Поллианна / Pollyanna. Элинор Портер

But now I must go. I’ll think about it all the way home. Goodbye!”

      “What does she mean by that?” Mrs. Snow thought. She turned her head and picked up the mirror.

      “That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake,[49]” she said.

      When a little later, Milly, Mrs. Snow’s daughter, came in, she said,

      “I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress – instead of lamb broth, for a change!”

      Chapter IX. Which Tells of the Man

      It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, with a smile.

      “How do you do?” she called.

      The man stopped abruptly.

      “See here, why don’t you find someone your own age to talk to?”

      “I’d like to, sir, but there aren’t any around here. Still, I don’t mind so very much. I like old folks[50] just as well, maybe better, sometimes – being used to the Ladies’ Aid, so.”

      “Humph! The Ladies’ Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for?”

      Pollyanna laughed gleefully.

      “Oh, no, sir. You don’t look like a Ladies’ Aider. Though I’m sure you’re much nicer than you look!”

      The man turned and strode on as before.

      The next time Pollyanna met the Man, he greeted her. The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke first, though usually he said just “good afternoon.” Even that was a great surprise to Nancy.

      “Miss Pollyanna,” she gasped, “did that man SPEAK TO YOU?”

      “Why, yes, he always does – now,” smiled Pollyanna.

      “‘He always does’! Do you know who – he – is?” demanded Nancy.

      Pollyanna frowned and shook her head.[51]

      “I reckon he forgot to tell me one day.”

      “But he never speaks to anybody, I guess, except when he speaks about business. He’s John Pendleton. He lives in the big house on Pendleton Hill. He is very rich. But he doesn’t spend money he just saves it. Usually he doesn’t speak to anyone; and he lives all alone in that great big lovely house all full of grand things, they say. Some people even think he’s crazy. And EVERYBODY says he’s mysterious.” She went on: “He travels a lot and writes books.”

      “Oh, Nancy!” Pollyanna exclaimed. “He is a funny man, and he’s different, too, just like Mrs. Snow, only he’s a different differently.”

      “Well, I guess he is,” chuckled Nancy.

      “I’m so glad that he speaks to me,” sighed Pollyanna contentedly.

      Chapter X. A Surprise for Mrs. Snow

      The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room.

      “It’s the little girl from Miss Polly’s, mother,” announced Milly.

      “Oh, it’s you?” asked a voice from the bed. I wish you had come yesterday.”

      “Did you? Well, I’m glad,” Pollyanna entered the room and set her basket carefully down on a chair. “It’s so dark here! I can’t see you,” she cried. After that Pollyanna pulled up the shade.[52]

      Mrs. Snow turned her eyes toward the basket. “Well, what is it?”

      “Guess! What do you want?”

      The sick woman frowned.

      “Why, I don’t WANT anything,” she sighed. “After all, they all taste alike!”

      Pollyanna chuckled.

      “If you DID want something, what would it be?”

      The woman hesitated.

      “Well, of course, there’s lamb broth – ”

      “I’ve got it!” crowed Pollyanna.

      “But that’s what I DIDN’T want,[53]” sighed the sick woman. “It was chicken I wanted.”

      “Oh, I’ve got that, too,” chuckled Pollyanna.

      The woman turned in amazement.

      “Both of them?” she demanded.

      “Yes – and calf’s-foot jelly,” triumphed Pollyanna. “I was just bound you should have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. “I’ll leave them all,” announced Pollyanna.

      Suddenly Milly appeared at the door.

      “Your aunt is wanting you,[54] Miss Pollyanna.

      Pollyanna rose.

      “All right,” she sighed. “Goodbye, 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. Her aunt usually replied:

      “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.[55]”

      “Is just being glad isn’t pro-fi-ta-ble?” asked Pollyanna, a little anxiously.

      “Certainly not.”

      “Oh dear! 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. “N-nothing,” she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.

      It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway.

      “Why, Aunt Polly,” she cried. “You were coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company,” said Pollyanna, “especially since I’ve had this room,[56] all mine, you know. And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasn’t got the carpets and curtains and pictures – ” With a painful blush Pollyanna stopped.

      “What’s that, Pollyanna?”

      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.”

      Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red.

      “That will do,[57] Pollyanna,” she said.