to work, of course, for my boredom keep. I wouldn't have come to your old house anyhow if this your girl Adna made me telling me how you was so good and kind that you'd just be dying to take me in. So there. And he wheeled about and stalked from the room with a dignity that would have been absurd. Had it not been so pitiful. Oh, Aunt Polly. Choked Polly Anna. Wait. I thought you'd be glad to have him here. I'm sure I should think you'd be glad. Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence. Miss Polly's nerves had snapped at last. The good and kind of the boy's words were still ringing in her ears and the old helplessness was almost upon her, she knew. Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom of her willpower. Polly Anna. She cried sharply. Will you stop using that everlasting word glad? It's glad, glad, glad from morning till night until I think I shall grow wild. From sheer amazement, Polly Anna's jaw dropped. I am Polly. She breathed. I should think you'd be glad to have me glad. She broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying blindly from the room. Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Polly Anna overtook him. Boy, boy! Jimmy Bean. I want you to know how, how sorry I am. She panted, catching him with a detaining hand. Sorry, Nussan. I ain't blaming you, retorted the boy sullenly. But I ain't no beggar, he added with sudden spirit. Of course you aren't, but you mustn't blame Anty, appealed Polly Anna. Probably I didn't do the introducing right anyhow and I reckon I didn't tell her much who you were. She is good and kind really. She's always been, but I probably didn't explain it right. I too wish I could find some place for you though. The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away. Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain't no beggar, you know. Polly Anna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face illumined. Say, I'll tell you what I will do. The lady's aide meets this afternoon. I heard that Polly say so. I'll lay your case before them. That's what father always did when he wanted anything. Educating the heathen and new carpets, you know? The boy turned fiercely. Well, he ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides, what is a lady's aide? Polly Anna stared in shocked disapproval. Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up? Not to know what a lady's aide is? Oh, all right. You ain't tellin', grunted the boy, turning and beginning to walk away indifferently. Polly Anna sprang to his side at once. It's...it's... Well, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give suppers and raise money and... and talk. That's what a lady's aide does. They're awfully kind. That is, most of mine was. Back home. I haven't seen this one here, but they're always good, I reckon. I'm going to tell them about you this afternoon. Again, the boy turned fiercely. Not much, you will. Maybe you think I'm gonna stand round for a whole lot of women call me a beggar instead of just one. Not much. Oh, but you wouldn't be there, argued Polly Anna quickly. I'd go alone, of course, and tell them. You would? Yes, and I'd tell it better this time, hurried on Polly Anna, quick to see the signs of relenting in the boy's face. And there'd be some of them that would be glad to give you a home. I'd work, don't forget to say that, cautioned the boy. Of course not, promised Polly Anna happily, sure now that her point was gained. Then I'll let you know tomorrow. Where? By the road, where I found you today, near Mrs. Snow's house. All right, I'll be there. The boy paused before he went on slowly. Maybe I'd better go back then, for tonight, to the home. You see, I hate no other place to stay, and I didn't leave till this morning. I slipped out. I didn't tell them I wasn't coming back else they'd pretend I couldn't come, though I'm thinking they won't do no worrying when I don't show up sometime. They ain't like folks, you know. They don't care. I know, not at Polly Anna, with understanding eyes. But I'm sure when I see you tomorrow, I'll have just a common home in folks that do care already for you. Goodbye, she called brightly as she turned back toward the house. In the sitting room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been watching the two children, followed with somber eyes the boy until a bend of the road hit him from sight. Then she sighed, turned and walked listlessly upstairs. And Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In her ears still was the boy's scornful. You was so good in kind. In her heart was the curious sense of desolation as of something lost. End of Chapter 11. Recording by the Story Girl. Chapter 12 of Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 12. Before the Lady's Aid. Dinner, which came at noon in the Harrington homestead, was a silent meal on the day of the Lady's Aid meeting. Polly Anna, it is true, tried to talk, but she did not make a success of it, chiefly because four times she was obliged to break off a glad in the middle of it, much to her blushing discomfort. The fifth time it happened, Miss Polly moved her head wearily. There their child say it if you want to. She sighed. I'm sure I'd rather you did than not if it's going to make all this fuss. Polly Anna's puckered little face cleared. Oh, thank you. I'm afraid it would be pretty hard not to say it. You see, I've played it so long. You've what? demanded Aunt Polly. Played it, the game you know, that Father... Polly Anna stopped with a painful blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden ground. Aunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest of the meal was a silent one. Polly Anna was not sorry to hear Aunt Polly tell the minister's wife over the telephone a little later that she would not be at the Lady's Aid meeting that afternoon, owing to a headache. When Aunt Polly went upstairs to her room and closed the door, Polly Anna tried to be sorry for the headache, but she could not help feeling glad that her aunt was not to be present that afternoon when she laid the case of Jimmy Bean before the Lady's Aid. She could not forget that Aunt Polly had called Jimmy Bean a little beggar, and she did not want Aunt Polly to call him that before the Lady's Aid. Polly Anna knew that the Lady's Aid met at two o'clock in the chapel next to the church, not quite half a mile from home. She planned her going, therefore, so that she should get there a little before three. I want them all to be there, she said to herself. Else the very one that wasn't there might be the one who would be wanting to give Jimmy Bean home. And, of course, two o'clock always means three, really, to Lady's Aiders. Quietly, but with confident courage, Polly Anna ascended the chapel's steps, pushed open the door, and entered the vestibule. A soft babble of feminine chatter and laughter came from the main room. Hesitating only a brief moment, Polly Anna pushed open one of the inner doors. The chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Polly Anna advanced a little timidly. Now that the time had come, she felt unwontedly shy. After all, these half-strange, half-familiar faces about her were not her own dear Lady's Aid. How do you do, Lady's Aiders? She faltered politely. I'm Polly Anna Whittier. I reckon some of you know me, maybe. Anyway, I do you. Only I don't know you altogether this way. The silence could almost be felt now. Some of the ladies did know this rather extraordinary niece of their fellow member, and nearly all had heard of her. But not one of them could think of anything to say just then. I've come to lay the case before you, stammered Polly Anna after a moment, unconsciously falling into her father's familiar phraseology. There was a slight rustle. Did your aunt send you, my dear? Asked Mrs. Ford, the minister's wife. Polly Anna colored a little. Oh, no. I came all by myself. You see, I'm used to Lady's Aiders. It was Lady's Aiders that brought me up with father. Somebody tittered hysterically, and the minister's wife frowned. Yes, dear. What is it? Well, it's Jimmy Bean, sighed Polly Anna. He hasn't any home except the orphan one, and they're full and don't want him anyhow, he thinks, so he wants another. He wants one of the common kind, that has a mother instead of a matron in it. Folks, you know, that'll care. He's ten years old going on eleven. I thought some of you might like him. To live with you, you know. Well, did you ever? murmured a voice, breaking the dazed pause that followed Polly Anna's words. With anxious eyes, Polly Anna swept the circle of faces about her. Oh, I forgot to say, he will work. She supplemented eagerly. Still, there was silence. Then, coldly, one or two women began to question her. After a time, they all had the story and began to talk among themselves, animatedly, not quite pleasantly. Polly Anna listened with growing anxiety. Some of what was said, she could not understand. She did gather, after a time, however, that there was no woman there who had a home to give him. Though every woman seemed to think that some of the others might take him, as there were several who had no little boys of their own already in their homes. But there was no one who agreed herself to take him. Then she heard the minister's wife suggest timidly that they, as a society, might perhaps assume his support in education instead of sending quite so much money this year to the little boys in far away India. A great many ladies talked then, and several of them talked all at once, and even more loudly and more unpleasantly than before. It seemed that their society was famous for its offering to Hindu missions, and several said they should die of mortification if it should be less this year. Some of what was said at this time, Palliana again thought she could not have understood, too, for it sounded almost as if they did not care at all what the money did, so long as the sum opposite the name of their society in a certain report headed the list. And of course, that could not be what they meant at all. But it was all very confusing, and not quite pleasant, so that Palliana was glad indeed when at last she found herself outside in the hushed, sweet air. Only she was very sorry, too, for she knew it was not going to be easy, or anything but sad, to tell Jimmy being tomorrow that the ladies' aid had decided that they would rather send all their money to bring up the little India boys and to save out enough to bring up one little boy in their own town, for which they would not get a bit of credit in the report, according to the tall lady who wore spectacles. Not but that it's good, of course, to send money to the heathen, and I shouldn't want them not to send some there, sighed Palliana to herself as she trudged sorrowfully along. But they acted as if little boys here weren't any account. Only little boys, way off. I should think, though, they'd rather see Jimmy being grown than just a report. End of Chapter 12. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 13 of Palliana by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 13. In Pendleton Woods. Palliana had not turned her steps toward home when she left the chapel. She had turned them instead toward Pendleton Hill. It had been a hard day for all that had been a vacation one as she termed the infrequent days when there was no sewing or cooking lesson. And Palliana was sure that nothing would do her quite so much good as a walk through the green quiet of Pendleton Woods. Up Pendleton Hill, therefore, she climbed steadily, in spite of the warm sun on her back. I don't have to get home till half past five anyway, she was telling herself. And it'll be so much nicer to go around by the way of the woods even if I do have to climb to get there. It was very beautiful in the Pendleton Woods as Palliana knew by experience. But today it seemed even more delightful than ever, notwithstanding her disappointment over what she must tell Jimmy Bean tomorrow. I wish they were up here. All those ladies who talked so loud, sighed Palliana to herself, raising her eyes to the patches of vivid blue between the sunlit green of the treetops. Anyhow, if they were up here, I'd just reckon they'd change and take Jimmy Bean for their little boy all right. She finished, secured her conviction, but unable to give a reason for it, even to herself. Suddenly Palliana lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked some distance ahead. A minute later he came dashing toward her, still barking. Hello, doggy! Palliana snapped her fingers at the dog and looked expectantly down the path. She had seen the dog once before she was sure. He had been then with the man, Mr. John Pendleton. She was looking now, hoping to see him. For some minutes she watched eagerly, but he did not appear. Then she turned her attention toward the dog. The dog, as even Palliana could see, was acting strangely. He was still barking, giving little short, sharp yelps as if of alarm. He was running back and forth too in the path ahead. Soon they reached a side path and down this the little dog fairly flew, only to come back at once, whining and barking. Oh, that isn't the way home! Laughed Palliana, still keeping to the main path. The little dog seemed frantic now. Back and forth, back and forth, between Palliana and the side path he vibrated, barking and whining pitifully. Every quiver of his little brown body and every glance from his beseeching brown eyes were eloquent with appeal, so eloquent that at last Palliana understood, turned and followed him. Straight ahead now the little dog dashed madly, and it was not long before Palliana came upon the reason for it all. A man lying motionless at the foot of a steep, overhanging mass of rock, a few yards from the side path. A twig cracked sharply under Palliana's foot, and the man turned his head. With a cry of dismay, Palliana ran to his side. Mr. Pendleton! Oh, are you hurt? Hurt? Oh, no. I'm just taking a siesta in the sunshine. Snapped the man irritably. See here, how much do you know? What can you do? Have you got any sense? Palliana caught her breath with a little gasp, but, as was her habit, she answered the questions literally one by one. Wait, Mr. Pendleton, I... I don't know so very much, and I can't do a great many things. But most of the ladies' aiders, except Mrs. Rawson, said I had real good sense. I heard him say so one day. I didn't know I heard, though. The man smiled grimly. There, there, child, I beg your pardon, I'm sure. It's only this confounded leg of mine. I'll listen. He paused and, with some difficulty, reached his hand into his trouser's pocket and brought out a bunch of keys, singling out one between his thumb and forefinger. Straight through the path there. About five minutes' walk is my house. This key will admit you to the side door under the Port Cochère. Do you know what a Port Cochère is? Oh, yes, sir. Andy has one with a sun parlor over it. That's the roof I slept on. Only I didn't sleep, you know, they found me. Eh? Well, when you get into the house, you go straight through the vestibule and hall to the door at the end. On the big, flat-talked desk in the middle of the room you'll find a telephone. Do you know how to use a telephone? Oh, yes, sir. We once went at Polly. Never mind Aunt Polly now. Cut in the man scowlingly as he tried to move himself a little. Hunt up Dr. Thomas Chilton's number on the card. You'll find somewhere around there. It ought to be on the hook down at the side, but it probably won't be. You know a telephone card, I suppose, when you see one? Oh, yes, sir. I just love Aunt Polly's. There's such a lot of queer names and... Tell Dr. Chilton that John Pendleton is at the foot of little eagle ledge in Pendleton Woods with a broken leg, and to come at once with a stretcher and two men. He'll know what to do besides that. Tell him to come by the path from the house. A broken leg? Oh, Mr. Pendleton. How perfectly awful! Shuddered Pollyanna. But I'm so glad I came. Can't I do...? Yes, you can, but evidently you won't. Will you go and do what I ask and stop talking? Moaned the man faintly, and with a little sobbing cry Pollyanna went. Pollyanna did not stop now to look up at the patches of blue between the sunlit tops of the trees. She kept her eyes on the ground to make sure that no twig nor stone tripped her hurrying feet. It was not long before she came in sight of the house. She had seen it before, though never so near as this. She was almost frightened now at the massiveness of the great pile of grey stone with its pillared verandas and its imposing entrance. Pausing only a moment, however, she sped across the big neglected lawn and around the house to the side door under the port-cochère. Her fingers, stiff from their tight clutch upon the keys, were anything but skillful in their efforts to turn the bolt and the lock, but at last the heavy, carved door swung slowly back on its hinges. Pollyanna caught her breath. In spite of her feeling of haste, she paused a moment and looked fearfully through the vestibule to the wide, somber hall beyond, her thoughts in a whirl. This was John Pendleton's house, the house of mystery, the house into which no one but its master entered. The house which sheltered somewhere a skeleton. Yet she, Pollyanna, was expected to enter alone these fearsome rooms and telephone the doctor that the master of the house lay now. With a little cry, Pollyanna, looking neither to the right nor the left, fairly ran through the hall to the door at the end and opened it. The room was large and somber with dark woods and hangings like the hall. But through the west window, the sun threw a long shaft of gold across the floor, gleaned dolly on the tarnished brass and irons in the fireplace, and touched the nickel of the telephone on the great desk in the middle of the room. It was toward this desk that Pollyanna hurriedly tiptoed. The telephone card was not on its hook. It was on the floor. But Pollyanna found it and ran her shaking forefinger down through the seas to Chilton. In due time, she had Dr. Chilton himself at the other end of the wires and was tremblingly delivering her message and answering the doctor's terse pertinent questions. This done, she hung up the receiver and drew a long breath of relief. Only a brief glance did Pollyanna give about her, then with a confused vision in her eyes of crimson draperies, book-lined walls, a littered floor, an untidy desk, innumerable closed doors, any one of which might conceal a skeleton. And everywhere, dust, dust, dust, she fled back through the hall to the great carved door, still half open as she had left it. In what seemed, even to the injured man, an incredibly short time, Pollyanna was back in the woods at the man's side. Well, what's the trouble? Couldn't you get in? He demanded. Pollyanna opened wide her eyes. Why, of course I could. I'm here, she answered, as if I'd be here if I hadn't got in. And the doctor will be right up just as soon as possible with the men and things. He said he knew just where you were, so I didn't stay to show him. I wanted to be with you. Did you? smiled the man grimly. Well, I can't say I admire your tastes. I should think you might find pleasanter companions. Do you mean because you're so cross? Thanks for your frankness, yes. Pollyanna laughed softly. But you're only cross outside. You aren't cross inside a bit. Indeed. How do you know that? Asked the man trying to change the position of his head without moving the rest of his body. Oh, lots of ways. There, like that. The way you act with the dog. She added, pointing to the long slender hand that rested on the dog's sleek head near him. It's funny how dogs and cats know the insides of folks better than other folks do, isn't it? Say, I'm going to hold your head. She finished