Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter


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 47

"All right--but don't furgit ter say I'll work fur my board an'
keep," put in Jimmy. "I ain't no beggar, an' biz'ness is
biz'ness, even with Ladies' Aiders, I'm thinkin'." He hesitated,
then added: "An' I s'pose I better stay where I be fur a spell
yet--till you hear."

"Of course," nodded Pollyanna emphatically. "Then I'll know just
where to find you. And they'll take you--I'm sure you're far
enough away for that. Didn't Aunt Polly take--Say!" she broke
off, suddenly, "DO you suppose I was Aunt Polly's little girl
from India?"

"Well, if you ain't the queerest kid," grinned Jimmy, as he
turned away.

It was about a week after the accident in Pendleton Woods that
Pollyanna said to her aunt one morning:

"Aunt Polly, please would you mind very much if I took Mrs.
Snow's calf's-foot jelly this week to some one else? I'm sure
Mrs. Snow wouldn't--this once."

"Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now?" sighed her aunt.
"You ARE the most extraordinary child!"

Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously.

"Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you're
EXtraordinary you can't be ORdinary, can you?"

"You certainly can not."

"Oh, that's all right, then. I'm glad I'm EXtraordinary," sighed
Pollyanna, her face clearing. "You see, Mrs. White used to say
Mrs. Rawson was a very ordinary woman--and she disliked Mrs.
Rawson something awful. They were always fight--I mean, father
had--that is, I mean, WE had more trouble keeping peace between
them than we did between any of the rest of the Aiders,"
corrected Pollyanna, a little breathless from her efforts to
steer between the Scylla of her father's past commands in regard
to speaking of church quarrels, and the Charybdis of her aunt's
present commands in regard to speaking of her father.

"Yes, yes; well, never mind," interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle
impatiently. "You do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter what
we're talking about you always bring up at those Ladies' Aiders!"

"Yes'm," smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, "I reckon I do, maybe. But
you see they used to bring me up, and--"

"That will do, Pollyanna," interrupted a cold voice. "Now what is
it about this jelly?"

"Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, I'm sure. You
let me take jelly to HER, so I thought you would to HIM--this
once. You see, broken legs aren't like--like lifelong invalids,
so his won't last forever as Mrs. Snow's does, and she can have
all the rest of the things after just once or twice."

" 'Him'? 'He'? 'Broken leg'? What are you talking about,
Pollyanna?"

Pollyanna stared; then her face relaxed.

"Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn't know. You see, it happened
while you were gone. It was the very day you went that I found
him in the woods, you know; and I had to unlock his house and
telephone for the men and the doctor, and hold his head, and
everything. And of course then I came away and haven't seen him
since. But when Nancy made the jelly for Mrs. Snow this week I
thought how nice it would be if I could take it to him instead of
her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I?"

"Yes, yes, I suppose so," acquiesced Miss Polly, a little
wearily. "Who did you say he was?"

"The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton."

Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair.

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 23rd Dec 2025, 19:23