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Page 77
With an imploring look into the nurse's face, Miss Polly
struggled to her feet, and turned away. The nurse came forward
quickly.
"Suppose you let me talk to you now," she began cheerily. "I'm
sure I think it's high time we were getting acquainted, and I'm
going to introduce myself. I am Miss Hunt, and I've come to help
your aunt take care of you. And the very first thing I'm going to
do is to ask you to swallow these little white pills for me."
Pollyanna's eyes grew a bit wild.
"But I don't want to be taken care of--that is, not for long! I
want to get up. You know I go to school. Can't I go to school
to-morrow?"
From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a
half-stifled cry.
"To-morrow?" smiled the nurse, brightly.
"Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss
Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills for me, please,
and we'll see what THEY'LL do."
"All right," agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; "but I MUST
go to school day after to-morrow--there are examinations then,
you know."
She spoke again, a minute later. She spoke of school, and of the
automobile, and of how her head ached; but very soon her voice
trailed into silence under the blessed influence of the little
white pills she had swallowed.
CHAPTER XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON
Pollyanna did not go to school "to-morrow," nor the "day after
to-morrow." Pollyanna, however, did not realize this, except
momentarily when a brief period of full consciousness sent
insistent questions to her lips. Pollyanna did not realize
anything, in fact, very clearly until a week had passed; then the
fever subsided, the pain lessened somewhat, and her mind awoke to
full consciousness. She had then to be told all over again what
had occurred.
"And so it's hurt that I am, and not sick," she sighed at last.
"Well, I'm glad of that."
"G-glad, Pollyanna?" asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed.
"Yes. I'd so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton's
than life-long-invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get
well, and lifelong-invalids don't."
Miss Polly--who had said nothing whatever about broken legs--got
suddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table
across the room. She was picking up one object after another now,
and putting each down, in an aimless fashion quite unlike her
usual decisiveness. Her face was not aimless-looking at all,
however; it was white and drawn.
On the bed Pollyanna lay blinking at the dancing band of colors
on the ceiling, which came from one of the prisms in the window.
"I'm glad it isn't smallpox that ails me, too," she murmured
contentedly. "That would be worse than freckles. And I'm glad
'tisn't whooping cough--I've had that, and it's horrid--and I'm
glad 'tisn't appendicitis nor measles, 'cause they're
catching--measles are, I mean--and they wouldn't let you stay
here."
"You seem to--to be glad for a good many things, my dear,"
faltered Aunt Polly, putting her hand to her throat as if her
collar bound.
Pollyanna laughed softly.
"I am. I've been thinking of 'em--lots of 'em--all the time I've
been looking up at that rainbow. I love rainbows. I'm so glad Mr.
Pendleton gave me those prisms! I'm glad of some things I haven't
said yet. I don't know but I'm 'most glad I was hurt."
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