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Page 90
A little later, that same day, there was the other widow--at
least, she wore widow's garments. Miss Polly did not know her at
all. She wondered vaguely how Pollyanna could have known her. The
lady gave her name as "Mrs. Tarbell."
"I'm a stranger to you, of course," she began at once. "But I'm
not a stranger to your little niece, Pollyanna. I've been at the
hotel all summer, and every day I've had to take long walks for
my health. It was on these walks that I've met your niece--she's
such a dear little girl! I wish I could make you understand what
she's been to me. I was very sad when I came up here; and her
bright face and cheery ways reminded me of--my own little girl
that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear of the accident;
and then when I learned that the poor child would never walk
again, and that she was so unhappy because she couldn't be glad
any longer--the dear child!--I just had to come to you."
"You are very kind," murmured Miss Polly.
"But it is you who are to be kind," demurred the other. "I--I
want you to give her a message from me. Will you?"
"Certainly."
"Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now.
Yes, I know it sounds odd, and you don't understand. But--if
you'll pardon me I'd rather not explain." Sad lines came to the
lady's mouth, and the smile left her eyes. "Your niece will know
just what I mean; and I felt that I must tell--her. Thank you;
and pardon me, please, for any seeming rudeness in my call," she
begged, as she took her leave.
Thoroughly mystified now, Miss Polly hurried up-stairs to
Pollyanna's room.
"Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?"
"Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She's sick, and awfully sad; and
she's at the hotel, and takes long walks. We go together. I
mean--we used to." Pollyanna's voice broke, and two big tears
rolled down her cheeks.
Miss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly.
"We'll, she's just been here, dear. She left a message for
you--but she wouldn't tell me what it meant. She said to tell you
that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now."
Pollyanna clapped her hands softly.
"Did she say that--really? Oh, I'm so glad!"
"But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?"
"Why, it's the game, and--" Pollyanna stopped short, her fingers
to her lips.
"What game?"
"N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is--I can't tell it unless I
tell other things that--that I'm not to speak of."
It was on Miss Polly's tongue to question her niece further; but
the obvious distress on the little girl's face stayed the words
before they were uttered.
Not long after Mrs. Tarbell's visit, the climax came. It came in
the shape of a call from a certain young woman with unnaturally
pink cheeks and abnormally yellow hair; a young woman who wore
high heels and cheap jewelry; a young woman whom Miss Polly knew
very well by reputation--but whom she was angrily amazed to meet
beneath the roof of the Harrington homestead.
Miss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew back, indeed, as she
entered the room.
The woman rose at once. Her eyes were very red, as if she had
been crying. Half defiantly she asked if she might, for a moment,
see the little girl, Pollyanna.
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