Eleanor Porter / Элинор Портер
Pollyanna Grows Up / Поллианна вырастает. Книга для чтения на английском языке
To My Cousin Walter
Комментарии и словарь Е. Г. Тигонен
© КАРО, 2016
Chapter I
Della Speaks Her Mind
Della Wetherby tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sisters Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the electric-bell button. From the tip of her wing-trimmed hat to the toe of her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision. Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated with the joy of living.
Good morning, Mary. Is my sister in?
Y-yes, maam, Mrs. Carew is in, hesitated the girl; but she gave orders shed see no one.
Did she? Well, Im no one[1], smiled Miss Wetherby, so shell see me. Dont worry Ill take the blame, she nodded, in answer to the frightened remonstrance in the girls eyes. Where is she in her sitting-room?
Y-yes, maam; but that is, she said Miss Wetherby, however, was already halfway up the broad stairway; and, with a despairing backward glance, the maid turned away.
In the hall above Della Wetherby unhesitatingly walked toward a half-open door, and knocked.
Well, Mary, answered a dear-me-what-now[2] voice. Havent I Oh, Della! The voice grew suddenly warm with love and surprise. You dear girl, where did you come from?
Yes, its Della, smiled that young woman, blithely, already halfway across the room. Ive come from an over-Sunday at the beach with two of the other nurses, and Im on my way back to the Sanatorium now. That is, Im here now, but I shant be long. I stepped in for this, she finished, giving the owner of the dear-me-what-now voice a hearty kiss.
Mrs. Carew frowned and drew back a little coldly. The slight touch of joy and animation that had come into her face fled, leaving only a dispirited fretfulness that was plainly very much at home there.
Oh, of course! I might have known, she said. You never stay here.
Here! Della Wetherby laughed merrily, and threw up her hands; then, abruptly, her voice and manner changed. She regarded her sister with grave, tender eyes. Ruth, dear, I couldnt I just couldnt live in this house. You know I couldnt, she finished gently.
Mrs. Carew stirred irritably.
Im sure I dont see why not, she fenced.
Della Wetherby shook her head.
Yes, you do, dear. You know Im entirely out of sympathy with it all: the gloom, the lack of aim, the insistence on misery and bitterness.
But I AM miserable and bitter.
You ought not to be.
Why not? What have I to make me otherwise?
Della Wetherby gave an impatient gesture.
Ruth, look here, she challenged. Youre thirty-three years old. You have good health or would have, if you treated yourself properly and you certainly have an abundance of time and a superabundance of money. Surely anybody would say you ought to find SOMETHING to do this glorious morning besides sitting moped up in this tomb-like house with instructions to the maid that youll see no one.
But I dont WANT to see anybody.
Then Id MAKE myself want to.
Mrs. Carew sighed wearily and turned away her head.
Oh, Della, why wont you ever understand? Im not like you. I cant forget.
A swift pain crossed the younger womans face.
You mean Jamie, I suppose. I dont forget that, dear. I couldnt, of course. But moping wont help us find him.
As if I hadnt TRIED to find him, for eight long years and by something besides moping, flashed Mrs. Carew, indignantly, with a sob in her voice.
Of course you have, dear, soothed the other, quickly; and we shall keep on hunting, both of us, till we do find him or die. But THIS sort of thing doesnt help.
But I dont want to do anything else, murmured Ruth Carew, drearily.
For a moment there was silence. The younger woman sat regarding her sister with troubled, disapproving eyes.
Ruth, she said, at last, with a touch of exasperation, forgive me, but are you always going to be like this? Youre widowed, Ill admit; but your married life lasted only a year, and your husband was much older than yourself. You were little more than a child at the time, and that one short year cant seem much more than a dream now. Surely that ought not to embitter your whole life!
No, oh, no, murmured Mrs. Carew, still drearily.
Then ARE you going to be always like this?
Well, of course, if I could find Jamie
Yes, yes, I know; but, Ruth, dear, isnt there anything in the world but Jamie to make you ANY happy[3]?
There doesnt seem to be, that I can think of, sighed Mrs. Carew, indifferently.
Ruth! ejaculated her sister, stung into something very like anger. Then suddenly she laughed. Oh, Ruth, Ruth, Id like to give you a dose of Pollyanna. I dont know any one who needs it more!
Mrs. Carew stiffened a little.
Well, what pollyanna may be I dont know, but whatever it is, I dont want it, she retorted sharply, nettled in her turn. This isnt your beloved Sanatorium, and Im not your patient to be dosed and bossed, please remember.
Della Wetherbys eyes danced, but her lips remained unsmiling.