abruptly. The man wintzed several times and groaned once softly while the change was being made. But in the end he found Pollyanna's lap a very welcome substitute for the rocky hollow in which his head had lain before. Oh, that is better. He murmured faintly. He did not speak again for some time. Pollyanna, watching his face, wondered if he were asleep. She did not think he was. He looked as if his lips were tight shut to keep back moans of pain. Pollyanna herself almost cried aloud as she looked at his great strong body lying there so helpless. One hand, with fingers tightly clenched, lay outflung motionless. The other, limply open, lay on the dog's head. The dog, his wistful, eager eyes on his master's face, was motionless too. Minute by minute the time passed. The sun dropped lower in the west and the shadows grew deeper under the trees. Pollyanna sat so still she hardly seemed to breathe. A bird alighted fearlessly within reach of her hand and a squirrel whisked his bushy tail on a tree branch almost under her nose, yet with his bright little eyes all the while on the motionless dog. At last, the dog pricked up his ears and whined softly. Then he gave a short, sharp bark. The next moment Pollyanna heard voices and very soon their owners appeared, three men carrying a stretcher and various other articles. The tallest of the party, a smooth, shaven, kind-eyed man whom Pollyanna knew by sight as Dr. Chilton advanced cheerily. Well, my little lady, playing nurse. Oh, no, sir, smiled Pollyanna. I've only held his head. I haven't given him a might of medicine, but I'm glad I was here. So am I, nodded the doctor as he turned his absorbed attention to the injured man. End of Chapter 13 Recording by The Story Girl Chapter 14 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 14 Just a Matter of Jelly Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to John Pendleton, but as it happened she escaped without reproof. Nancy met her at the door. Well, if I ain't glad to be set in my two eyes on you, she sighed in obvious relief. It's half past six. I know it, admitted Pollyanna anxiously, but I'm not to blame. Truly I'm not, and I don't think even Aunt Polly will say I am either. She won't have the chance, retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction. She's gone. Gone, gasped Pollyanna. You don't mean that I've driven her away? Through Pollyanna's mind at the moment, trooped remorseful memories of the morning with its unwanted boy, cat, and dog, and its unwelcome glad and forbidden father that would spring to her forgetful little tongue. Oh, I didn't drive her away! Not much you did, scoffed Nancy. Her cousin died suddenly down to Boston, and she had to go. And one of them yell her telegram letters after he went away this afternoon, and she won't be back for three days. Now I guess we're glad all right. We'll be keeping house together. Just you and me, all that time. We will, we will. Pollyanna looked shocked. Glad? Oh, Nancy, when it's a funeral? Oh, but when the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna, it was... Nancy stopped abruptly. A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes. Why, Miss Pollyanna, is it want yourself that was teaching me to play the game? She reproached her gravely. Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown. I can't help it, Nancy. She argued with a shake of her head. It must be that there are some things that isn't right to play the game on, and I'm sure funerals is one of them. There's nothing in a funeral to be glad about. Nancy chuckled. We can be glad, Tane D'Arne! She observed amirally. But Pollyanna did not hear. She had begun to tell of the accident, and the moment Nancy open-mouthed was listening. At the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy Bean according to agreement. As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed keen disappointment that the lady's aide preferred a little India boy to himself. Well, maybe it is natural, he sighed. Of course, things you don't know about are always nicer than things you do, same as the potato on the other side of the plate is always the biggest. But I wish I looked that way to somebody way off. Wouldn't it be just great now if only somebody over in India wanted me? Pollyanna clapped her hands. Why, of course! That's the very thing, Jimmy! I'll write to my lady's aiders about you. They aren't over in India, they're only out west, but that's awful far away, just the same. I reckon you'd think so if you'd come all the way here as I did. Jimmy's face brightened. Do you think they would? Truly take me? He asked. Of course they would. Don't they take little boys in India to bring up? Well, they can just play. You are the little India boy this time. I reckon you're far enough away to make a report, alright? You wait. I'll write them. I'll write Mrs. White. No, I'll write Mrs. Jones. Mrs. White has got the most money, but Mrs. Jones gives the most. Which is kind of funny, isn't it? When you think of it. But I reckon some of the aiders will take you. Alright. But don't forget to say I'll work for my board and keep. Put in Jimmy. I ain't no beggar. And business is business, even with ladies aiders, I'm thinking. He hesitated, then added. And I suppose I'd better stay where I'd be for a spell yet, till you hear. Of course. Noted Pollyanna emphatically. Then I'll know just where to find you. And they'll take you. I'm sure you're far enough away for that. Didn't Aunt Polly take... Say, she broke off suddenly. Do you suppose I was Aunt Polly's little girl from India? Well, if you ain't the queer's kid, grinned Jimmy as he turned away. It was about a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that Pollyanna said to her aunt one morning. Aunt Polly, please, would you mind very much if I took Mrs. Snow's calf's foot jelly this week to someone else? I'm sure Mrs. Snow wouldn't. This once. Dear me, Pollyanna, what are you up to now? Side her aunt. You are the most extraordinary child. Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously. Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you're extraordinary, you can't be ordinary, can you? You certainly cannot. Oh, that's all right then. I'm glad I'm extraordinary. Side Pollyanna, her face clearing. You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs. Rossin was a very ordinary woman. And she disliked Mrs. Rossin something awful. They were always fight... I mean, father had... That is, I mean, we had more trouble keeping peace between them than we did between any of the rest of the Aiders. Corrected Pollyanna. A little breathless from her efforts to steer between the silla of her father's past commands in regard to speaking of church quarrels and the caribdis of her aunt's present commands in regard to speaking of her father. Yes, yes, well, never mind. Interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle impatiently. You do run on so, Pollyanna. And no matter what we're talking about, you always bring up those ladies' Aiders. Yes, I'm... smiled Pollyanna cheerfully. I reckon I do, maybe. But you see, they used to bring me up and... That will do, Pollyanna. Interrupted a cold voice. Now what is it about this jelly? Nothing at Polly, truly, that you would mind, I'm sure. You let me take jelly to her, so I thought you would to him, this once. You see, broken legs aren't like... like lifelong invalence. So his won't last forever, as Mrs. Snows does. And she can have all the rest of the things after just once or twice. Him? He? Broken leg? What are you talking about, Pollyanna? Pollyanna stared, then her face relaxed. Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn't know. You see, it happened while you were gone. It was the very day you went that I found him in the woods, you know. And I had to unlock his house and telephone for the men in the doctor and hold his head in everything. And of course, then I came away and haven't seen him since. But when Nancy made the jelly for Mrs. Snow this week, I thought how nice it would be if I could take it to him instead of her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I? Yes, yes, I suppose so. Awkwardly asked Miss Polly a little wearily. Who did you say he was? The man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton. Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair. John Pendleton? Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him? Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead, she asked, Do you know him? Pollyanna nodded. Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles. Now he's only crossed outside, you know. I'll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it most fixed when I came in. Finished Pollyanna already halfway across the room. Pollyanna, wait! Miss Polly's voice was suddenly very stern. I've changed my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly today as usual. That is all. You may go now. Pollyanna's face fell. Oh, but Aunt Polly, hers will last. She can always be sick and have things, you know. But his is just a broken leg and legs don't last. I mean broken ones. He's had it a whole week now. Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident. I said Miss Polly a little stiffly. But I do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna. Oh, he is cross outside. Admitted Pollyanna sadly. So I suppose you don't like him. But I wouldn't say twas you said it. I'd say twas me. I like him. I'd be glad to send him jelly. Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then suddenly she stopped and asked in a curiously quiet voice. Does he know who you are, Pollyanna? The little girl sighed. I reckon not. I told him my name once, but he never calls me it. Never. Does he know where you live? Oh no, I never told him that. Then he doesn't know you're my niece? I don't think so. For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem to see her at all. The little girl, shifting impatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly. Then Miss Polly roused herself with a start. Very well, Pollyanna. She said at last. Still in that queer voice so unlike her own. You may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your own gift. But understand. I do not send it. Be very sure that he does not think I do. Yes, um, no, thank you Aunt Polly. Exalted Pollyanna as she flew through the door. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15. Dr. Chilton. The great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when she made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows were open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the backyard, and the doctor's gigs stood under the Port Couchere. As before, Pollyanna went to the side door. This time she rang the bell. Her fingers were not stiff today from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys. A familiar looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her. But there was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the clothes opened the door. If you please, I've brought some calf's foot jelly from Mr. Pendleton. smiled Pollyanna. Thank you, said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girl's hand. Who shall I say sent it, and it's calf's foot jelly? The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the woman's words and saw the disappointed look on Pollyanna's face. He stepped quickly forward. Ah, some calf's foot jelly? He asked genially. That will be fine. Maybe you'd like to see our patient, eh? Oh yes, sir, beamed Pollyanna. And the woman, in obedience to a nod from the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with vast surprise on her face. Behind the doctor, a young man, a trained nurse from the nearest city, gave a disturbed exclamation. But doctor, didn't Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit anyone? Oh yes, nodded the doctor imperturbably. But I'm giving the orders now. I'll take the risk. Then he added whimsically. You don't know, of course, but that little girl is better than a six-court bottle of tonic any day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, she can. That's why I sent her in. Who is she? For one brief moment, the doctor hesitated. She's the niece of one of our best-known residents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. I don't happen to enjoy a very extensive personal acquaintance with the little ladies yet. But lots of my patients do, I'm thankful to say. The nurse smiled. Indeed. And what are the special ingredients of this wonder-working tonic of hers? The doctor shook his head. I don't know. As near as I can find out, it is an overwhelming, unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to happen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated to me. And as near as I can make out, just being glad is the tenor of most of them. All is, he added, with another whimsical smile as he stepped out onto the porch. I wish I could prescribe her, and buy her, as I would a box of pills. Though if there gets to be many of her in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and ditch-digging for all the money we'd get out of nursing and doctoring. She laughed, picking up the reins and stepping into the gig. Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor's orders, was being escorted to John Pendleton's rooms. Her way led through the Great Library at the end of the hall. And rapid as was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw it once that great changes had taken place. The blind walls and the crimson curtains were the same, but there was no litter on the floor, no untightiness on the desk, and not so much as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card hung in its proper place, and the brass and irons had been polished. One of the mysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the way. A moment later, Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished bedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice, If you please, sir, here's a little girl with some jelly. The doctor said I was to... to bring her in? The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking man lying flat on his back in bed. See here, didn't I say? began an angry voice. Oh, it's you. It broke off, not very graciously, as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed. Yes, sir, smiled Pollyanna. Oh, I'm so glad they let me in. You see, at first the lady most took my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn't going to see you at all. Then the doctor came, and he said I might. Wasn't he lovely to let me see you? In spite of himself, the man's lips twitched into a smile, but all he said was, Ugh. And I've brought you some jelly, resumed Pollyanna. Caps foot. I hope you like it. There was a rising inflection in her voice. Leverated. The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back to the man's face. For a brief instant Pollyanna's countenance showed disappointment, but it cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down. Didn't you? Well, if you didn't, then you can't know you don't like it anyhow, can you? So I reckon I'm glad you haven't after all. Now, if you knew... Yes, yes. Well, there's one thing I know all right, and that is that I'm flat on my back right here this minute, and that I'm liable to stay here till doomsday, I guess. Pollyanna looked shocked. Oh no, it couldn't be till doomsday, you know, when the angel Gabriel blows his trumpet, unless it should come quicker than we think it will. Oh, of course I know the Bible says it may come quicker than we think, but I don't think it will. That is, of course I believe the Bible, but, I mean, I don't think it will come as much quicker as it would if it should come now, and... John Pendleton laughed suddenly. And allowed. The nurse, coming in at that moment, heard the laugh, and Bita hurried, but a very silent retreat. He had the air of a fighting cook, who, seeing the danger of a breath of cold air striking a half-done cake, hastily shuts the oven door. Aren't you getting a little mixed? asked John Pendleton of Pollyanna. The little girl laughed. Maybe, but what I mean is that lengths don't last, broken ones, you know, like lifelong invalids as Mrs. Snow has got, so yours won't last till doomsday at all. I should think you could be glad of that. Oh, I am, retorted the man grimly. And you didn't break but one, you can be glad to hasn't two. Pollyanna was warming to her task. Of course, so fortunate, sniffed the man with uplifted eyebrows. Looking at it from that standpoint, I suppose I might be glad I wasn't a centipede and didn't break fifty. Pollyanna chuckled. Oh, that's the best yet, she crowed. You know what a centipede is, they've got lots of legs and you can be glad. Oh, of course. Interrupted the man sharply, all the old bitterness coming back to his voice. I can be glad too for all the rest I suppose, the nurse and the doctor and that confounded woman in the kitchen. Well, yes sir, only think how bad it would be if you didn't have them. And you lying here like this. As if that wasn't the very thing that was at the bottom of the whole matter. Retorted the man testily. Because I am lying here like this. And yet you expect me to say I'm glad because of a fool woman who disarranged me. And yet you expect me to say I'm glad because of a fool woman who disarranges the whole house and calls it regulating. And a man who aids in a betzer in it and calls it nursing to say nothing of the doctor who eggs them both on. And the whole bunch of them meanwhile expecting me to pay them for it and pay them well too. Pollyanna frowned sympathetically. Yes, I know. That part is too bad. About the money. When you've been saving it too all this time. When? Saving it. Buying beans and fish balls, you know. Say, do you like beans or do you like turkey better only on account of the sixty cents? Look here child, what are you talking about? Pollyanna smiled radiantly. About your money, you know. Denying yourself and saving it for the heathen. You see, I found out about it. Why Mr. Pendleton, that's one of the ways I knew you weren't cross inside. Nancy told me. The man's jaw dropped. Nancy told you I was saving money for the... Well, may I inquire who Nancy is? Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly. Aunt Polly? Well, who is Aunt Polly? She's Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her. The man made a sudden movement. Miss Polly Harrington? He breathed. You live with her? Yes. I'm her niece. She's taken me to bring up on account of my mother, you know. Faulted Pollyanna in a low voice. She was her sister, and after father went to be with her and the rest of us in heaven, there wasn't anyone left for me down here but the lady's aide. So she took me in. The man did not answer. His face, as he lay back on the pillow now, was very white. So white that Pollyanna was frightened. She rose uncertainly to her feet. I reckon maybe I'd better go now, she proposed. I... I hope you'll like the jelly. The man turned his head suddenly and opened his eyes. There was a curious longing in their dark depths, which even Pollyanna saw, and at which she marveled. And so you are... Miss Polly Harrington's niece. He said gently. Yes, sir. Still the man's dark eyes lingered on her face. Until Pollyanna, feeling vaguely restless, murmured, I suppose you know her? John Pendleton's lips curved in an odd smile. Oh yes, I know her. He hesitated, then went on still with that curious smile. But you don't mean... you can't mean that it was Miss Polly Harrington who sent that jelly to me. He said slowly. Pollyanna looked distressed. No, sir. She didn't. She said I must be very sure not to let you think she did send it. But I... I thought as much. Vouch safe the man shortly, turning away his head. And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room. Under the port-cauchère she found the doctor waiting in his gig. The nurse stood on the steps. Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure of seeing you home? Asked the doctor smilingly. I started to drive on a few minutes ago. Then it occurred to me that I'd wait for you. Thank you, sir. I'm glad you did. I just love to ride. Beamed Pollyanna as he reached out his hand to help her in. Do you? smiled the doctor, nodding his head in farewell to the young man on the steps. Well, as near as I can judge, there were a good many things you'd love to do, eh? He added as they drove briskly away. Pollyanna laughed. Why, I don't know. I reckon perhaps there are, she admitted. I like to do most everything that's living. Of course, I don't like the other things very well. Sewing and reading out loud and all that. But they aren't living. No? What are they then? Aunt Polly says they're learning to live. sighed Pollyanna with a rueful smile. The doctor smiled now, a little queerly. Does she? Well, I should think she might save. Just that. Yes, responded Pollyanna. But I don't see it that way at all. I don't think you have to learn how to live. I didn't anyhow. The doctor drew a long sigh. After all, I'm afraid some of us do have to, little girl. He said. Then for a time he was silent. Pollyanna, stealing a glance at his face, felt vaguely sorry for him. He looked so sad. She wished uneasily that she could do something. It was this, perhaps, that caused her to say in a timid voice, Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would be the very gladdest kind of a business there was. The doctor turned in surprise. Gladdest? When I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go. He cried. She nodded. I know, but you're helping it. You see? And of course, you're glad to help it. And so that makes you the gladdest of any of us all the time. The doctor's eyes filled with sudden, hot tears. The doctor's life was a singularly lonely one. He had no wife and no home save his two room office in a boarding house. His profession was very dear to him. Looking now into Pollyanna's shining eyes, he felt as if a loving hand had been suddenly laid on his head in blessing. He knew, too, that never again would a long day's work or a long night's weariness be quite without that newfound exultation that had come to him through Pollyanna's eyes. God bless you, little girl. He said unsteadily. Then with the bright smile his patients knew and loved so well, he added. And I'm thinking, after all, that it was the doctor quite as much as his patients that needed a draft of that tonic. All of which puzzled Pollyanna very much until a chipmunk running across the road drove the whole matter from her mind. The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, who was sweeping off the front porch, then drove rapidly away. I've had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor, announced Pollyanna, bounding up the steps. He's lovely, Nancy. Is he? Yes, and I told him I should think his business would be the very gladdest one there was. What? Going to see sick folks? And folks what ain't sick but thinks they is, which is worse? Nancy's face showed open skepticism. Pollyanna laughed gleefully. Yes, that's most what he said, too. But there is a way to be glad, even then. Yes! Nancy frowned in meditation. Nancy was getting so she could play this game of being glad quite successfully, she thought. She rather enjoyed studying out Pollyanna's posers, too, as she called some of the little girl's questions. Oh, I know, she chuckled. It's just the opposite from what you told Miss Snow. Opposite? Repeated Pollyanna, obviously puzzled. Yes, you told her she could be glad because other folks wasn't like her, all sick, you know. Yes, not at Pollyanna. Well, the doctor can be glad because he isn't like other folks. The sick ones, I mean, what he doctors. Finished Nancy in triumph. It was Pollyanna's turn to frown. Why, yes. She admitted. Of course, that is one way, but it isn't the way I said, and some way I don't seem to quite like the sound of it. It isn't exactly as if he said he was glad they were sick, but... You do play the game so funny sometimes, Nancy. She sighed as she went into the house. Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room. Who was that man? The one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna. Questioned the lady a little sharply. Well, yeah, Polly, that was Dr. Chilton. Don't you know him? Dr. Chilton? What was he doing here? He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and Miss Polly lifted her head quickly. Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it. Oh, no, Aunt Polly, I told him you didn't. Miss Polly grew a sudden, vivid pink. You told him I didn't? Pollyanna opened wide her eyes at the remonstrative dismay in her aunt's voice. Why, Aunt Polly, you said too. Aunt Polly sighed. I said, Pollyanna, that I did not send it and for you to be very sure that he did not think I did, which is a very different matter from telling him outright that I did not send it. And she turned vexedly away. Dear me, well, I don't see where the difference is. sighed Pollyanna as she went to hang her hat on the one particular hook in the house upon which Aunt Polly had said that it must be hung. End of Chapter 15 Recording by the Story Girl Chapter 16 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by the Story Girl Chapter 16 A Red Rose and a Lace Shaw It was on a rainy day, about a week after Pollyanna's visit to Mr. John Pendleton, that Miss Polly was driven by Timothy to an early afternoon committee meeting of the Lady's Aid Society. When she returned at three o'clock, her cheeks were a bright, pretty pink and her hair, blown by the damp wind, had fluffed into kinks and curls as the loosened pins had given leave. Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this. Oh, oh, wait Aunt Polly, you've got him too! She cried rapturously, dancing round and round her aunt as that lady entered the sitting room. Got what, you impossible child? Pollyanna was still revolving round and round her aunt. They never knew you had him. Can folks have him when you don't know they've got him? Do you suppose I could, before I get to heaven, I mean? She cried, pulling out with eager fingers the straight locks above her ears. But then they wouldn't be black if they did come. You can't hide the black part. Pollyanna, what does all this mean? Demanded Aunt Polly, hurriedly removing her hat and trying to smooth back her disordered hair. No, no, please Aunt Polly. Pollyanna's jubilant voice turned to one of distressed appeal. Don't smooth them out. It's those that I'm talking about. Those darling little black curls. Oh Aunt Polly, they're so pretty. Nonsense. What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the ladies' aid the other day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy? But it isn't nonsense, urged Pollyanna, answering only the first of her aunt's remarks. You don't know how pretty you look with your hair like that. Oh Aunt Polly, please. Mayn't I do your hair like I did Mrs. Snow's and put in a flower? I'd so love to see you that way. Why, you'd be ever so much prettier than she was. Pollyanna. Miss Polly spoke very sharply, all the more sharply because Pollyanna's words had given her an odd throb of joy when before had anybody cared how she or her hair looked when before had anybody loved to see her pretty. Pollyanna, you did not answer my question. Why did you go to the ladies' aid in that absurd fashion? Yes, I know, but please, I didn't know it was absurd until I went and found out they'd rather see their report grow than Jimmy. So then I wrote to my ladies' aiders because Jimmy is far away from them, you know, and I thought maybe he could be their little India boy, Seema's... Aunt Polly, was I your little India girl? Aunt Polly, you will let me do your hair, won't you? Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat. That old helpless feeling was upon her, she knew. But Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to them, I was so ashamed, I... Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes. You didn't! You didn't say I couldn't do your hair! She crowed triumphantly. And so I'm sure it means just the other way round, sort of. Like it did the other day about Mr. Pendleton's jelly that you didn't send. But didn't want me to say you didn't send, you know. No, wait, just where you are. I'll get a comb. But Pollyanna, Pollyanna! Ramonster did Aunt Polly, following the little girl from the room and panting upstairs after her. Oh, did you come up here? Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss Polly's own room. That'll be nicer yet. I've got the comb. Now sit down, please, right here. Oh, I'm so glad you let me do it. But Pollyanna, I... I... Miss Polly did not finish her sentence. To her helpless amazement, she found herself in the low chair before the dressing table, with her hair already tumbling about her ears under ten, eager, but very gentle fingers. Oh, my! What pretty hair you've got, prattled Pollyanna. And there's so much more of it than Mrs. Snow has, too. But, of course, you need more anyhow, because you're well and can go to places where folks can see it. My, I reckon folks will be glad when they do see it. And surprised, too, because you've hid it so long. Why, Aunt Polly, I'll make you so pretty. Everybody'll just love to look at you. Pollyanna gasped a stifled but shocked voice from a veil of hair. I... I'm sure I don't know why I'm letting you do this silly thing. Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you'd be glad to have folks like to look at you. Don't you like to look at pretty things? I'm ever so much happier when I look at pretty folks, because when I look at the other kind, I'm so sorry for them. But... but... and I just love to do folks hair, purred Pollyanna, contendedly. I did quite a lot of the ladies' aiders, but there wasn't any of them so nice as yours. Mrs. White's was pretty nice, though, and she looked just lovely one day when I dressed her up in... Oh, Aunt Polly, I've just happened to think of something. But it's a secret and I shan't tell. Now your hair is almost done. I'm pretty quick. I'm going to leave you just a minute and you must promise, promise, promise not to stir nor peek even till I come back. Now remember, she finished as she ran from the room. Allowed, Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she said that of course she should at once undo the absurd work of her niece's fingers and put her hair up properly again. As for peeking, just as if she cared how... At that moment, unaccountably, Miss Polly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dressing table. And what she saw sent such a flush of rosy colour to her cheeks that she only flushed the more at the sight. She saw a face, not young, it is true, but just now a light with excitement and surprise. The cheeks were a pretty pink. The eyes sparkled. The hair, dark and still damp from the outdoor air lay in loose waves about the forehead and curved back over the ears and wonderfully becoming lines with softening little curls here and there. So amazed and so absorbed was Miss Polly with what she saw in the glass that she quite forgot her determination to do over her hair until she heard Pollyanna enter the room again. Before she could move then she felt a folded something slipped across her eyes and tied in the back. Pollyanna! Pollyanna! What are you doing? She cried. Pollyanna chuckled. That's just what I don't want you to know Aunt Polly and I was afraid you would peek so I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit still. It won't take but just a minute. Then I'll let you see. Pollyanna! began Miss Polly struggling blindly to her feet. You must take this off. You... child! Child! What are you doing? She gasped as she felt a soft something slipped about her shoulders. Pollyanna only chuckled the morg leafily. With trembling fingers she was draping about her aunt's shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful lace shawl yellowed from long years of packing away and fragrant with lavender. Pollyanna had found the shawl the week before when Nancy had been regulating the attic and it had occurred to her today that there was no reason why her aunt as well as Mrs. White of her western home should not be dressed up. Her task completed Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that approved but that saw yet one touch wanting. Promptly therefore she pulled her aunt toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated red rose blooming on the trellis within reach of her hand. Pollyanna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to? Recoiled Aunt Polly vainly trying to hold herself back Pollyanna, I shall not. It's just to the sun parlor. Only a minute. I'll have you ready now quicker in no time. Panted Pollyanna reaching for the rose and thrusting it into the soft hair above Miss Polly's left ear. There! She exalted untying the knot of the handkerchief and flinging the bit of linen far from her. Oh Aunt Polly No, I reckon you'll be glad I dressed you up. For one dazed moment Miss Polly looked at her bedecked self and at her surroundings. Then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna, following the direction of her aunt's last dismayed gaze saw through the open windows of the sun parlor the horse and gig turning into the driveway. She recognized at once the man who held the reins. Delightedly she leaned forward. Dr. Chilton! Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me? I'm up here. Yes! smiled the doctor a little gravely. Will you come down please? In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced angry-eyed woman plucking at the pins that held a lace shawl in place. Pollyanna, how could you? moaned the woman. To think of your rigging me up like this and then letting me be seen. Pollyanna stopped in dismay. But you looked lovely. Perfectly lovely Aunt Pollyanna. Lovely! scorned the woman flinging the shawl to one side and attacking her hair with shaking fingers. Oh Aunt Polly, please! Please let the hair stay. Stay? Like this? As if I would. And Miss Polly pulled the lock so tightly back that the last curl lay stretched dead at the end of her fingers. Oh dear. And you did look so pretty. Almost sobbed Pollyanna as she stumbled through the door. Downstairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting in his gig. I've prescribed you for a patient and he sent me to get the prescription filled. Announced the doctor. Will you go? You mean an errand to the drugstore? Asked Pollyanna a little uncertainly. I used to go some for the lady's aiders. The doctor shook his head with a smile. Not exactly. It's Mr. John Pendleton. You would like to see you today if you'll be so good as to come. It stopped raining so I drove down after you. Will you come? I'll call for you and bring you back before six o'clock. I'd love to! exclaimed Pollyanna. Let me ask Aunt Polly. In a few moments she returned, had in hand, but with rather a sober face. Didn't your aunt want you to go? Asked the doctor a little diffidently as they drove away. Yes, sighed Pollyanna. She... She wanted me to go too much I'm afraid. Wanted you to go too much? Pollyanna sighed again. Yes. I reckoned she meant she didn't want me there. You see, she said, Yes, yes, run along, run along, do. I wish you'd gone before. The doctor smiled, but with his lips only. His eyes were very grave. For some time he said nothing. Then, a little hesitatingly, he asked, Wasn't it your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago? In the window of the sun parlor? Pollyanna drew a long breath. Yes, that's what's the whole trouble I suppose. You see, I dressed her up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl I found upstairs. And I'd fixed her hair and put on a rose and she looked so pretty. Didn't you think she looked just lovely? For a moment, the doctor did not answer. When he did speak, his voice was so low, Pollyanna could but just hear the words. Yes, Pollyanna, I... I thought she did look just lovely. Did you? I'm so glad, I'll tell her. Nodded the little girl, contendedly. To her surprise, the doctor gave a sudden exclamation. Never! Pollyanna, I... I'm afraid I shall have to ask you not to tell her that. Why, Dr. Chilton? Why not? I should think you'd be glad. But she might not be. Cut in the doctor. Pollyanna considered this for a moment? That's so. Maybe she wouldn't, she sighed. I remember now. It was because she saw you that she ran and she... She spoke afterwards about her being seen in that rig. I thought as much. Declared the doctor under his breath. Still, I don't say why, maintained Pollyanna. When she looked so pretty. The doctor said nothing. He did not speak again, indeed, until they were almost to the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a broken leg. End of Chapter 16 Recording by The Story Girl Chapter 17 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 17 Just like a book. John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna today with a smile. Well, Miss Pollyanna, I'm thinking you must be a very forgiving little person else you wouldn't have come to see me again today. Well, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come and I'm sure I don't see why I shouldn't be either. Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I'm afraid. Both the other day when you so kindly brought me the jelly and that time when you found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don't think I've ever thanked you for that. Now I'm sure that even you would admit that you were very forgiving to come and see me after such ungrateful treatment as that. Pollyanna stirred uneasily. But I was glad to find you. That is, I don't mean I was glad your leg was broken, of course. She corrected hurriedly. John Pendleton smiled. I understand. Your tongue does get away with you once in a while, doesn't it, Miss Pollyanna? I do thank you, however, and I consider you a very brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for the jelly, too. He added in a lighter voice. Did you like it? asked Pollyanna with interest. Very much. I suppose there isn't any more today that Aunt Polly didn't send, is there? He asked with an odd smile. His visitor looked distressed. No, sir. She hesitated, then went on with heightened color. Please, Mr. Pendleton, I didn't mean to be rude the other day when I said Aunt Polly did not send the jelly. There was no answer. John Pendleton was not smiling now. He was looking straight ahead of him, with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and beyond the object before them. After a time, he drew a long sigh and turned to Pollyanna. When he spoke, his voice carried the old nervous breathfulness. Well, well, this will never do at all. I didn't send for you to see me moping this time. Listen, out in the library, the big room where the telephone is, you know, you will find a carved box on the lower shelf of the big case with glass doors in the corner not far from the fireplace. That is, it'll be there if that confounded woman hasn't regulated it to somewhere else. You may bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too heavy for you to carry, I think. Oh, I'm awfully strong," declared Pollyanna cheerfully as she sprang to her feet. In a minute, she had returned with the box. It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was full of treasures, curios that John Pendleton had picked up in years of travel, and concerning each, there was some entertaining story, whether it were a set of exquisitely carved chessmen from China or little jade idol from India. It was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna murmured wistfully. Well, I suppose it would be better to take a little boy in India to bring up one that didn't know any more than to think that God was in that doll thing than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who knows God is up in the sky. Still, I can't help wishing they had wanted Jimmy Bean too, besides the India boys. John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again, his eyes were staring straight before him, looking at nothing. But soon he had roused himself and had picked up another curio to talk about. The visit, certainly, was a delightful one. But before it was over, Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides the wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life. They were talking too, even of the life and home long ago in the far western town. Not until it was nearly time for her to go did the man say, in a voice Pollyanna had never before heard from stern John Pendleton, Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you? I'm lonesome and I need you. There's another reason, and I'm going to tell you that too. I thought at first, after I found out who you were the other day, that I didn't want you to come anymore. You reminded me of something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said to myself that I never wanted to see you again. And every day when the doctor asked if I wouldn't let him bring you to me, I said no. But after a time, I found I was wanting to see you so much, that the fact that I wasn't seeing you was making me remember all the more vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So now I want you to come. Will you, little girl? Why yes, Mr. Pendleton, breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with sympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her. I'd love to come. Thank you, said John Pendleton gently. After supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton's wonderful carved box and the still more wonderful things it contained. And to think, sighed Nancy, that he showed you all them things and told you about them like that. Him that's so cross, he never talks to no one. No one. Oh, but he isn't cross, Nancy. Only outside. Demured Pollyanna with quick loyalty. I don't see why everybody thinks he's so bad either. They wouldn't if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly doesn't like him very well. She wouldn't send the jelly to him, you know. And she was so afraid he'd think she did send it. Probably she didn't call him no duty, shrugged Nancy. But what beats me is how he happened to take to you so, Miss Pollyanna. I mean, no offense to you, of course, but he ain't the sort of man what generally takes to kids. He ain't, he ain't. Pollyanna smiled happily. But he did, Nancy, she nodded. Only I reckon even he didn't want to. All the time. Why, only today he owned up that one time he just felt he never wanted to see me again. Because I reminded him of something he wanted to forget. But afterwards, what's that? Interrupted Nancy excitedly. He said you reminded him of something he wanted to forget? Yes, but afterwards, what was it? Nancy was eagerly insistent. He didn't tell me. He just said it was something. The mystery breathed Nancy in an awestruck voice. That's why he took to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna, why, that's just like a book. I've read lots of them. Lady Mod's secret and The Lost Air. And hidden for years. All of them had mysteries and things just like this. My stars and stockings. Just think of having a book lived right under your nose like this and me not knowing at all this time. Now tell me everything. Everything he said, Miss Pollyanna, there's a deer. No wonder he took to you. No wonder, no wonder. But he didn't, cried Pollyanna. Not till I talked to him first. And he didn't even know who I was till I took the calf's foot jelly and had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn't send it and... Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly. Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know, I know, I know. She exalted rapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna's side again. Tell me, now think, an answer straight and true. She urged excitedly. It was after he found out you was Miss Polly's niece that he said he didn't ever want to see you again, wanted? Oh, yes, I told him that the last time I saw him and he told me this today. I thought as much, triumphed Nancy. And Miss Polly wouldn't send the jelly herself, would she? No. And you told him she didn't send it? Well, yes, I... and he began to act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you was her niece. He did that, didn't he? Why, yes, he did act a little queer over that jelly, admitted Pollyanna with a thoughtful frown. Nancy drew a long sigh. Then I've got it sure. Now listen, Mr. John Pendleton was Miss Polly Harrington's lover. She announced impressively, but with a furtive glance over her shoulder. Nancy? He couldn't be. She doesn't like him, objected Pollyanna. Nancy gave her a scornful glance. Of course she don't. That's the quarrel. Pollyanna still looked incredulous. And with another long breath, Nancy happily settled herself to tell the story. It's like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had had a lover once. I didn't believe it. I couldn't. Her and a lover? But Mr. Tom said she had and that he was living now right in this town. And now I know, of course. It's John Pendleton. Ain't he got a mystery in his life? Don't he shut himself up in that grand house alone and never speak to no one? Didn't he act queer when he found out you was Miss Polly's niece? And now, ain't he owned up that you remind him of something he wants to forget? Just as if anybody couldn't see it was Miss Polly. And her saying she wouldn't send him no jelly too. It is Pollyanna. It's as plain as the nose on your face it is, it is. Oh. Breathed Pollyanna and wide-eyed amazement. But Nancy, I should think if they loved each other, they'd make up some time. Both of them all alone so? All these years? I should think they'd be glad to make up. Nancy sniffed disdainfully. I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You ain't big enough yet anyhow. But if there is a set of folks in the world that wouldn't have no use for that air-glad game of yours, it'd be a pair of coral and lovers. And that's what they be. Ain't he crosses sticks most generally? And ain't she? Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom and about whom she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled. I ain't sayin' though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty slick piece of business if you could get them to play in it. So they would be glad to make up. But my land wouldn't folks stare some? Miss Polly and him? I guess, though, there ain't much chance, much chance. Pollyanna said nothing. But when she went into the house a little later, her face was very thoughtful. End of Chapter 17. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 18 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 18. Prisms. As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her visits were really a success. Not what but the man seemed to want her there, he sent for her indeed frequently. But that when she was there, he seemed scarcely any the happier for her presence, at least so Pollyanna thought. He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and beautiful things, books, pictures, and curios. But he still fretted audibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under the rules and regulations of the unwelcome members of his household. He did indeed seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna talked. Pollyanna liked to talk. But she was never sure that she would not look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white, hurt look that always pained her. She was never sure which, if any, of her words had brought it there. As for telling him the glad game and trying to get him to play it, Pollyanna had never seen the time yet when she thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice tried to tell him, but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of what her father had said. Pollyanna had, on each occasion, turned the conversation abruptly to another subject. Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Polly's one-time lover. And with all the strength of her loving, loyal heart, she wished she could, in some way, bring happiness into their, to her mind, miserably lonely lives. Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her Aunt. And he listened, sometimes politely, sometimes irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her Aunt about Mr. Pendleton. Or rather, she tried to talk to her about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would not listen long. She always found something else to talk about. She frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of others. Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this, though, to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun-parler with the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly indeed seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house. If you are not better by night, I shall send for the doctor, Aunt Polly said. Shall you? Then I'm going to get worse, gurgled Pollyanna. I'd love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me. She wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt's face. It will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna, Miss Polly said sternly. Dr. Chilton is not our family physician. I shall send for Dr. Warren, if you are worse. Pollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. Warren was not summoned. And I'm so glad, too. Pollyanna said to her aunt that evening, Of course, I like Dr. Warren and all that, but I like Dr. Chilton better, and I'm afraid he'd feel hurt if I didn't have him. You see, he wasn't really to blame, after all, that he happened to see you when I dressed you up so pretty that day, Aunt Polly. She finished wistfully. That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr. Chilton. Or his feelings. Reproved Miss Polly decisively. Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes. Then she sighed, I just love to see you when your cheeks are pink like that, Aunt Polly. But I would so like to fix your hair if white Aunt Polly? But her aunt was already out of sight down the hall. It was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, making an early morning call on John Pendleton, found the flaming band of blue and gold and green edged with red and violet lying across his pillow. She stopped short an odd delight. Why, Mr. Pendleton, it's a baby rainbow. A real rainbow come in to pay you a visit. She exclaimed, clapping her hands together softly. It is. But how did it get in? She cried. The man laughed a little grimly. John Pendleton was particularly out of sorts with the world this morning. Well, I suppose it got in through the beveled edge of that glass thermometer window, he said wearily. The sun shouldn't strike it at all, but it does in the morning. Oh, but it's so pretty, Mr. Pendleton. And does just the sun do that? My, if it was mine, I'd have it hang in the sun all day long. Lots of good you'd get out of the thermometer, then. Laughed the man. How do you suppose you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was if the thermometer hung in the sun all day? I shouldn't care, breathed Pollyanna. Her fascinated eyes on the brilliant band of colors across the pillow. Just as if anybody'd care when they were living all the time in a rainbow. The man laughed. He was watching Pollyanna's wrapped face a little curiously. Suddenly a new thought came to him. He touched the bell at his side. Laura, he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door. Bring me one of the big brass candlesticks from the mantel in the front drawing room. Yes, sir, murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed. In a minute she had returned. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced wonderingly toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants encircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand. Thank you. You may set it here on the stand. Directed the man. Now get a string and fasten it to the sash curtain fixtures of that window there. Take down the sash curtain and let the string reach straight across the window from side to side. That will be all. Thank you. He said when she had carried out his directions. As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering Pollyanna. Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna. With both hands she brought it and in a moment ripping off the pendants one by one until they lay a round dozen of them side by side on the bed. Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string nor a fixed across the window. If you really want to live in a rainbow I don't see but will have to have a rainbow for you to live in. Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window before she saw little of what was going to happen. She was so excited then she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up the rest. But at last her task was finished and she stepped back with a low cry of delight. It had become a fairyland. That sumptuous but dreary bedroom. Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, golden blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture even to the bed itself were a flame with shimmering bits of color. Oh, oh how lovely. Breathed Pollyanna. Then she laughed suddenly. I just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, don't you? She cried. Forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talking about. Oh how I wish I had a lot of those things. How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow and lots of folks. I reckon then they'd be glad alright. Why I think even Aunt Polly'd get so glad she couldn't help banging doors if she lived in a rainbow like that. Don't you? Mr. Pendleton laughed. Well from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I think it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight to make her bang many doors for gladness. But come now, really. What do you mean? Pollyanna stared slightly. Then she drew a long breath. Oh I forgot. You don't know about the game. I remember now. Suppose you tell me then. And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from the very first from the crutches that should have been a doll. As she talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the dancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlight window. And that's all, she sighed when she had finished. And now you know why I said the sun was trying to play it. That game. For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said unsteadily. Perhaps. But I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is yourself, Pollyanna. Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. Pendleton. Don't you? Smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face wondered why there were tears in his eyes. No, she said. Then after a minute, she outed mournfully. I'm afraid, Mr. Pendleton, the sun doesn't make anything but freckles out of me. Aunt Polly says it does make them. The man laughed a little and again Pollyanna looked at him. The laugh had sounded almost like a sob. End of Chapter 18. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 19 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 19. Which is somewhat surprising. Pollyanna entered school in September. Preliminary examinations showed that she was well advanced for a girl of her years and she was soon a happy member of a class of girls and boys her own age. School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna. And Pollyanna certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt, Pollyanna confessed that going to school was living after all, though she had had her doubts before. In spite of her delight and her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of course, but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton of them all, however, was the most dissatisfied. One Saturday afternoon, he spoke to her about it. See here, Pollyanna. How would you like to come and live with me? He asked, a little impatiently. I don't see anything of you nowadays. Pollyanna laughed. Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man. I thought you didn't like to have folks around, she said. He made a wry face. Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of yours. Now I'm glad to be waited on, and and foot. Never mind, I'll be on my own two feet yet, one of these days. Then I'll see who steps round. He finished, picking up one of the crutches at his side and shaking it playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great library today. Oh, but you aren't really glad at all for those things. You just say you are, pouted Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog dozing before the fire. You know you don't play the game right ever, Mr. Pendleton. You know you don't. The man's face grew suddenly very grave. That's why I want you, little girl, to help me play it. Will you come? Pollyanna turned in surprise. Mr. Pendleton, you don't really mean that. But I do. I want you. Will you come? Pollyanna looked distressed. Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can't. You know I can't. Why, I'm Aunt Polly's. A quick something crossed the man's face that Pollyanna could not quite understand. His head came up almost fiercely. You're no more hers than perhaps she would let you come to me. He finished more gently. Would you come? If she did? Pollyanna frowned in deep thought. But Aunt Polly has been so good to me. She began slowly. And she took me in when I didn't have anybody left but the lady's aid. Again, that spasm of something crossed the man's face. But this time, when he spoke, his voice was low and very sad. Pollyanna, long years ago, I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring her someday to this house. I pictured how happy we'd be together in our home. All the long years to come. Yes, pitied Pollyanna. Her eyes shining with sympathy. But, well, I didn't bring her here. Never mind why. I just didn't, that's all. And ever since then, this great grey pile of stone has been a house. Never a home. It takes a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence to make a home, Pollyanna. And I have not had either. Now will you come, my dear? Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined. Mr. Pendleton, you mean that you wish you had that woman's hand and heart all this time? Why, yes, Pollyanna. Oh, I'm so glad. Then it's all right, sighed the little girl. Oh, I'm so glad. Then it's all right, sighed the little girl. Now you can take us both and everything will be lovely. Take you both, repeated the man daisily. A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna's countenance. Well, of course Aunt Polly isn't won over yet, but I'm sure she will be if you tell it to her just as you did to me, and then we'd both come, of course. A look of actual terror leapt to the man's eyes. And Polly come here. Pollyanna's eyes widened a little. Would you rather go there? She asked. Of course the house isn't quite so pretty, but it's nearer. Pollyanna, what are you talking about? Asked the man very gently now. Why about where we're going to live, of course, rejoined Pollyanna, an obvious surprise. I thought you meant here at first. You said it was here that you had wanted Aunt Polly's hand and heart all these years to make a home, and an inarticulate cry came from the man's throat. He raised his hand and began to speak, but the next moment he dropped his hand nervously at his side. Doctor Sir said the maid in the doorway. Pollyanna rose at once. John Pendleton turned to her feverishly. Pollyanna, for heaven's sake, say nothing of what I asked you yet. He begged in a low voice. Pollyanna dimpled into a sunny smile. Of course not. Just as if I didn't know, you'd rather tell her yourself. He called back merrily over her shoulder. John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair. Why, what's up? demanded the doctor a minute later, his fingers on his patient's galloping paws. A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton's lips. Overdose of your tonic, I guess. As he noted the doctor's eyes following Pollyanna's little figure down the driveway. End of chapter 19. