Pollyanna - Eleanor Hodgman Porter (e ink ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
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âWell, weâve heard now that sheâs fretting her poor little life out of her, because she canât play it no moreâthat thereâs nothing to be glad about. And thatâs what I came to tell her to-dayâthat maybe she can be a little glad for us, âcause weâve decided to stick to each other, and play the game ourselves. I knew she would be glad, because she used to feel kind of badâat things we said, sometimes. Just how the game is going to help us, I canât say that I exactly see, yet; but maybe âtwill. Anyhow, weâre going to tryââcause she wanted us to. Will you tell her?â
âYes, I will tell her,â promised Miss Polly, a little faintly. Then, with sudden impulse, she stepped forward and held out her hand. âAnd thank you for coming, Mrs. Payson,â 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.
âNancy!â
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 Pollyannaâs accident had Nancy heard her mistress speak so sternly.
âNancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd âgameâ is that the whole town seems to be babbling about? And what, please, has my niece to do with it? WHY does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her that theyâre âplaying itâ? 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 tried to ask the child herself about it, but I canât seem to make much headway, and of course I donât like to worry herânow. 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?â
To Miss Pollyâs surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears.
âIt means that ever since last June that blessed child has jest been makinâ the whole town glad, anâ now theyâre turninâ âround anâ tryinâ ter make her a little glad, too.â
âGlad of what?â
âJust glad! Thatâs the game.â
Miss Polly actually stamped her foot.
âThere you go like all the rest, Nancy. What game?â
Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked her squarely in the eye.
âIâll tell ye, maâam. Itâs a game Miss Pollyannaâs father learned her ter play. She got a pair of crutches once in a missionary barrel when she was wantinâ a doll; anâ she cried, of course, like any child would. It seems âtwas then her father told her that there wasnât ever anythinâ but what there was somethinâ about it that you could be glad about; anâ that she could be glad about them crutches.â
âGlad forâCRUTCHES!â Miss Polly choked back a sobâshe was thinking of the helpless little legs on the bed up-stairs.
âYesâm. Thatâs what I said, anâ Miss Pollyanna said thatâs what she said, too. But he told her she COULD be gladââcause she DIDNâT NEED âEM.â
âOh-h!â cried Miss Polly.
âAnd after that she said he made a regular game of itâfindinâ somethinâ in everythinâ ter be glad about. Anâ she said ye could do it, too, and that ye didnât seem ter mind not havinâ the doll so much, âcause ye was so glad ye DIDNâT need the crutches. Anâ they called it the âjest beinâ gladâ game. Thatâs the game, maâam. Sheâs played it ever since.â
âBut, howâhowââ Miss Polly came to a helpless pause.
âAnâ youâd be surprised ter find how cute it works, maâam, too,â maintained Nancy, with almost the eagerness of Pollyanna herself. âI wish I could tell ye what a lot sheâs done for mother anâ the folks out home. Sheâs been ter see âem, ye know, twice, with me. Sheâs made me glad, too, on such a lot oâ thingsâlittle things, anâ big things; anâ itâs made âem so much easier. For instance, I donât mind âNancyâ for a name half as much since she told me I could be glad âtwaânât âHephzibah.â Anâ thereâs Monday morninâs, too, that I used ter hate so. Sheâs actually made me glad for Monday morninâs.â
âGladâfor Monday mornings!â
Nancy laughed.
âI know it does sound nutty, maâam. But let me tell ye. That blessed lamb found out I hated Monday morninâs somethinâ awful; anâ what does she up anâ tell me one day but this: âWell, anyhow, Nancy, I should think you could be gladder on Monday morninâ than on any other day in the week, because âtwould be a whole WEEK before youâd have another one!â Anâ Iâm blest if I hainât thought of it evâry Monday morninâ sinceâanâ it HAS helped, maâam. It made me laugh, anyhow, evâry time I thought of it; anâ laughinâ helps, ye knowâit does, it does!â
âBut why hasnâtâshe told meâthe game?â faltered Miss Polly. âWhy has she made such a mystery of it, when I asked her?â
Nancy hesitated.
âBegginâ yer pardon, maâam, you told her not ter speak ofâher father; so she couldnât tell ye. âTwas her fatherâs game, ye see.â
Miss Polly bit her lip.
âShe wanted ter tell ye, first off,â continued Nancy, a little unsteadily. âShe wanted somebody ter play it with, ye know. Thatâs why I begun it, so she could have some one.â
âAndâandâthese others?â Miss Pollyâs voice shook now.
âOh, evârybody, âmost, knows it now, I guess. Anyhow, I should think they did from the way Iâm hearinâ of it evârywhere I go. Of course she told a lot, and they told the rest. Them things go, ye know, when they gets started. Anâ she was always so smilinâ anâ pleasant ter evâry one, anâ soâso jest glad herself all the time, that they couldnât help knowinâ it, anyhow. Now, since sheâs hurt, evârybody feels so badâspecially when they heard how bad SHE feels âcause she canât find anythinâ ter be glad about. Anâ so theyâve been cominâ evâry day ter tell her how glad sheâs made THEM, hopinâ thatâll help some. Ye see, sheâs always wanted evârybody ter play the game with her.â
âWell, I know somebody whoâll play itânow,â choked Miss Polly, as she turned and sped through the kitchen doorway.
Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly.
âWell, Iâll believe anythinââanythinâ now,â she muttered to herself. âYe canât stump me with anythinâ I wouldnât believe, nowâoâ Miss Polly!â
A little later, in Pollyannaâs room, the nurse left Miss Polly and Pollyanna alone together.
âAnd youâve had still another caller to-day, my dear,â announced Miss Polly, in a voice she vainly tried to steady. âDo you remember Mrs. Payson?â
âMrs. Payson? Why, I reckon I do! She lives on the way to Mr. Pendletonâs, and sheâs got the prettiest little girl baby three years old, and a boy âmost five. Sheâs awfully nice, and soâs her husbandâonly they donât seem to know how nice each other is. Sometimes they fightâI mean, they donât quite agree. Theyâre poor, too, they say, and of course they donât ever have barrels, âcause he isnât a missionary minister, you know, likeâwell, he isnât.â
A faint color stole into Pollyannaâs cheeks which was duplicated suddenly in those of her aunt.
âBut she wears real pretty clothes, sometimes, in spite of their being so poor,â resumed Pollyanna, in some haste. âAnd sheâs got perfectly beautiful rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in them; but she says sheâs got one ring too many, and that sheâs going to throw it away and get a divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? Iâm afraid it isnât very nice, because she didnât look happy when she talked about it. And she said if she did get it, they wouldnât live there any more, and that Mr. Payson would go âway off, and maybe the children, too. But I should think theyâd rather keep the ring, even if they did have so many more. Shouldnât you? Aunt Polly, what is a divorce?â
âBut they arenât going âway off, dear,â evaded Aunt Polly, hurriedly. âTheyâre going to stay right there together.â
âOh, Iâm so glad! Then theyâll be there when I go up to seeâO dear!â broke off the little girl, miserably. âAunt Polly, why CANâT I remember that my legs donât go any more, and that I wonât ever, ever go up to see Mr. Pendleton again?â
âThere, there, donât,â choked her aunt. âPerhaps youâll drive up sometime. But listen! I havenât told you, yet, all that Mrs. Payson said. She wanted me to tell you that theyâthey were going to stay together and to play the game, just as you wanted them to.â
Pollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes.
âDid they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of that!â
âYes, she said she hoped youâd be. Thatâs why she told you, to make youâGLAD, Pollyanna.â
Pollyanna looked up quickly.
âWhy, Aunt Polly, youâyou spoke just as if you knewâDO you know about the game, Aunt Polly?â
âYes, dear.â Miss Polly sternly forced her voice to be cheerfully matter-of-fact. âNancy told me. I think itâs a beautiful game. Iâm going to play it nowâwith you.â
âOh, Aunt PollyâYOU? Iâm so glad! You see, Iâve really wanted you most of anybody, all the time.â
Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It was even harder this time to keep her voice steady; but she did it.
âYes, dear; and there are all those others, too. Why, Pollyanna, I think all the town is playing that game now with youâeven to the minister! I havenât 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 hadnât stopped being glad over those eight hundred rejoicing texts that you told him about. So you see, dear, itâs just you that have done it. The whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happierâand all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game, and how to play it.â
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
âOh, Iâm so glad,â she cried. Then, suddenly, a wonderful light illumined her face. âWhy, Aunt Polly, there IS something I can be glad about, after all. I can be glad Iâve HAD my legs, anywayâelse I couldnât have doneâthat!â
CHAPTER XXIX. THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW
One by one the short winter days came and wentâbut they were not short to Pollyanna. They were long, and sometimes full of pain. Very resolutely, these days, however, Pollyanna 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 waifs in a snow-storm who found a blown-down door to crawl under, and who wondered what poor folks did that didnât have any door! And it was
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