Pollyanna isnt a medicine, my dear, she said demurely, though I have heard some people call her a tonic. Pollyanna is a little girl.
A child? Well, how should I know, retorted the other, still aggrievedly. You have your belladonna, so Im sure I dont see why not pollyanna. Besides, youre always recommending something for me to take, and you distinctly said dose and dose usually means medicine, of a sort[4].
Well, Pollyanna IS a medicine of a sort, smiled Della. Anyway, the Sanatorium doctors all declare that shes better than any medicine they can give. Shes a little girl, Ruth, twelve or thirteen years old, who was at the Sanatorium all last summer and most of the winter. I didnt see her but a month or two, for she left soon after I arrived. But that was long enough for me to come fully under her spell. Besides, the whole Sanatorium is still talking Pollyanna, and playing her game.
GAME!
Yes, nodded Della, with a curious smile. Her glad game. Ill never forget my first introduction to it. One feature of her treatment was particularly disagreeable and even painful. It came every Tuesday morning, and very soon after my arrival it fell to my lot to give it to her. I was dreading it, for I knew from past experience with other children what to expect: fretfulness and tears, if nothing worse. To my unbounded amazement she greeted me with a smile and said she was glad to see me; and, if youll believe it, there was never so much as a whimper from her lips through the whole ordeal, though I knew I was hurting her cruelly.
I fancy I must have said something that showed my surprise, for she explained earnestly: Oh, yes, I used to feel that way, too, and I did dread it so, till I happened to think twas just like Nancys wash-days, and I could be gladdest of all on TUESDAYS, cause there wouldnt be another one for a whole week.
Why, how extraordinary! frowned Mrs. Carew, not quite comprehending. But, Im sure I dont see any GAME to that.
No, I didnt, till later. Then she told me. It seems she was the motherless daughter of a poor minister in the West, and was brought up by the Ladies Aid Society and missionary barrels. When she was a tiny girl she wanted a doll, and confidently expected it in the next barrel; but there turned out to be nothing but a pair of little crutches.
The child cried, of course, and it was then that her father taught her the game of hunting for something to be glad about, in everything that happened; and he said she could begin right then by being glad she didnt NEED the crutches. That was the beginning. Pollyanna said it was a lovely game, and shed been playing it ever since; and that the harder it was to find the glad part[5], the more fun it was, only when it was too AWFUL hard, like she had found it sometimes.
Why, how extraordinary! murmured Mrs. Carew, still not entirely comprehending.
Youd think so if you could see the results of that game in the Sanatorium, nodded Della; and Dr. Ames says he hears shes revolutionized the whole town where she came from, just the same way. He knows Dr. Chilton very well the man that married Pollyannas aunt. And, by the way, I believe that marriage was one of her ministrations. She patched up an old lovers quarrel between them.
You see, two years ago, or more, Pollyannas father died, and the little girl was sent East to this aunt. In October she was hurt by an automobile, and was told she could never walk again. In April Dr. Chilton sent her to the Sanatorium, and she was there till last March almost a year. She went home practically cured. You should have seen the child! There was just one cloud to mar her happiness: that she couldnt WALK all the way there. As near as I can gather, the whole town turned out to meet her with brass bands and banners.
But you cant TELL about Pollyanna. One has to SEE her. And thats why I say I wish you could have a dose of Pollyanna. It would do you a world of good.
Mrs. Carew lifted her chin a little.
Really, indeed, I must say I beg to differ with you[6], she returned coldly. I dont care to be revolutionized, and I have no lovers quarrel to be patched up; and if there is ANYTHING that would be insufferable to me, it would be a little Miss Prim with a long face preaching to me how much I had to be thankful for. I never could bear But a ringing laugh interrupted her.
Oh, Ruth, Ruth, choked her sister, gleefully. Miss Prim, indeed POLLYANNA! Oh, oh, if only you could see that child now! But there, I might have known. I SAID one couldnt TELL about Pollyanna. And of course you wont be apt to see her. But Miss Prim, indeed! And off she went into another gale of laughter. Almost at once, however, she sobered and gazed at her sister with the old troubled look in her eyes.
Seriously, dear, cant anything be done? she pleaded. You ought not to waste your life like this. Wont you try to get out a little more, and meet people?
Why should I, when I dont want to? Im tired of people. You know society always bored me.
Then why not try some sort of work charity?
Mrs. Carew gave an impatient gesture.
Della, dear, weve been all over this before. I do give money lots of it, and thats enough. In fact, Im not sure but its too much. I dont believe in pauperizing people.