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 20 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 20, which is more surprising. Sunday mornings Pollyanna usually attended church and Sunday school. Sunday afternoons she frequently went for a walk with Nancy. She had planned one for the day after her Saturday afternoon visit to Mr. John Pendleton. But on the way home from Sunday school, Dr. Chilton overtook her in his gig and brought his horse to a stop. Suppose you let me drive you home, Pollyanna, he suggested. I want to speak to you a minute. I was just driving out to your place to tell you. He went on as Pollyanna settled herself at his side. Mr. Pendleton sent a special request for you to go see him this afternoon. Sure. He says it's very important. Pollyanna nodded happily. Yes, it is. I know. I'll go. The doctor eyed her with some surprise. I'm not sure I shall let you after all. He declared, his eyes twinkling. You seemed more upsetting than soothing yesterday, young lady. Pollyanna laughed. Oh, it wasn't me, truly. Not really, you know. Not so much as it was Aunt Polly. The doctor turned with a quick start. Your Aunt? He ejaculated. Pollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat. Yes, and it's so exciting and lovely. Just like a story, you know. I'm going to tell you, she burst out with sudden decision. He said not to mention it, but he wouldn't mind your knowing, of course. He said not to mention it to her. Her? Yes, Aunt Polly. And of course he would want to tell her himself instead of having me to do it. Lovers, so. Lovers. As the doctor said the word, the horse started violently, as if the hand that held the reins had given them a sharp jerk. Yes, nodded Pollyanna happily. That's the story part, you see. I didn't know it till Nancy told me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years ago, and they quarreled. She didn't know who it was at first, but we found out now. It's Mr. Pendleton, you know. The doctor relaxed suddenly. The hand holding the reins fell limply to his lap. Oh, no, I didn't know. He said quietly. Pollyanna hurried on. They were nearing the Harrington homestead. Yes, and I'm so glad now. It's come out lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked me to come and live with him. But of course I wouldn't leave Aunt Polly like that after she's been so good to me. Then he told me all about the woman's hand and heart that he used to want. And I found out that he wanted it now, and I was so glad. For of course if he wants to make up the quarrel, everything will be all right now. And Aunt Polly and I will both go to live there, or else he'll come to live with us. Of course Aunt Polly doesn't know yet, and we haven't got everything settled, so I suppose that is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure. The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips. Yes, I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendleton does want to see you, Pollyanna. He nodded as he pulled his horse to a stop before the door. There's Aunt Polly now in the window, cried Pollyanna. Then a second later, I know she isn't, but I thought I saw her. No, she isn't there now, said the doctor. His lips had suddenly lost their smile. Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that afternoon. Pollyanna, he began at once. I've been trying all night to puzzle out what you meant by all that yesterday. What about my wanting your Aunt Polly's hand and heart here all those years? What did you mean? Why, because you were lovers, you know, once, and I was so glad you still felt that way now. Lovers? Your Aunt Polly and I? At the obvious surprise in the man's voice, Pollyanna opened wide her eyes. Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were. The man gave a short little laugh. Indeed. Well, I'm afraid I shall have to say that Nancy didn't know. Then you weren't lovers? Pollyanna's voice was tragic with dismay. Never? And it isn't all coming out like a book? There was no answer. The man's eyes were moodily fixed out the window. Oh, dear. And it was all going so splendidly. Almost sobbed Pollyanna. I'd have been so glad to come with Aunt Polly. And you won't now? The man asked the question without turning his head. Of course not. I meant Polly's. The man turned now, almost fiercely. Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were your mother's. And it was your mother's hand and heart that I wanted long years ago. My mother's? Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it's better after all that I do, now. John Pendleton's face had grown very white. He was speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and frightened and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. I loved your mother, but she didn't love me. And after a time, she went away with your father. I did not know until then how much I did care. The whole world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers and, but never mind. For long years I have been a cross-crabbed, unlovable, unloved old man, though I'm not nearly sixty at Pollyanna. Then, one day, like one of the prisms that you love so well, little girl, you danced into my life and fled my dreary old world with dashes of the purple and gold and scarlet of your own bright cheeriness. I found out after a time who you were and I thought that I never wanted to see you again. I didn't want to be reminded of your mother. But you know how that came out. I just had to have you come. And now I want you always. Pollyanna, won't you come now? Pollyanna's eyes were blurred with tears. The man made an impatient gesture. What about me? How do you suppose I'm going to be glad about anything without you? Why Pollyanna, it's only since you came that I've been even half glad to live. But if I had you for my own little girl, I'd be glad for anything. And I'd try to make you glad, too, my dear. You shouldn't have a wish ungratified. All my money to the last cent should go to make you happy. Pollyanna looked shocked. Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me. All that money you saved for the heathen. A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna was still talking. Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as you have doesn't need me to make you glad about things. You're making other folks so glad giving them things that you just can't help being glad yourself. Wait, look at those prisms you gave Mrs. Snow and me. And the gold piece you gave Nancy on her birthday and... Yes, yes, never mind about all that, interrupted the man. His face was very, very red now. And no wonder, perhaps, it was not forgiving things that John Pendleton had been best known in the past. That's all nonsense. It wasn't much anyhow. But what there was was because of you. You gave those things, not I. Yes, you did. He repeated, an answer to the shocked denial in her face. And that only goes to prove all the more how I need you, little girl. He added, his voice softening into tender pleading once more. If ever, ever I am to play the glad game Pollyanna, you will have to come and play it with me. The little girl's forehead puckered into a wistful frown. And Polly has been so good to me. She began. But the man interrupted her sharply. The old irritability had come back to his face. Impatience, which would brook no opposition, had been a part of John Pendleton's nature too long to yield very easily now to restraint. Of course she's been good to you. But she doesn't want you, I'll warrant. Have so much as I do. He contested. Like Mr. Pendleton, she's glad I know to have... Glad. Interrupted the man, thoroughly losing his patience now. I'll wager Miss Polly doesn't know how to be glad for anything. Oh, she does her duty, I know. She's a very dutiful woman. I've had experience with her duty before. I'll acknowledge we haven't been the best of friends for the last 15 or 20 years, but I know her. Everyone knows her. And she isn't the glad kind, Pollyanna. She doesn't know how to be. As for your coming to me, you just ask her and see if she won't let you come. But, oh, little girl, little girl, I want you so. He finished brokenly. Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh. All right. I'll ask her, she said wistfully. Of course, I don't mean that I wouldn't like to live here with you, Mr. Pendleton, but... She did not complete her sentence. There was a moment's silence. Then she added, Well, anyhow, I'm glad I didn't tell her yesterday, because then I supposed she was wanted, too. John Pendleton smiled grimly. Well, yes, Pollyanna. I guess it is just as well you didn't mention it yesterday. I did it. Only to the doctor. And, of course, he doesn't count. The doctor? cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. Not Dr. Chilton? Yes. When he came to tell me you wanted to see me today, you know. Well, of all the... muttered the man, falling back in his chair. Then he sat up with sudden interest. And what did Dr. Chilton say? he asked. Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. I don't remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well imagine you did want to see me. Oh, did he indeed? answered John Pendleton. And Pollyanna wondered why he gave that sudden queer little laugh. End of Chapter 20. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 21 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by the Story Girl. Chapter 21. A question answered. The sky was darkening fast with what appeared to be an approaching thunder shower when Pollyanna hurried down the hill from John Pendleton's house. Halfway home, she met Nancy with an umbrella. By that time, however, the clouds had shifted their position and the shower was not so imminent. Guess it's going round to the north, announced Nancy, eyeing the sky critically. I thought it was all the time, but Miss Polly wanted me to come with this. She was worried about she. Was she? murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, eyeing the clouds in her turn. Nancy sniffed a little. You don't seem to notice what I said, she observed aggrievedly. I said your aunt was worried about you. Oh, sighed Pollyanna, remembering suddenly the question she was so soon to ask her aunt. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare her. Well, I'm glad, retorted Nancy unexpectedly. I am, I am. Pollyanna stared. Glad the aunt Polly was scared about me? Why, Nancy, that isn't the way to play the game. To be glad for things like that, she objected. They want no game in it, retorted Nancy. Never thought of it. You don't seem to sense what it means to have Miss Polly worried about your child. Why, it means worried. And worried is horrid to feel, maintained Pollyanna. What else can it mean? Nancy tossed her head. Well, I'll tell you what it means. It means she's at last getting down somewhere near human, like folks, and that she ain't just doing her duty by ye all the time. Nancy demurred the scandalized Pollyanna. Aunt Polly always does her duty. She, she's a very dutiful woman. Unconsciously, Pollyanna repeated John Pendleton's words of half an hour before. Nancy chuckled. You're right, she is. And she always was, I guess. But she's something more now since you came. Pollyanna's face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown. There, that's what I was going to ask you, Nancy. She sighed. Do you think Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mind if I wasn't here anymore? Nancy threw a quick look into the little girl's absorbed face. She had expected to be asked this question long before, and she had dreaded it. She had wondered how she should answer it, how she could answer it honestly without cruelly hurting the questioner. But now, now in the face of the new suspicions that had become convictions by the afternoon's umbrella-sending, Nancy only welcomed the question with open arms. She was sure that with a clean conscience today she could set the love-hungry little girl's heart at rest. Likes to have you here? Would she miss you if you want here? cried Nancy indignantly. As if that weren't just what I was telling of you. Didn't she send me post-haste with an umbrella because she could see a little cloud in the sky? Didn't she make me tote your things all downstairs so you could have the pretty room you wanted? Why, Miss Pollyanna, when you remember how at first she hated to have with a choking cough, Nancy pulled herself up just in time. And it ain't just things I can put my fingers on, neither, rushed on Nancy breathlessly. It's little ways she has that shows how you've been softening her up and mellowing her down. The cat and the dog and the way she speaks to me and, oh, lots of things. Why, Miss Pollyanna, there ain't no telling how she'd missy if you want here. Finished Nancy, speaking with an enthusiastic certainty that was meant to hide the perilous admission she had almost made before. Even then she was not quite prepared for the sudden joy that illumined Pollyanna's face. Oh, Nancy, I'm so glad. Glad, glad. You don't know how glad I am that Aunt Polly wants me. As if I'd leave her now, thought Pollyanna as she climbed the stairs to her room a little later. I always knew I wanted to live with Aunt Polly, but I reckon maybe I didn't know quite how much I wanted Aunt Polly to want to live with me. The task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an easy one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John Pendleton, and she was very sorry for him because he seemed to be so sorry for himself. She was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that had made him so unhappy and she was grieved that it had been because of her mother that he had spent those dreary years. She pictured the great grey house as it would be after its master was well again, with its silent rooms, its littered floors, its disordered desk, and her heart ached for his loneliness. She wished that somewhere, someone might be found who... And it was at this point that she sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy at the thought that had come to her. As soon as she could, after that, she hurried up the hill to John Pendleton's house, and in due time she found herself in the great, dim library, with John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, thin hands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and his faithful little dog at his feet. Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the glad game with me, all the rest of my life? Ask the man gently. Oh yes, cry Pollyanna, I've thought of the very gladest kind of a thing for you to do, and... With you? Asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern at the corners. No, but... Pollyanna, you aren't going to say no. Interrupted a voice deep with emotion. I... I've got to, Mr. Pendleton. Truly I have, and Polly... Did she refuse to let you come? I... I didn't ask her. Stammered the little girl miserably. Pollyanna. Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved gaze of her friend. So you didn't even ask her? I couldn't, sir. Truly, faltered Pollyanna. You see, I found out, without asking. Aunt Polly wants me with her, and... And I want to stay too. She confessed bravely. I don't know how good she's been to me, and... And I think, really, sometimes, she's beginning to be glad about things. Lots of things. And you know she never used to be. You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly now. There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke. No, Pollyanna. I see. You couldn't leave her. Now. He said. I won't ask you again. The last word was so low, it was almost inaudible. But Pollyanna heard. Oh, but you don't know about the rest of it. She reminded him eagerly. There's the very glottis thing you can do. Truly there is. Not for me, Pollyanna. Yes, sir. For you. You said it. You said only a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence could make a home. And I can get it for you. A child's presence. Not me, you know, but another one. As if I would have any but you. Resented an indignant voice. But you will when you know you're so kind and good. When you think of the prisms and the gold pieces and all that money you save for the heathen and... Pollyanna. Interrupted the man savagely. Once for all, let us end that nonsense. I've tried to tell you half a dozen times before. There is no money for the heathen. I never sent a penny to them in my life. There. He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he expected. The grieved disappointment of Pollyanna's eyes. To his amazement, however, there was neither grief nor disappointment in Pollyanna's eyes. There was only surprise joy. Oh, she cried, clapping her hands. I'm so glad. That is, she corrected, coloring distressfully. I don't mean that I'm not sorry for the heathen. Only just now I can't help being glad that you don't want the little India boys because all the rest have wanted them. And I'm so glad you'd rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you'll take him. Take who? Jimmy Bean. He is the child's presence, you know. And he'll be so glad to be it. I had to tell him last week that even my lady Zade out West wouldn't take him. And he was so disappointed. But now, when he hears of this, he'll be so glad. Will he? Well, I won't. Ejaculated the man decisively. Pollyanna, this is sheer nonsense. You don't mean he won't take him? I certainly do mean just that. The lovely child's presence, faltered Pollyanna. She was almost crying now. And you couldn't be lonesome with Jimmy Round? I don't doubt it, rejoined the man. But I think I prefer the lonesomeness. It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly remembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin aggrievantly. Maybe you think a nice, live little boy wouldn't be better than that old, dead skeleton you keep somewhere? But I think it would. Skeleton? Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet. Somewhere. Why, what? Suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed. He laughed very heartily indeed, so heartily that Pollyanna began to cry from pure nervousness. When he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very promptly. His face grew grave at once. Pollyanna, I suspect you are right. More right than you know, he said gently. In fact, I know that a nice, live little boy would be far better than my skeleton in the closet. Only, we aren't always willing to make the exchange. We are apt to still cling to our skeletons, Pollyanna. However, suppose you tell me a little more about this nice little boy? And Pollyanna told him. Perhaps the laugh cleared the air. Or perhaps the pathos of Jimmy Bean's story as told by Pollyanna's eager little lips touched a heart already strangely softened. At all events, when Pollyanna went home that night, she carried with her an invitation for Jimmy Bean himself to call at the Great House with Pollyanna the next Saturday afternoon. And I'm so glad, and I'm sure you'll like him, sighed Pollyanna as she said goodbye. I do so want Jimmy Bean to have a home. And folks that care, you know. Pollyanna told John Pendleton of Jimmy Bean the Reverend Paul Ford climbed the hill and entered the Pendleton Woods, hoping that the hushed beauty of God's out of doors would still the tumult that his children of men had wrought. The Reverend Paul Ford was sick at heart. Month by month, for a year past, conditions in the parish under him had been growing worse and worse, until it seemed that now, turn which way he would, he encountered only wrangling, backbiting, scandal and jealousy. He had argued, pleaded, rebuked and ignored by turns, and always and through all he had prayed, earnestly, hopefully. But today, miserably, he was forced to own that matters were no better, but rather worse. Two of his deacons were at sword's points over a silly something that only endless brooding had made of any account. Three of his most energetic women workers had withdrawn from the ladies aid society because a tiny spark of gossip had been fanned by wagging tongues into a devouring flame of scandal. The choir had split over the amount of solo work given to a fancily preferred singer. Even the Christian Endeavour Society was an affirmant of unrest owing to open criticism of two of its officers. As to the Sunday school, it had been the resignation of its superintendent and two of its teachers that had been the last straw, and that had sent the harassed minister to the quiet woods for prayer and meditation. Under the green arch of the trees, the Reverend Paul Ford faced the things squarely. To his mind, the crisis had come. Something must be done, and done at once. The entire work of the church was at a standstill. The Sunday services, the weekday prayer meeting, the missionary tease, even the suppers and socials were becoming less and less well attended. True, a few conscientious workers were still left, but they pooled at cross purposes usually, and always they showed themselves to be acutely aware of the critical eyes all about them and of the tongues that had nothing to do but to talk about what the eyes saw. And because of all this, the Reverend Paul Ford understood very well that he, God's minister, the church, the town, and even Christianity itself was suffering, and must suffer still more unless clearly something must be done and done at once. But what? Slowly the minister took from his pocket the notes he had made for his next Sunday sermon. Frowningly he looked at them. His mouth settled into stern lines, as allowed very impressively he read the verses on which he had determined to speak. But woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men, for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in. Woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye devour widows' houses, and for pretense make long prayer, therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation. Woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and common, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith. These ought ye, these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone, these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone. It was a bitter denunciation. In the green aisles of the woods, the minister's deep voice wrang out with scathing effect. Even the birds and squirrels seemed hushed into odd silence. It brought to the minister a vivid realization of how those words would sound the next Sunday when he should utter them before his people in the sacred hush of the church. His people. They were his people. Could he do it? Dare he do it? Dare he not do it? It was a fearful denunciation, even without the words that would follow, his own words. He had prayed and prayed. He had pleaded earnestly for help, for guidance. He longed. Oh, how earnestly he longed to take now in this crisis the right step. But was this the right step? Slowly the minister folded the papers and thrust them back into his pocket. Then, with a sigh that was almost moan, he flung himself down at the foot of a tree and covered his face with his hands. It was there that Pollyanna, on her way home from the Pendleton House, found him. With a little cry, she ran forward. Oh, oh, Mr. Ford, you haven't broken your leg or anything have you? She gasped. The minister dropped his hands and looked up quickly. He tried to smile. No, dear. No, indeed. I'm just resting. Oh, sighed Pollyanna, falling back a little. That's all right then. You see, Mr. Pendleton had broken his leg when I found him, but he was lying down, though, and you were sitting up. Yes, I am sitting up. And I haven't broken anything. The doctors commend. The last words were very low, but Pollyanna heard them. A swift change crossed her face. Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy. I know what you mean. Something plagues you. Father used to feel like that, lots of times. I reckon ministers do, most generally. You see, there's such a lot depends on them somehow. The Reverend Paul Ford turned a little wonderingly. Was your father a minister, Pollyanna? Yes, sir. Didn't you know? I suppose everybody knew that. He married Aunt Polly's sister and she was my mother. Oh, I understand. But you see, I haven't been here many years, so I don't know all the family histories. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, smiled Pollyanna. There was a long pause. The minister, still sitting at the foot of the tree, appeared to have forgotten Pollyanna's presence. He had pulled some papers from his pocket and unfolded them, but he was not looking at them. He was gazing instead at a leaf on the ground a little distance away, and it was not even a pretty leaf. It was brown and dead. Pollyanna, looking at him, felt vaguely sorry for him. It's a nice day, she began, hopefully. For a moment, there was no answer. Then the minister looked up with a start. What? Oh, yes, it is a very nice day. And tisn't cold at all, either, even if tis October. Observed Pollyanna, still more, hopefully. Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said he didn't need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at fires, don't you? There was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently before she tried again by a new route. Do you like being a minister? The Reverend Paul Ford looked up now very quickly. Do I like? Why, what an odd question. Why do you ask that, my dear? Nothing, only the way you looked. It made me think of my father. He used to look like that, sometimes. Did he? The minister's voice was polite, but his eyes had gone back to the dried leaf on the ground. Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you if he was glad he was a minister. The man under the tree smiled a little sadly. Well, what did he say? Oh, he always said he was, of course. But most always he said too that he wouldn't stay a minister a minute if it wasn't for the rejoicing texts. The what? The Reverend Paul Ford's eyes left the leaf and gazed wonderingly into Pollyanna's merry little face. Well, that's what father used to call him, she laughed. Of course, the Bible didn't name him that, but it's all those that begin, be glad in the Lord, or rejoice greatly, or shout for joy and all that, you know, such a lot of them. Once when father felt specially bad, he counted them. There were 800 of them. 800? Yes, that told you to rejoice and be glad, you know. That's why father named them the rejoicing texts. Oh, there was an odd look on the minister's face. His eyes had fallen to the words on the top paper in his hands. But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites. And so your father liked those rejoicing texts, he murmured. Oh yes, not at Pollyanna emphatically. He said he felt better right away that first day he thought to count them. He said, if God took the trouble to tell us 800 times to be glad and rejoice, he must want us to do it, some. And father felt ashamed that he hadn't done it more. After that, they got to be such a comfort to him, you know, when things went wrong. When the ladies-aders got to fight, I mean, when they didn't agree about something, corrected Pollyanna hastily. Why, it was those texts too, father said, that made him think of the game. He began with me on the crutches, but he said to us the rejoicing texts that started him on it. And what game might that be? asked the minister. About finding something in everything to be glad about, you know. As I said, he began with me on the crutches. And once more Pollyanna told her story. This time to a man who listened with tender eyes. And understanding ears. A little later, Pollyanna and the minister descended the hill, hand in hand. Pollyanna's face was radiant. Pollyanna loved to talk, and she had been talking now for some time. There seemed to be so many, many things about the game, her father, and the old home life that the minister wanted to know. At the foot of the hill, their ways parted, and Pollyanna down one road, and the minister down another, walked on alone. In the Reverend Paul Ford study that evening, the minister sat thinking. Near him on the desk lay a few loose sheets of paper, his sermon notes. Under the suspended pencil in his fingers lay other sheets of paper, blank, his sermon to be. But the minister was not thinking either of what he had written or of what he intended to write. In his imagination he was far away in a little western town with a missionary minister who was poor, sick, worried, and almost alone in the world. But who was pouring over the Bible to find how many times his lord and master had told him to rejoice and be glad. After a time, with a long sigh, the Reverend Paul Ford roused himself, came back from the far western town, and adjusted the sheets of paper under his hand. Matthew 23, 13 through 14 and 23, he wrote. Then, with a gesture of impatience, he dropped his pencil and pulled toward him a magazine left on the desk by his wife a few minutes before. Wistlessly his tired eyes turned from paragraph to paragraph, until these words arrested him. A father one day said to his son, Tom, who he knew had refused to fill his mother's wood box that morning, Tom, I'm sure you'll be glad to go and bring in some wood for your mother. And without a word, Tom went. Why? Just because his father showed so plainly that he expected him to do the right thing. Suppose he had said, Tom, I overheard what you said to your mother this morning and I'm ashamed of you. Go at once and fill that wood box. I'll warrant that wood box would be empty yet. So far as Tom was concerned, on and on read the minister. A word here, a line there, a paragraph somewhere else. What men and women need is encouragement. Their natural resisting powers should be strengthened, not weakened. Instead of always harping on a man's faults, tell him of his virtues. Try to pull him out of his rut of bad habits. Hold up to him his better self, his real self that can dare and do and win out. The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious and may revolutionize a whole town. People radiate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If a man feels kindly and obliging, his neighbors will feel that way too before long. But if he scolds and scowls and criticizes, his neighbors will return scowl for scowl and add interest. When you look for the bad, expecting it, you will get it. When you know you will find the good, you will get that. Tell your son Tom you know he'll be glad to fill that wood box. Then watch him start, alert and interested. The minister dropped the paper and lifted his chin. In a moment he was on his feet, tramping the narrow room back and forth, back and forth. Later, sometime later, he drew a long breath and dropped himself in the chair at his desk. God helping me I'll do it. He cried softly. I'll tell all my toms I know they'll be glad to fill that wood box. I'll give them work to do and I'll make them so full of the very joy of doing it that they won't have time to look at their neighbor's wood boxes. And he picked up his sermon notes, tore straight through the sheets and cast them from him. So that on one side of his chair lay, but woe unto you and on the other, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites. While across the smooth white paper before him, his pencil fairly flew, after first drawing one black line through Matthew 23, 13 through 14 and 23. Thus it happened that the Reverend Paul Ford Sermon the next Sunday was a veritable bugle call to the best that was in every man and woman and child that heard it. And its text was one of Pollyanna's shining eight hundred. Be glad in the Lord and rejoice he righteous and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 23 An Accident At Mrs. Snow's request, Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton's office to get the name of a medicine which Mrs. Snow had forgotten. As a chance, Pollyanna had never before seen the inside of Dr. Chilton's office. I've never been to your home before. The since your home, isn't it? She said, looking interestingly about her. The doctor smiled a little sadly. Yes, such as tears. He answered as he wrote something on the pad of paper in his hand. But it's a pretty poor apology for a home, Pollyanna. They're just rooms. That's all. Not a home. Pollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic understanding. I know. It takes a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence to make a home, she said. Hey? The doctor wheeled about abruptly. Mr. Pendleton told me, nodded Pollyanna again. About the woman's hand and heart or the child's presence, you know? Why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe you take Jimmy Bean. If Mr. Pendleton doesn't want him. Dr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly. So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home, does he? He asked evasively. Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don't you, Dr. Chilton? Why don't I? What? The doctor had turned back to his desk. Get a woman's hand and heart. Oh, and I forgot. Pollyanna's face showed suddenly a painful color. I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn't Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago. And so we... we aren't going there to live. You see, I told you it was, but I made a mistake. I hope you didn't tell anyone. She finished anxiously. No. I didn't tell anyone, Pollyanna. Replied the doctor a little queerly. Oh, that's all right then, sighed Pollyanna in relief. You see, you're the only one I told and I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of funny when I said I'd told you. Did he? The doctor's lips twitched. Yes, and of course he wouldn't want many people to know it when it wasn't true. But why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? There was a moment's silence. Then, very gravely, the doctor said. They're not always to be had. For the asking, little girl. Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. But I should think you could get them, she argued. The flattering emphasis was unmistakable. Thank you. Laughed the doctor with uplifted eyebrows. Then gravely again. I'm afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite so... confident. At least they... they haven't shown themselves to be so... obliging. He observed. Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise. Why, Dr. Chilton, you don't mean... you didn't try to get somebody's hand and heart once, like Mr. Pendleton and... and couldn't, did you? The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly. There, there, Pollyanna. Never mind about that now. Don't let other people's troubles worry your little head. Suppose you run back now to Mrs. Snow. I've written down the name of the medicine and the directions how she is to take it. Was there anything else? Pollyanna shook her head. No, sir. Thank you, sir. She murmured soberly as she turned toward the door. From the little hallway she called back, her face suddenly alight. Anyhow, I'm glad it wasn't my mother's hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get, Dr. Chilton. Goodbye. It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car. Just what happened? No one could seem to tell afterward. Neither was there anyone found who could tell why it happened or who was to blame that it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o'clock, was born limp and unconscious into the little room that was so dear to her. There, by a white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy, she was undressed tenderly and put to bed. While from the village, hastily summoned by telephone, Dr. Warren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could bring him. And you didn't need to mourn, look at her headspace. Nancy was sobbing to old Tom in the garden after the doctor had arrived and was closeted in the hushed room. You didn't need to mourn, look at her headspace to see the twenty-note duty that was eating her. Your hands don't shake and your eyes don't look as if you were trying to hold back the angel of death himself. Would you just do in your duty, Mr. Tom? They don't, they don't. Is she hurt? Bad. The old man's voice shook. There ain't no talent, sobbed Nancy. She lay back that white and still she might easy be dead. But Miss Polly said she wasn't dead and Miss Polly had ought to know if anyone would. She kept up such a listening and a feeling for heartbeats in her breath. Couldn't you tell anything what it done to her? That, that. Old Tom's face worked convulsively. Nancy's lips relaxed a little. I wish you would call it something, Mr. Tom, and something good and strong too. Dread it! The think of it's running down our little girl. I always hated the evil smell and the things anyhow. I did, I did. But where is she hurt? I don't know, I don't know. moaned Nancy. There's a little cut on her blessed head, but ain't bad. That ain't, Miss Polly says. She says she's afraid. It's infernally she's hurt. A faint flicker came into Old Tom's eyes. I guess you mean internally, Nancy. He said dryly. She's hurt infernally, all right. Planked take that automobile. But I don't guess Miss Polly'd be using that word all the same. Eh? Well I don't know, I don't know. moaned Nancy with a shake of her head as she turned away. Seems as if I just couldn't stand it till that doctor gets out of there. I wish I had a washin' to do. The biggest washin' I ever see I do, I do. She wailed, wringing her hands helplessly. Even after the doctor was gone, however, there seemed to be little that Nancy could tell Mr. Tom. There appeared to be no bones broken, and the cut was of slight consequence. But the doctor had looked very grave, had shaken his head slowly, and had said that time alone could tell. After he had gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and more drawn looking than before. The patient had not fully recovered consciousness, but at present she seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be expected. A trained nurse had been sent for, and would come that night. That was all. And Nancy turned sobbingly, and went back to her kitchen. It was some time during the next four noon that Polly Anna opened conscious eyes and realized where she was. Why Aunt Polly? What's the matter? Isn't it daytime? Why don't I get up? She cried. Why Aunt Polly? I can't get up. She moaned, falling back on the pillow after an ineffectual attempt to lift herself. No, dear, I wouldn't try that just yet. Soothed her aunt quickly, but very quietly. But what is the matter? Why can't I get up? Miss Polly's eyes asked an agonized question of the white-capped young woman standing in the window out of the range of Polly Anna's eyes. The young woman nodded. Tell her, the lip said. Miss Polly cleared her throat and tried to swallow the lump that would scarcely let her speak. You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last night. But never mind that now. Andy wants you to rest and to go to sleep again. Hurt? Oh, yes. I-I ran. Polly Anna's eyes were dazed. She lifted her hand to her forehead. Why, it's done up and it hurts. Yes, dear, but never mind. Just-just rest. But Ann Polly, I feel so funny. It's so bad. My legs feel so-so queer. Only they don't feel at all. With an imploring look into the nurse's face, Miss Polly struggled to her feet and turned away. The nurse came forward quickly. Suppose you let me talk to you now. She began cheerily. I'm sure I think it's high time we were getting acquainted and I'm going to introduce myself. I am Miss Hunt and I've come to help your aunt take care of you. And the very first thing I'm going to do is to ask you to swallow these little white pills for me. Polly Anna's eyes grew a bit wild. But I don't want to be taken care of. That is not for long. I want to get up. You know I go to school. Can't I go to school tomorrow? From the window where Aunt Polly stood now, there came a half stifled cry. Tomorrow? Smiled the nurse brightly. Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss Polly Anna. But just swallow these little pills for me please and we'll see what they'll do. All right. Agreed Polly Anna somewhat doubtfully. But I must go to school day after tomorrow. There are examinations then, you know. She spoke again a minute later. She spoke of school and of the automobile and of how her head ached. But very soon her voice trailed into silence under the blessed influence of the little white pills she had swallowed. End of Chapter 23. Read by The Story Girl. Chapter 24 of Polly Anna. By Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 24. John Pendleton. Polly Anna did not go to school tomorrow, nor the day after tomorrow. Polly Anna however did not realize this. Except momentarily when a brief period of full consciousness sent insisting questions to her lips. Polly Anna did not realize anything in fact very clearly until a week had passed. Then the fever subsided. The pain lessened somewhat and her mind awoke to full consciousness. She had then to be told all over again what had occurred. And so it's hurt that I am. And not sick. She sighed at last. Well, I'm glad of that. Glad? Polly Anna? Asked to Rand who was sitting by the bed. Yes, I'd so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton's than lifelong invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and lifelong invalids don't. Miss Polly, who had said nothing whatever about broken legs, got suddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table across the room. She was picking up one object after another now and putting each down in an aimless fashion quite unlike her usual decisiveness. Her face was not aimless looking at all however. It was white and drawn. On the bed Polly Anna lay blinking at the dancing band of colors on the ceiling which came from one of the prisms in the window. I'm glad it isn't smallpox that ails me too. She murmured contentedly. That would be worse than freckles. And I'm glad it isn't whooping cough. I've had that and it's horrid. And I'm glad it isn't appendicitis nor measles because they're catching. Measles are I mean. And they wouldn't let you stay here. You seem to be glad for a good many things my dear. Faltered Aunt Polly putting her hand to her throat as if her collar bound. Polly Anna laughed softly. I am. I've been thinking of them. Lots of them. All the time I've been looking up at that rainbow. I love rainbows. I'm so glad Mr. Pendleton gave me those prisms. I'm glad if some things I haven't said yet. I don't know but I'm most glad I was hurt. Polly Anna. Polly Anna laughed softly again. She turned luminous eyes on her hand. Well you see since I have been hurt you've called me dear lots of times. And you did it before. I love to be called dear. By folks that belong to you I mean. Some of the ladies aiders did call me that and of course that was pretty nice. But not so nice as if they had belonged to me like you do. Oh Aunt Polly I'm so glad you belong to me. And Polly did not answer. Her hand was at her throat again. Her eyes were full of tears. She had turned away and was hurrying from the room through the door by which the nurse had just entered. It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to old Tom who was cleaning harnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild. Mr. Tom. Mr. Tom guess what's happened. She panted. You couldn't guess in a thousand years. You couldn't you couldn't. Then I call it I won't try. Retorted the man grimly. Especially as I ain't got more than ten to live anyhow probably. You'd better tell me first off Nancy. Well listen then. Who do you suppose is in the parlor now with the mistress? Who I say. Old Tom shook his head. There's no telling. He declared. Yes there is. I'm telling. It's John Pendleton. Show now. You're a joking girl. Not much I am. And Mia letting him in myself. Crutches and all. And the team he come in awaiting this minute at the door for him just as if he want the cranky old cross patch he is would never talks to no one. Just think Mr. Tom. Him a calling on her. Well why not. Demanded the old man a little aggressively. Nancy gave him a scornful glance. As if you didn't know better than me. She derided. Eh? Oh you needn't be so innocent. She retorted with mock indignation. You what led me wild goose chasing in the first place. What do you mean? Nancy glanced through the open barn door toward the house and came a step nearer to the old man. Listen. It was you that was telling me Miss Polly had a lover in the first place, wasn't it? Well one day I think I find two and two and I put some together and makes four. But it turns out to be five and no four at all at all. With a gesture of indifference old Tom turned and fell to work. If you were going to talk to me you've got a talk plain horse sense. He declared testily. I never was no hand for figures. Nancy laughed. Well it's this she explained. I heard something that made me think him and Miss Polly was lovers. Mr. Pendleton? Old Tom straightened up. Yes. Oh I know now, he wasn't. It was that blessed child's mother he was in love with and that's why he wanted... But never mind that part. She added hastily. Remembering just in time her promise to Polly Anna. Not to tell that Mr. Pendleton had wished her to come and live with him. Well I've been asking folks about him some sins. And I found out that him and Miss Polly ain't been friends for years. And that she's been hating him like poison. Owing to the silly gossip that coupled their names together when she was 18 or 20. Yes I remember. Not it old Tom. It was three or four years after Miss Jenny gave him the mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss Polly knew about it of course and was sorry for him. So she tried to be nice to him. Maybe she overdid it a little. She hated that minister chap so it took off with her sister. At any rate somebody begun to make trouble. They said she was running after him. Running after any man. Her? Interjected Nancy. I know it but they did. Declared old Tom. And of course no gal of any spunkle stand that. Then about that time come her own lover and the trouble with him. After that she shut up like an oyster. And wouldn't have nothing to do with nobody for a spell. Her heart just seemed to turn bitter at the core. Yes I know. I've heard about that now. Rejoined Nancy. And that's why you could have knocked me down with a feather when I see him at the door. Him what she hates spoke to for years. But I let him in and went and told her. What did she say? Old Tom held his breath suspended. Nothing at first. She was so still I thought she hadn't heard. And I was just going to say it over when she speaks up quiet like tell Mr. Pendleton I will be down at once. And I come down and told him. Then I come out here and told you finish Nancy. Casting another backward glance toward the house. Oh grunted old Tom and fell to work again. In the ceremonious parlor of the Harrington homestead. Mr. John Pendleton did not have to wait long before a swift step warned him of Miss Polly's coming. As he attempted to rise she made a gesture of remonstrance. She did not offer her hand however and her face was coldly reserved. I called to ask for Polly Anna. He began at once a little brusquely. Thank you. She is about the same said Miss Polly. And that is won't you tell me how she is. His voice was not quite steady this time. A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman's face. I can't. I wish I could. You mean you don't know. Yes. But the doctor. Dr. Warren himself seems at sea. He is in correspondence now with the New York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once. But what were her injuries that you do know? A slight cut on the head. One or two bruises and an injury to the spine. Which seemed to cause paralysis from the hips down. A low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence then huskily he asked. And Polly Anna. How does she take it? She doesn't understand at all how things really are. And I can't tell her. She must know something. Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the gesture that had become so common to her of late. Oh yes. She knows she can't move. But she thinks her legs are broken. She says she's glad it's broken legs like yours rather than lifelong invalids like Mrs. Snows. Because broken legs get well and the other doesn't. She talks like that all the time until it seems as if I should die. Through the blur of tears in his own eyes the man saw the drawn face opposite. Twisted with emotion. And voluntarily his thoughts went back to what Polly Anna had said when he had made his final plea for her pain. Oh I couldn't leave Aunt Polly now. It was this thought that made him ask very gently as soon as he could control his voice. I wonder if you know Miss Harrington. How hard I tried to get Polly Anna to come and live with me. With you? Polly Anna? The man winced a little at the tone of her voice but his own voice was still impersonally cool when he spoke again. Yes. I wanted to adopt her. Legally you understand. Making her my heir, of course. The woman in the opposite chair relaxed a little. It came to her suddenly. What a brilliant future it would have meant for Polly Anna. This adoption. And she wondered if Polly Anna were old enough. I don't know. The brilliant future it would have meant for Polly Anna. This adoption. And she wondered if Polly Anna were old enough and mercenary enough to be tempted by this man's money and position. I am very fond of Polly Anna. The man was continuing. I am fond of her both for her own sake and for her mother's. I stood ready to give Polly Anna the love that had been 25 years in storage. Love. Miss Polly remembered suddenly why she had taken this child in the first place. And with the recollection came the remembrance of Polly Anna's own words uttered that very morning. I love to be called dear by folks that belong to you. And it was this love hungry little girl that had been offered the stored up affection of 25 years. And she was old enough to be tempted by love. With a sinking heart Miss Polly realized that with a sinking heart too she realized something else. The dreariness of her own future now without Polly Anna. Well she said and the man recognizing the self-control that vibrated through the harshness of the tone smiled sadly. She would not come. He answered she would not leave you. She said you had been so good to her. She wanted to stay with you. And she said she thought you wanted her to stay. He finished as he pulled himself to his feet. He did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned his face resolutely toward the door. But instantly he heard a swift step at his side and found a shaking hand thrust toward him. When the specialist comes and I know anything definite about Polly Anna. I will let you hear from me said a trembling voice. Goodbye. And thank you for coming. Polly Anna will be pleased. Polly Anna by Eleanor H. Porter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by The Story Girl. Chapter 25 A Waiting Game On the day after John Pendleton's call at the Harrington homestead Miss Polly set herself to the task of preparing Polly Anna for the visit of the specialist. Polly Anna my dear. She began gently. We have decided that we want another doctor besides Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us something new to do. To help you get well faster you know. A joyous light came to Polly Anna's face. Dr. Chilton? Oh Aunt Polly I'd so love to have Dr. Chilton. I've wanted him all the time but I was afraid you didn't. On account of his seeing you in the sun parlor that day you know. So I didn't like to say anything. But I'm so glad you do want him. Aunt Polly's face had turned white. Then red. Then back to white again. But when she answered she showed very plainly that she was trying to speak lightly and cheerfully. Oh no dear. It wasn't Dr. Chilton at all that I meant. It is a new doctor. A very famous doctor from New York who knows a great deal about hurts like yours. Polly Anna's face fell. I don't believe he knows half so much as Dr. Chilton. Oh yes he does I'm sure dear. But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pendleton's broken leg. Aunt Polly if if you don't mind very much I would like to have Dr. Chilton. Truly I would. A distressed color suffused Miss Polly's face. For a moment she did not speak at all. Then she said gently though yet with the touch of her old stern decisiveness. But I do mind Polly Anna. I mind very much. I would do anything. Almost anything for you my dear. But I... For reasons which I do not care to speak of now. I don't wish Dr. Chilton called in on... On this case. And believe me he cannot know so much about... About your trouble as this great doctor does who will come from New York tomorrow. Polly Anna still looked unconvinced. But Aunt Polly if you loved Dr. Chilton... What Polly Anna? Aunt Polly's voice was very clear. I would like to have Dr. Chilton. If you loved Dr. Chilton... What Polly Anna? Aunt Polly's voice was very sharp now. Her cheeks were very red too. I say if you loved Dr. Chilton and didn't love the other one. Side Polly Anna. Seems to me that would make some difference in the good he would do. And I loved Dr. Chilton. The nurse entered the room at that moment. And Aunt Polly rose to her feet abruptly. A look of relief on her face. I'm very sorry Polly Anna. She said a little stiffly. But I'm afraid you'll have to let me be the judge this time. Besides it's already arranged. The New York doctor is coming tomorrow. As it happened however... The New York doctor did not come tomorrow. At the last moment a telegram told of an unavoidable delay... Owing to the sudden illness of the specialist himself. This led Polly Anna into a renewed pleading for the substitution of Dr. Chilton. Which would be so easy now you know. But as before Aunt Polly shook her head and said... No dear. Very decisively. Yet with a still more anxious assurance that she would do anything. Anything but that. To please her dear Polly Anna. As the days of waiting passed one by one. It did indeed seem that Aunt Polly was doing everything but that. That she could do to please her niece. I wouldn't have believed it. You couldn't have made me believe it. Nancy said to old Tom one morning... There don't seem to be a minute in the day that Miss Polly ain't just hanging round waiting to do something for that blessed lamb. If taint more than to let in the cat. And her what wouldn't let fluff nor buff upstairs for love nor money a week ago. And now she let some tumble all over the bed just because it pleases Miss Polly Anna. And when she ain't doing nothing else. She's moving them little glass danglers round to different windows in the room. The sun'll make the rainbows dance as that blessed child calls it. She sent Timothy down to Cobb's greenhouse three times for fresh flowers. And that besides all the posies fetched into her too. And the other day if I didn't find her sitting for the bed with the nurse actually doing her hair. And Miss Polly Anna looking on and bossing from the bed her eyes all shining and happy. And I declare to goodness if Miss Polly ain't worn her hair like that every day now. Just to please that blessed child. Old Tom chuggled. Well it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain't looking none the worse for wearing them hair curls round her forehead. He observed dryly. Course she ain't. Retorted Nancy indignantly. She looks like folks now. She's actually almost. Careful now Nancy. Interrupted the old man with a slow grin. You know what you said when I told you she was handsome once. Nancy shrugged her shoulders. Oh she ain't handsome of course. But I will own up she don't look like the same woman. What with the ribbons and lace jiggers Miss Polly Anna makes her wear round her neck. I told you so? Nodded the man. I told you she won't. Old Nancy laughed. Well I'll own up she ain't got quite so good an imitation of it as she did have for Miss Polly Anna come. Say Mr. Tom. Who was her lover? I ain't found that out yet. I hanged I hanged. Hanged ye? Asked the old man with an odd look on his face. Well I guess you won't then from me. Oh Mr. Tom. Come on now. Weedled the girl. You see there ain't many folks here that I can ask. Maybe not. But there's one anyhow that ain't answering. Grindled Tom. Then abruptly. The light died from his eyes. How is she today? The little gal. Nancy shook her head. Her face too had sobered. Just the same Mr. Tom. There ain't no special difference as I can see. Or anybody I guess. She just lays there and sleeps and talks some. And tries to smile and be glad. Cuss the sun sets or the moon rises. Or some other such thing. Till it's enough to make your heart break with Aiken. I know. It's the game. Bless her sweetheart. Not at old Tom. Blinking a little. She told you then too? About that air game? Oh yes. She told me long ago. The old man hesitated. Then went on. His lips twitching a little. I was growling one day because I was so bent up and crooked. And what do you suppose the little thing said? I couldn't guess. I wouldn't think she could find anything about that to be glad about. She did. She said I could be glad anyhow. That I didn't have to stoop so far to do my weeding. Because I was already bent part way over. Nancy gave a wistful laugh. Well I ain't surprised after all. You might know she'd find something. We've been playing it. That game. Since almost the first. Because there won't no one else she could play it with. Though she did speak of her own. Miss Polly. Nancy chuckled. I guess you ain't got such an awful different opinion of the mistress than I have. She bridled. Old Tom stiffened. I was only thinking it would be... some of a surprise to her. He explained with dignity. Well yes, I was. I was. I was. Well yes I guess twidby. Then retorted Nancy. I ain't saying what twidby now. I'd believe anything of the mistress now. Even that she'd take the plane at herself. But ain't the little gal told her? Ever? She's told everyone else I guess. I'm hearing of it everywhere now since she was hurted. Said Tom. Well she didn't tell Miss Polly. Rejoined Nancy. Miss Polly Anna told me long ago that she couldn't tell her. Cause her aunt didn't like her to have her talk about her father. And twas her father's game. And she'd have to talk about him if she did tell it. So she never told her. Oh, I see. I see. The old man nodded his head slowly. They was always bitter against the minister chap. All of them. Cause he took Miss Jenny away from them. And Miss Polly, young as she was, couldn't never forgive him. She was that fond of Miss Jenny in them days. I see. I see. It was a bad mess. He sighed as he turned away. Yes, twas, all round, all round. Said Nancy in her turn as she went back to her kitchen. For no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look cheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was openly nervous and impatient. Miss Polly said little, but even the softening waves of hair about her face and the becoming laces at her throat could not hide the fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna, Pollyanna petted the dog, smoothed the cat's sleek head, admired the flowers and ate the fruits and jellies that were sent into her and returned innumerable cheery answers to the many messages of love and inquiry that were brought to her bedside. But she too grew pale and thin and the nervous activity of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the pitiful motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs, now lying so woefully quiet under the blankets. As to the game, Pollyanna told Nancy these days how glad she was going to be when she could go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to call on Mr. Pendleton and go to ride with Dr. Chilton, nor did she seem to realize that all this gladness was in the future, not the present. Nancy however realized it and cry about it when she was alone. End of Chapter 25 Read by The Story Girl Chapter 26 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl Chapter 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, grey 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 an 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, divining 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, 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. Only 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 footage are, 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! You 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 Mead 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 and Doctor Mead'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 quietly. 