 CHAPTER IX WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN It reigned the next time Pollyanna saw the man. She greeted him, however, with a bright smile. "'It isn't so nice to-day, is it?' she called, blithesomely. 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 to-day. "'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, a 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. I like old folks just as well. Maybe better—sometimes, being used to the lady's aid so.' "'Hmph! The lady's 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 lady's 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 now that I know the sun is shining today.' "'But you don't have to tell me,' nodded 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.' "'Hmph!' 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. He ain't 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. 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 her 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 tellin.' 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. It is. We said it specially when we were looking at the roast turkey plate. You know. That was sixty cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans? Like them? What if he does or don't? Why, 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. "'Oh, I mean he's rich enough to do it,' shrugged Nancy. He ain't spendin' his money, that's all. He's a savin' of it. Oh! For the heathen,' surmised Pollyanna, how perfectly splendid. Just denying yourself and taking up your cross, I know, father told me. Nancy's lips parted abruptly, as if they 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. "'Hmph,' she vouchsafed. Then showing her old-time interest she went on. But say, it is queer his speaking 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. The 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 Surah, 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 gym-crack he's found in them heathen countries. But he don't never seem to want to spend no money here, lest ways not for just livin'. 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 gladter and ever now anyhow that he speaks to me side Pollyanna contentedly. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of Pollyanna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 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 for Miss 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 tisn't any farther away from yesterday than to-day is, then, laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room, and setting her basket carefully down in 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, Anne Caff'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 and 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. Nellie Higgins next door has 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. Polly 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, so as to change your position when the music gets too hard to stand. Mrs. Snow stared a little. Why, 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, though 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 it all, and I forgot you didn't know Mrs. White. You see, Miss White was deaf, awfully deaf, and she came to visit him, and to help take care of Mrs. White, and the house. Well, they had such an awful time making her understand anything that after that, every time the piano commands 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'd 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 bed all day? Oh, scoffed the woman that. Yes, I remember that. But I didn't suppose you were in earnest any more than I was. Oh, yes I was, nodded Pollyanna triumphantly. And I found it, too. But it was hard. It's all the more fun, though. Always went his hard. 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. I'll 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 a dreary listlessness. She telephoned down 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 days 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 am 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? Why, 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. Why, 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, 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 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? Why, 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 the curtains and pictures that I've been want. 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, but you 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 in 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 foth—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—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 pictures than the one out of 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 twenty-four 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 down 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 and 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 am 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 have 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'd just found out about the room, and I reckon you'd have banged doors if—Pollyanna stopped short, and eyed her aunt 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. CHAPTER XI 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 mewing 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. Ugg, 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, crooned 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 and 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 hers 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 aid, you know, and Kitty didn'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 half-way 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 for Lauren perhaps than was the kitten. And again Miss Polly, to her dumb-founded 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 calf's foot 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 calf's foot 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 bowlful 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 calf's foot 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-aders and didn't mind, she had sighed at times for some companion of her own age. It's 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 beatin' em for asking questions, sighed 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 Jimmy Bean, and I'm ten years old, goin' on eleven. I come 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 weren't never wanted. Anyhow, I don't believe, so I've quit. I'm goin' to live somewhere else, but I ain't found a place yet. I'd like a home, just a common one, you know, with a mother in it, instead of a matron. If you has a home, ye has folks. And I ain't had folks since dad died, so I'm a-huntin' 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 lady's aid for me, until Aunt Polly said she'd take. Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of a wonderful idea began to show on 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? Even they didn't 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? Would she now? I'd work, you know, and I'm real strong. He bared a small bony arm. Of course she would. Why 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 at first, but there's screens now so it won't be so hot, and the flies can't get in either, to bring in the germ 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 Pollyanna. Thinking suddenly that she needed the rest of her breath for purposes other than talking. Gory exclaimed Jimmy being tersely and uncomprehendingly, but admiringly. Then he added, I shouldn't think anybody who could talk like that, runnin', would need to ask no questions to fill up time with. Pollyanna 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, Pollyanna, unhesitatingly, piloted her companion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt. Oh, Aunt Polly, she triumphed. Just look here. I've got something ever so much nicer, even than fluffy and buffy for you to bring up. It's a real live boy. You 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. Pollyanna, 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. Pollyanna 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 being Aunt Polly. Well what is he doing here? Why Aunt Polly, I just told you. Pollyanna'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 to 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, Pollyanna. This is a little 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 of you. I was calculating to work, of course, for my boredom keep. I wouldn't have come to your old house anyway if this year a girl hadn't have made me, telling me how you were so good and kind that you'd be just 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 Pollyanna, but 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 the preemptory 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. But she rallied her forces with the last atom of her will-power. Pollyanna, 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 Pollyanna's jaw dropped. Why Aunt Polly, she breathed. I should think you'd be glad to have me, gla—oh! 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, Pollyanna 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, nothing. I ain't blaming you, retorted the boy sullenly, but I ain't no beggar, he added, a sudden spirit. Of course you aren't. But you mustn't blame Auntie, appealed Pollyanna. Probably I didn't do the introducing right anyhow, and I reckon I didn't tell her much who you were. She is good in kind, really. She's always been, but I probably didn't explain it right. I do 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. Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned. Her face illumined. Say, I'll tell you what I will do. The lady's aid meets this afternoon. I heard Aunt 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, I ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides, what is a lady's aid? Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval. Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up? Not to know what a lady's aid is. Oh, all right, if you ain't tellin', grunted the boy, turning and beginning to walk away indifferently. Pollyanna sprang to his side at once. It's, it's, why, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sow and give suppers and raise money and talk. That's what a lady's aid is. 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 going to stand round and hear a whole lot of women call me a beggar, instead of just one. Not much. Oh, but you wouldn't be there, argued Pollyanna quickly. I'd go alone, of course, and tell them. You would? Yes, and I'd tell it better this time, hurried on Pollyanna, quick to see the signs of her linting in the boy's face. And there'd be some of them I know 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 Pollyanna 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 a churnight, churn 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, nodded Pollyanna with understanding eyes, but I'm sure when I see you tomorrow, I'll have just a common home and folks that do care all ready 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 up stairs, and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In her ears still was the boy's scornful, you was so kind and good. In her heart was a curious sense of desolation as of something lost. End of chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 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. Pollyanna, 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 weirdly. There, there, 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. Pollyanna'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. Pollyanna 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. Pollyanna 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, Pollyanna 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. Pollyanna 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 there for 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 a home. And of course, two o'clock always means three, really, to lady's aiders. Quietly, but with confident courage, Pollyanna ascended the chapel 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, Pollyanna pushed open one of the inner doors. The chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna Whittier. I reckon some of you know me maybe. Anyway, I do you, only I don't know you all together 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 Pollyanna 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. Pollyanna 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, it's Jimmy Bean, side Pollyanna. 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 10 years old, going on 11. I thought some of you might like him to live with you, you know. Well, did you ever murmur to voice, breaking the dazed pause that followed Pollyanna's words? With anxious eyes, Pollyanna swept a 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. Pollyanna 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 and 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, Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna 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 Bean tomorrow that the ladies' aid had decided that they would rather send all their money to bring up the little India boys than 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, said Pollyanna to herself, as she trud 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 Bean grow than just a report. End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 13, In Pendleton Woods. Pollyanna 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 it had been a vacation one, as she termed the infrequent days when there was no sewing or cooking lesson. And Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna 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, aside Pollyanna 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 just reckon they'd change and take Jimmy Bean for their little boy all right, she finished, secure in her conviction, but unable to give a reason for it, even to herself. Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked some distance ahead. A moment later he came dashing toward her, still barking. Hello, doggy, hello. Pollyanna 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 with the man, Mr. John Pendleton. She was looking now, hoping to see him. For some minute she watched eagerly, but he did not appear. Then she turned her attention toward the dog. The dog, as even Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna, still keeping to the main path. The little dog seemed frantic now, back and forth, back and forth, between Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna understood, turned and followed him. Straight ahead now the little dog dashed madly, and it was not long before Pollyanna 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 Pollyanna's foot and the man turned his head. With a cry of dismay Pollyanna 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? Pollyanna caught her breath with a little gasp, but as was her habit, she answered the questions literally one by one. Why, Mr. Pendleton, I don't know so very much, and I can't do a great many things, but most of the ladies' aiders, except Mrs. Rosson, said I had real good sense. I heard him say so one day. They 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. Now 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, Auntie 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? Oh, well, when you get into the house, go straight through the vestibule and hall to the door at the end. On the big, flat top desk in the middle of the room, you'll find a telephone. Do you know how to use a telephone? Oh yes, sir, why once went Aunt Polly? Never mind Aunt Polly now cutting 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, shuttered 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 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 purring feet. It was not long before she came inside 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 gray stone with its pillared verandas and its imposing entrance. Posing only a moment, however, she sped across the big neglected lawn and around the house to the side door under the Port Couchere. Her fingers, stiff from their tight clutch upon the keys, were anything but skillful in their efforts to turn the bolt in 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 through a long shaft of gold across the floor, gleamed 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 at 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 is 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 man and the 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 taste. 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 went several times and groaned once, softly while the change was 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. Well, 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 cheerly. Well, my little lady, playing nurse. Oh, no, sir, smiled Pollyanna. I've only held his head. I haven't given him a mite 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. Chapter 14 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 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 would say I am either. She won't have the chance, retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction. She's gone. Gone, gassed Polly. 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. She had to go. She had one of them Yeller telegram letters after you 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 it wasn't the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna. It was, Nancy stopped abruptly. A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes. Why, Miss Pollyanna, as if it weren't 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, taint iron, she observed merely. But Pollyanna did not hear. She had begun to tell of the accident. And in a 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 tis natural, he sighed. Of course, things you don't know about are always nicer in things you do. Same as the potato onto 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 or the little India boy this time. I reckon you're far enough away to make a report all right. 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. All right, but don't forget to say I'll work for my board and keep, putin', Jimmy. I ain't no beggar. And business is business, even with ladies' aiders, I'm thinkin'. He hesitated, then added, Anne, I suppose I'd better stay where I be for a spell yet till you hear. Of course, nodded 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 queerest 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 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, sighed 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, sighed Pollyanna, her face clearing. You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs. Rosson was a very ordinary woman, and she disliked Mrs. Rosson 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 Charybdis 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 at 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, Aunt 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 invalids, so he won't last forever as Mrs. Nose 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 and the doctor, and hold his head and 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, acquiesced, 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 cross 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, said Miss Polly, a little stiffly, but I do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna. I know he is cross outside, admitted Pollyanna, sadly. So I suppose you don't like him. But I wouldn't say Twas you sent 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 side 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, I'm, know I'm. Thank you, Aunt Polly, exalted Pollyanna as she flew through the door. End of chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 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 gig stood under the Port Cochère. 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 for 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, genuinely. That will be fine. Maybe you'd like to see our patient, eh? Oh yes, sir, being 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 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-quart 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 very extensive personal acquaintance with the little lady as 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, he 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 book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the same, but there were no litter on the floor, no untidiness 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 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.' And 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, "'Humph!' "'And I've brought you some jelly,' resumed Pollyanna, calf's foot. "'I hope you like it?' There was a rising inflection in her voice. Never ate it. 