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Page 21
"I don't doubt it," rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. "Have you studied
music?"
"Not much. I don't like my music--I like other people's, though.
I learned to play on the piano a little. Miss Gray--she plays for
church--she taught me. But I'd just as soon let that go as not,
Aunt Polly. I'd rather, truly."
"Very likely," observed Aunt Polly, with slightly uplifted
eyebrows. "Nevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are
properly instructed in at least the rudiments of music. You sew,
of course."
"Yes, ma'am." Pollyanna sighed. "The Ladies' Aid taught me that.
But I had an awful time. Mrs. Jones didn't believe in holding
your needle like the rest of 'em did on buttonholing, and Mrs.
White thought backstitching ought to be taught you before hemming
(or else the other way), and Mrs. Harriman didn't believe in
putting you on patchwork ever, at all."
"Well, 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."
Pollyanna laughed suddenly.
"They were just beginning to teach me that this summer, but I
hadn't got far. They were more divided up on that than they were
on the sewing. They were GOING to begin on bread; but there
wasn't two of 'em that made it alike, so after arguing it all one
sewing-meeting, they decided to take turns at me one forenoon a
week--in their own kitchens, you know. I'd only learned chocolate
fudge and fig cake, though, when--when I had to stop." Her voice
broke.
"Chocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed!" scorned Miss Polly. "I
think we can remedy that very soon." She paused in thought for a
minute, then went on slowly: "At nine o'clock 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," she finished decisively, as she arose
from her chair.
Pollyanna cried out in dismay.
"Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at
all just to--to live."
"To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all
the time!"
"Oh, of course I'd be BREATHING all the time I was doing those
things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the
time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living--doing
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. That's what I call living, Aunt Polly.
Just breathing isn't living!"
Miss Polly lifted her head irritably.
"Pollyanna, 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."
Pollyanna looked shocked.
"Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be ungrateful--to YOU! Why, I
LOVE YOU--and you aren't even a Ladies' Aider; you're an aunt!"
"Very well; then see that you don't act ungrateful," vouchsafed
Miss Polly, as she turned toward the door.
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