|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 12
"Pollyanna," interrupted her aunt again, sharply, "there is one
thing that might just as well be understood right away at once;
and that is, I do not care to have you keep talking of your
father to me."
The little girl drew in her breath tremulously.
"Why, Aunt Polly, you--you mean--" She hesitated, and her aunt
filled the pause.
"We will go up-stairs to your room. Your trunk is already there,
I presume. I told Timothy to take it up--if you had one. You may
follow me, Pollyanna."
Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the
room. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely
high.
"After all, I--I reckon I'm glad she doesn't want me to talk
about father," Pollyanna was thinking. "It'll be easier,
maybe--if I don't talk about him. Probably, anyhow, that is why
she told me not to talk about him." And Pollyanna, convinced anew
of her aunt's "kindness," blinked off the tears and looked
eagerly about her.
She was on the stairway now. Just ahead, her aunt's black silk
skirt rustled luxuriously. Behind her an open door allowed a
glimpse of soft-tinted rugs and satin-covered chairs. Beneath her
feet a marvellous carpet was like green moss to the tread. On
every side the gilt of picture frames or the glint of sunlight
through the filmy mesh of lace curtains flashed in her eyes.
"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly," breathed the little girl,
rapturously; "what a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully
glad you must be you're so rich!"
"PollyANNA!" ejaculated her aunt, turning sharply about as she
reached the head of the stairs. "I'm surprised at you--making a
speech like that to me!"
"Why, Aunt Polly, AREN'T you?" queried Pollyanna, in frank
wonder.
"Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not so far forget
myself as to be sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit
to bestow upon me," declared the lady; "certainly not, of
RICHES!"
Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic
stairway door. She was glad, now, that she had put the child in
the attic room. Her idea at first had been to get her niece as
far away as possible from herself, and at the same time place her
where her childish heedlessness would not destroy valuable
furnishings. Now--with this evident strain of vanity showing thus
early--it was all the more fortunate that the room planned for
her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly.
Eagerly Pollyanna's small feet pattered behind her aunt. Still
more eagerly her big blue eyes tried to look in all directions at
once, that no thing of beauty or interest in this wonderful house
might be passed unseen. Most eagerly of all her mind turned to
the wondrously exciting problem about to be solved: behind which
of all these fascinating doors was waiting now her room--the
dear, beautiful room full of curtains, rugs, and pictures, that
was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, her aunt opened a door
and ascended another stairway.
There was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either
side. At the top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led
to far corners where the roof came almost down to the floor, and
where were stacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot and
stifling, too. Unconsciously Pollyanna lifted her head higher--it
seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown
open a door at the right.
"There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I
see. Have you your key?"
Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and
frightened.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|