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 doom's day, I guess.' Pollyanna looked shocked. "'Oh, no. It couldn't be till doom's day, 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 beat a hurried but a very silent retreat. He had the air of a frightened 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 legs don't last, broken ones, you know, like lifelong invalids, same as Mrs. Snow has got. So yours won't last till doom's day 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, Twesent, too, 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. I know what a centipede is. They've got lots of legs. And you could 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. Why, yes, sir, only think how bad it would be if you didn't have them. Well, I, eh, he demanded sharply. Why, I say, 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 disarranges the whole house and calls it regulating, and a man who aids and abets her in it and calls it nursing, and to say nothing of the doctor who eggs him 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, eh? 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 60 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? I'm 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, faltered 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 hope you 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 felt 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, vouchsaved the man, shortly turning away his head. And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room. Under the port kosher, 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, being 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 are a good many things you 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 say 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 the 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, don't 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 and a boarding house. His profession was very dear to him. Looking now into Pollyanna's shining eyes, he felt as if 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 a 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 what he said, too, but there is a way to be glad even then, guess. 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 in Pollyanna. Well, the doctor can be glad because he isn't like other folks, the sick ones. I mean, whatty 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. In 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? Why, Aunt 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 demonstrative 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. Chapter 16 of Pollyanna. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 16. A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl. 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 wherever the loosened pins had given leave. Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this. Oh, oh, oh, why Aunt Polly, you've got them 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. And I never knew you had them. Can folks have them when you don't know they've got them? 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 lady's 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, may Aunt I do your hair like I did Mrs. Snows 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 lady's 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 when I wrote to my lady's aid, because Jimmy is far away from them, you know, and I thought maybe he could be their little India boy, same as Aunt Polly, was I your little India girl? And Aunt Polly, you will let me do your hair, won't you? Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat. The 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. Now wait, just where you are, I'll get a comb. But Pollyanna, Pollyanna, remonstrated 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 will 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, Prattled Pollyanna, contentedly. I did quite a lot of the ladies' aiders, but there wasn't any of them so nice as yours. Mrs. Whites 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, and pretty quick, I'm going to leave you just a minute, and you must promise, promise, promise, not to stern or peak, 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 peaking, 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 color to her cheeks, that she only flushed them 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 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 in 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 Polly Anna enter the room again. Before she could move, then she felt a fold in something slipped across her eyes and tied in the back. Polly Anna, Polly Anna, what are you doing, she cried. Polly Anna 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. But Polly Anna 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. Polly Anna only chuckled the more gleefully. 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. Polly Anna 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 tasks completed, Polly Anna 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. Polly Anna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to? Recoiled aunt Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back. Polly Anna, I shall not. It's just to the sun parlor only a minute. I'll have you ready now quicker in no time, panted Polly Anna, 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, now 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. Polly Anna, 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 Polly Anna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed woman plucking at the pins that held a lace shawl in place. Polly Anna, how could you moan the woman? To think of your rigging me up like this and then letting me be seen. Polly Anna stopped in dismay. But you looked lovely, perfectly lovely Aunt Polly and lovely, scorned the woman, flinging the shawl to one side and attacking her hair with shaking fingers. Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let your hair stay. Stay, like this, as if I would. And Miss Polly pulled the lock so tightly back that the last curls stretched dead at the end of her fingers. Oh, dear, and you did look so pretty, almost sobbed Polly Anna, as she stumbled through the door. Downstairs Polly Anna 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 Polly Anna, a little and certainly. 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. He 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 Polly Anna. Let me ask Aunt Polly. In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with a rather sober face. Didn't your aunt want you to go, asked the doctor, a little diffidently, as they drove away? Yes, sighed Polly Anna. She wanted me to go too much, I'm afraid. Wanted you to go too much? Polly Anna sighed again. Yes, I reckon 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? Polly Anna 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, Polly Anna could but just hear the words. Yes, Polly Anna, I thought she did look just lovely. Did you? I'm so glad, I'll tell her nodded the little girl contentedly. To her surprise the doctor gave a sudden exclamation. Never Polly Anna, 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 cutting the doctor. Polly Anna considered this for a moment. That's so, maybe she wouldn't, she sighed. I remember now, Twas, because she saw you that she ran. And she spoke afterwards about her being seen in that rig. I thought as much, declared the doctor under his breath. Still I don't see why maintain Polly Anna. 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