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 it isn't true. It isn't true. The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Something in her face sent an added terror to 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 joke the nurse. Perhaps he didn't know. Perhaps he was mistaken. There's lots of things that could happen, you know. But Aunt Polly said he did know. She said he knew more than anybody else 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. When Miss Hunt, how am I going to school? Or to see Mr. Pendleton or Mrs. Snow 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 at 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 we'll 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. Obediently, Pollyanna took the medicine and zipped the water from the glass in Miss Hunt's hand. I know, that sounds like 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. End of Chapter 26 Read by The Story Girl Chapter 27 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by The Story Girl 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 couldn't look like that. In a moment he spoke again. Still, in the low, unsteady voice. It seems cruel. Never the 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 and dragged that cat. I beg your pardon. Apologize the girl hurriedly. It's only that the cat pushed open the door and Miss Pollyanna overhurt him talking. She found out that way. Poor little girl. Side the man again. Yes, sir. You'd say so, sir, if you could see her. Choked Nancy. I hadn't seen her, but twice since she knew about it. And it done me up both times. You see, it's all so 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? To remind her? Of what? John Pendleton's voice was still angrily impatient. Of... of how she told others to play it? Ms. Snow and the rest, you know. And what she said for them to do. But the poor little lamb just cries. It says it don't seem the same somehow. She says it's easy to tell lifelong invalids how to be glad, but it's the same thing when you're the lifelong invalid yourself and have to try to do it. She says she's 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 hands over his eyes. Then I tried to remind her how she used to say the game was all the nicer to play when, when it was hard, resumed Nancy in a dull voice. But she says that too is different when it really is hard. And I must be going now, sir. She broke off abruptly. At the door she hesitated, turned and asked timidly. I couldn't be 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, 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 as to show you he really was a lovely child's presence. And now she can't drop that automobile. I beg your pardon, sir. Goodbye. 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 peaking 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 of 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 on the porch steps fumbling with hats or handbags according to their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of flowers or 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 crunches 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. Meade prescribed certain treatments and medicines that might help and I'm sure Dr. Warren is carrying them out to the letter of course. But Dr. Meade held out almost no hope. John Pendleton rose abruptly though he had but just come. His face was white then 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 arms but he knew very well that 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 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 dropped 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 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 into sudden joy glad glad well I reckon I am glad I went 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 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 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 Dr. Chilton says so too then it takes a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence to make a home you know Sherry Mart Miss Polly turned with a start Dr. Chilton how do you know that? he told me so to us 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 color 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 on naturally pink Pollyanna sighed he once won anyhow I know and I wish he 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 prison said Aunt Polly whose whole face now was a flame end of Chapter 27 recording by the story girl Chapter 28 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter this LibriVox recording is in the public domain read by the story girl 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 were very kind she is about the same how was your mother rejoined Miss Polly wearily that is what I came to tell you that is to ask you to tell Miss Pollyanna 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 and 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 always had 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 wouldn't 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 the things how she looks and her night dress and all that and she's actually begun to knit little things Reigns 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 doings 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 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 warstits and the prisms and 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 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 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 discourse she could remember to tell these visits of John Pendleton and Millie Snow were only the first of many and always 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 Pollyanna 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 you'd give her a message she stammered certainly Mrs Benton I shall 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 color 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 of 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 were very kind murmured Miss Polly but it is you who were to be kind to mirrored 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 rather not explain sad lines came to the ladies mouth and the smile left her eyes your 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 Anna's room Polly Anna 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 Polly Anna'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 Polly Anna clapped her hand softly did she say that really oh I'm so glad but Polly Anna what did she mean why it's the game and Polly Anna stopped short her fingers to her lips nothing much Aunt Polly that is I can't tell it unless I tell other things that that I'm not to speak of it was on Miss Polly's tongue to question her knees 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 whom 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, Polly Anna 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 Polly Anna the woman hesitated then a little brusquely 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 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 on them one hour than I could in a hundred years but never mind that legs ain't always given to the ones 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 don't generally call on my kind maybe if they did call more Ms. 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 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 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 frightened 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 that's 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 and his 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 please 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 Pollyanna I try 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 and 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 there 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 Pollyanna'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 seems twice 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 that's what I said and Miss Pollyanna said that's what she said too but he told her she could be glad because she didn't need them cried Miss Polly and after that she said he made a regular game of it finding something and everything to be glad about and she said you could do it too and that you didn't seem to mind not having the doll so much because you were 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 Miss Polly came 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 Pollyanna herself I wish I could tell you what a lot she's done for mother and the folks out home she's been to see him you know twice with me she's made me glad too on such a lot of things little things and big things and it's 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 toward Hepsiba 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 twit be a whole week before you'd have another one and I'm blessed if I ain'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 laughing 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 to us her father's game you see Miss Polly bit her lip she wanted to tell you first off continued Nancy a little unsteadily she wanted somebody to play it with you know that's why I begun it so she could have someone and 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 then things go you know when they get started and she was always so smiling and pleasant to everyone and so so just glad herself all the time that they couldn't help knowing 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 coming every day to tell her how glad she's made them hoping that'll help some you see she's always wanted everybody to play the game with her well I know somebody who will play it now choked Miss Polly as she turned and sped through the kitchen doorway behind her Nancy stood staring amazingly well I'll believe anything anything now she muttered to herself you can't stump me with anything I wouldn't believe now a 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 steady do you remember Mrs. Payson Mrs. Payson why I reckon I do she lives on the way to Mr. Pendleton's 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 into 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 anymore 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 they aren't going way off dear evaded aunt Polly hurriedly they're going to stay right there together I'm so glad then they'll be there when I go up to see broke off the little girl miserably can't I remember that my legs don't go anymore and then I won't ever ever go up to see Mr. Bedelton again they're there don't choked her aunt perhaps you'll drive up sometime but listen I haven't told you yet all that Mrs. Payson said she wanted me to tell you that they they were going to stay together and to play the game just as you wanted them to Polyanna smiled through tear wet eyes did they I am glad of that yes she said she hoped you'd be that's why she told you to make you glad Polyanna Polyanna looked up quickly I am Polly you 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 and 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 didn't yes dear and there were all those others too why Polyanna 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 and how to play it Polyanna clapped her hands I'm so glad she cried then suddenly a wonderful light illumined her face why Poly 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 end of chapter 28 read by the story girl chapter 29 of Polyanna by Eleanor H. Porter this LibriVox recording is in the public domain by the story girl chapter 29 through an open window one by one the short winter days came and went but they were not short to Polyanna they were long and sometimes full of pain very resolutely these days however Polyanna 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 hid Polyanna now like Mrs. Snow was knitting wonderful things out of bright colored warsteds that trailed their cheery lengths across the white spread and made Polyanna again like Mrs. Snow she had her hands and arms anyway Polyanna 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 Polyanna 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 than I have had my legs Polyanna confided to her aunt afterwards the winter passed and spring came the anxious watchers over Polyanna's condition could see little change wrought by the prescribed treatment there seemed every reason to believe indeed that Dr. Meade's worst fears would be realized that Polyanna would never walk again Beldingsville of course kept itself informed concerning Polyanna 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 the 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 you better than anyone else in town 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 15 years or more Yes 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 Pendleton you know very well I haven't been inside that door for more than 15 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 found 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 the quarrel 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 am 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 but 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 others 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 Ms. 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 hand 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 a savage turn I don't know I don't know groaned the other miserably outside 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 going to do it and forthwith he rose to his feet crept stealthily around the corner of the house and ran with all his might down Pendleton hill end of chapter 29 read by the story girl chapter 30 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter this LibriVox recording is in the public domain read by the story girl chapter 30 Jimmy takes the helm it's Jimmy Bean he wants to see you ma'am announced 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 weirly in the sitting room she found waiting for her a round-eyed flush-faced boy who began to speak at once ma'am I suppose it's dreadful what I'm doing 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 at at 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 stupefication 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 listen to that Jimmy what are you talking about Jimmy sighed again that's what I'm trying to tell you 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 you understand that yes Jimmy Miss Polly's voice was rather feigned well the window was open and I was weed in the flowerbed under it and I heard him talk oh Jimmy listening torn about me and torn sneak listening bridal Jimmy and I'm glad I listened you will be when I tell you why it may make Polly Anna walk Jimmy what do you mean Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly there I told you so nodded Jimmy contentedly well Dr. Chilton knows some doctor somewhere that can cure Polly Anna he thinks make her walk you 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 you wouldn't let him Miss Polly's face turned very red but Jimmy I 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 come to tell you 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 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 you understand yes but Jimmy about that doctor implored Miss Polly feverishly who was he what did he do are you 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 flush faced Miss Polly in the hall he was still more surprised to hear the lady 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 end of chapter 30 read by the story girl chapter 31 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter this LibriVox recording is in the public domain read by the story girl chapter 31 a new uncle the next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber where Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna 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 is 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 Pollyanna contentedly yes dear I asked him that is but it was too late the adoring happiness that had leapt to 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 his hands to Pollyanna little girl I'm thinking that one of the very glottis 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 Pollyanna's bedside the nurse was at supper they had the room to themselves Pollyanna dear I'm going to tell you the very first one of all some day I'm going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your uncle and it's you that have done it all oh Pollyanna I'm so happy and so glad darling Pollyanna 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've done the gladdest job of all today I'm so glad wait 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 Pollyanna's mind Pollyanna 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 End of Chapter 31 Read by the Story Girl Chapter 32 of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Read by the Story Girl Chapter 32 which is a letter from Pollyanna Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom 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 hopes she can walk next month was invited into the party and she laid on my nurses bed and clapped her hands even Black Tilly who washes the floor looked through the Piazza window and called me honey child 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 just think I can walk walk walk now I don't mind being here almost ten 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 Gladys 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 anymore 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 Pollyanna End of Chapter 32 Recording by The Story Girl End of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter