Pollyanna - Eleanor Hodgman Porter (e ink ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
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With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned toward the closet.
âIâm afraid youâll think theyâre worse than the Ladiesâ Aid didâand THEY said they were shameful,â she sighed. âBut there were mostly things for boys and older folks in the last two or three barrels; andâdid you ever have a missionary barrel, Aunt Polly?â
At her auntâs look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at once.
âWhy, no, of course you didnât, Aunt Polly!â she hurried on, with a hot blush. âI forgot; rich folks never have to have them. But you see sometimes I kind of forget that you are richâup here in this room, you know.â
Miss Pollyâs lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna, plainly unaware that she had said anything in the least unpleasant, was hurrying on.
âWell, as I was going to say, you canât tell a thing about missionary barrelsâexcept that you wonât find in âem what you think youâre going toâeven when you think you wonât. It was the barrels every time, too, that were hardest to play the game on, for father andââ
Just in time Pollyanna remembered that she was not to talk of her father to her aunt. She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out all the poor little dresses in both her arms.
âThey arenât nice, at all,â she choked, âand theyâd been black if it hadnât been for the red carpet for the church; but theyâre all Iâve got.â
With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna. Next she bestowed frowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers.
âIâve got the best ones on,â confessed Pollyanna, anxiously. âThe Ladiesâ Aid bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs. Jonesâsheâs the presidentâtold âem I should have that if they had to clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days. But they wonât. Mr. White doesnât like the noise. Heâs got nerves, his wife says; but heâs got money, too, and they expect heâll give a lot toward the carpetâon account of the nerves, you know. I should think heâd be glad that if he did have the nerves heâd got money, too; shouldnât you?â
Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly.
âYou have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?â
âOh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fathâI mean, I was taught at home some, too.â
Miss Polly frowned.
âVery good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course. Mr. Hall, the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong. Meanwhile, I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an hour each day.â
âI love to read; but if you donât want to hear me Iâd be just glad to read to myselfâtruly, Aunt Polly. And I wouldnât have to half try to be glad, either, for I like best to read to myselfâon account of the big words, you know.â
âI donât doubt it,â rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. Have you studied music?â
âNot much. I donât like my musicâI like other peopleâs, though. I learned to play on the piano a little. Miss Grayâshe plays for churchâshe taught me. But Iâd just as soon let that go as not, Aunt Polly. Iâd rather, truly.â
âVery likely,â observed Aunt Polly, with slightly uplifted eyebrows. âNevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are properly instructed in at least the rudiments of music. You sew, of course.â
âYes, maâam.â Pollyanna sighed. The Ladiesâ Aid taught me that. But I had an awful time. Mrs. Jones didnât believe in holding your needle like the rest of âem did on buttonholing, and Mrs. White thought backstitching ought to be taught you before hemming (or else the other way), and Mrs. Harriman didnât believe in putting you on patchwork ever, at all.â
âWell, there will be no difficulty of that kind any longer, Pollyanna. I shall teach you sewing myself, of course. You do not know how to cook, I presume.â
Pollyanna laughed suddenly.
âThey were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I hadnât got far. They were more divided up on that than they were on the sewing. They were GOING to begin on bread; but there wasnât two of âem that made it alike, so after arguing it all one sewing-meeting, they decided to take turns at me one forenoon a weekâin their own kitchens, you know. Iâd only learned chocolate fudge and fig cake, though, whenâwhen I had to stop.â Her voice broke.
âChocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed!â scorned Miss Polly. âI think we can remedy that very soon. âShe paused in thought for a minute, then went on slowly: âAt nine oâclock every morning you will read aloud one half-hour to me. Before that you will use the time to put this room in order. Wednesday and Saturday forenoons, after half-past nine, you will spend with Nancy in the kitchen, learning to cook. Other mornings you will sew with me. That will leave the afternoons for your music. I shall, of course, procure a teacher at once for you,â she finished decisively, as she arose from her chair.
Pollyanna cried out in dismay.
âOh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you havenât left me any time at all just toâto live.â
âTo live, child! What do you mean? As if you werenât living all the time!â
âOh, of course Iâd be BREATHING all the time I was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldnât be living. You breathe all the time youâre asleep, but you arenât living. I mean livingâdoing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. Thatâs what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isnât living!â
Miss Polly lifted her head irritably.
âPollyanna, you ARE the most extraordinary child! You will be allowed a proper amount of playtime, of course. But, surely, it seems to me if I am willing to do my duty in seeing that you have proper care and instruction, YOU ought to be willing to do yours by seeing that that care and instruction are not ungratefully wasted.â
Pollyanna looked shocked.
âOh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungratefulâto YOU! Why, I LOVE YOUâand you arenât even a Ladiesâ Aider; youâre an aunt!â
âVery well; then see that you donât act ungrateful,â vouchsafed Miss Polly, as she turned toward the door.
She had gone halfway down the stairs when a small, unsteady voice called after her:
âPlease, Aunt Polly, you didnât tell me which of my things you wanted toâto give away.â
Aunt Polly emitted a tired sighâa sigh that ascended straight to Pollyannaâs ears.
âOh, I forgot to tell you, Pollyanna. Timothy will drive us into town at half-past one this afternoon. Not one of your garments is fit for my niece to wear. Certainly I should be very far from doing my duty by you if I should let you appear out in any one of them.â
Pollyanna sighed nowâshe believed she was going to hate that wordâduty.
âAunt Polly, please,â she called wistfully, âisnât there ANY way you can be glad about all thatâduty business?â
âWhat?â Miss Polly looked up in dazed surprise; then, suddenly, with very red cheeks, she turned and swept angrily down the stairs. âDonât be impertinent, Pollyanna!â
In the hot little attic room Pollyanna dropped herself on to one of the straight-backed chairs. To her, existence loomed ahead one endless round of duty.
âI donât see, really, what there was impertinent about that,â she sighed. âI was only asking her if she couldnât tell me something to be glad about in all that duty business.â
For several minutes Pollyanna sat in silence, her rueful eyes fixed on the forlorn heap of garments on the bed. Then, slowly, she rose and began to put away the dresses.
âThere just isnât anything to be glad about, that I can see,â she said aloud; âunlessâitâs to be glad when the dutyâs done!â Whereupon she laughed suddenly.
CHAPTER VII. POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS
At half-past one oâclock Timothy drove Miss Polly and her niece to the four or five principal dry goods stores, which were about half a mile from the homestead.
Fitting Pollyanna with a new wardrobe proved to be more or less of an exciting experience for all concerned. Miss Polly came out of it with the feeling of limp relaxation that one might have at finding oneself at last on solid earth after a perilous walk across the very thin crust of a volcano. The various clerks who had waited upon the pair came out of it with very red faces, and enough amusing stories of Pollyanna to keep their friends in gales of laughter the rest of the week. Pollyanna herself came out of it with radiant smiles and a heart content; for, as she expressed it to one of the clerks: âWhen you havenât had anybody but missionary barrels and Ladiesâ Aiders to dress you, it IS perfectly lovely to just walk right in and buy clothes that are brand-new, and that donât have to be tucked up or let down because they donât fit!â
The shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon; then came supper and a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden, and another with Nancy on the back porch, after the dishes were done, and while Aunt Polly paid a visit to a neighbor.
Old Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her mother, that made her very happy indeed; and Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles away at âThe Corners,â where lived her own dear mother, and her equally dear brother and sisters. She promised, too, that sometime, if Miss Polly were willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them.
âAnd THEYâVE got lovely names, too. Youâll like THEIR names,â sighed Nancy. âTheyâre âAlgernon,â and âFlorabelleâ and âEstelle.â IâI just hate âNancyâ!â
âOh, Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say! Why?â
âBecause it isnât pretty like the others. You see, I was the first baby, and mother hadnât begun ter read so many stories with the pretty names in âem, then.â
âBut I love âNancy,â just because itâs you,â declared Pollyanna.
âHumph! Well, I guess you could love âClarissa Mabelleâ just as well,â retorted Nancy, and it would be a heap happier for me. I think THAT nameâs just grand!â
Pollyanna laughed.
âWell, anyhow,â she chuckled, âyou can be glad it isnât âHephzibah.â
âHephzibah!â
âYes. Mrs. Whiteâs name is that. Her husband calls her âHep,â and she doesnât like it. She says when he calls out âHepâHep!â she feels just as if the next minute he was going to yell âHurrah!â And she doesnât like to be hurrahed at.â
Nancyâs gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile.
âWell, if you donât beat the Dutch! Say, do you know?âI shaânât never hear âNancyâ now that I donât think oâ that âHepâHep!â and giggle. My, I guess I AM gladââ She stopped short and turned amazed eyes on the little girl. âSay, Miss Pollyanna, do you meanâwas you playinâ that âere game THENâabout my beinâ glad I waânât named Hephzibahâ?â
Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed.
âWhy, Nancy, thatâs so! I WAS playing the gameâbut thatâs one of the times I just did it without thinking, I reckon. You see, you DO, lots of times;
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