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Page 60
"Oh-h!" breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. "But, Nancy,
I should think if they loved each other they'd make up some time.
Both of 'em all alone, so, all these years. I should think they'd
be glad to make up!"
Nancy sniffed disdainfully.
"I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna.
You ain't big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o' folks
in the world that wouldn't have no use for that 'ere 'glad game'
o' your'n, it'd be a pair o' quarrellin' lovers; and that's what
they be. Ain't he cross as sticks, most gen'rally?--and ain't
she--"
Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and
about whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.
"I ain't sayin', though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a
pretty slick piece of business if you could GET 'em ter playin'
it--so they WOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn't
folks stare some--Miss Polly and him! I guess, though, there
ain't much chance, much chance!"
Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little
later, her face was very thoughtful.
CHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS
As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to
the great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however,
that her visits were really a success. Not but that the man
seemed to want her there--he sent for her, indeed, frequently;
but that when she was there, he seemed scarcely any the happier
for her presence--at least, so Pollyanna thought.
He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and
beautiful things--books, pictures, and curios. But he still
fretted audibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly
under the rules and "regulatings" of the unwelcome members of his
household. He did, indeed, seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk,
however, and Pollyanna talked, Pollyanna liked to talk--but she
was never sure that she would not look up and find him lying back
on his pillow with that white, hurt look that always pained her;
and she was never sure which--if any--of her words had brought it
there. As for telling him the "glad game," and trying to get him
to play it--Pollyanna had never seen the time yet when she
thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice tried to
tell him; but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of
what her father had said--John Pendleton had on each occasion
turned the conversation abruptly to another subject.
Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt
Polly's one-time lover; and with all the strength of her loving,
loyal heart, she wished she could in some way bring happiness
into their to her mind--miserably lonely lives.
Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She
talked to Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened,
sometimes politely, sometimes irritably, frequently with a
quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her aunt
about Mr. Pendleton--or rather, she tried to talk to her about
him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would not
listen--long. She always found something else to talk about. She
frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of
others--of Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this,
though, to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her
in the sun parlor with the rose in her hair and the lace shawl
draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly, indeed, seemed
particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found out
one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house.
"If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,"
Aunt Polly said.
"Shall you? Then I'm going to be worse," gurgled Pollyanna. "I'd
love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me!"
She wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt's face.
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