Thus it came about that, with Mrs. Carew, Pollyanna attended concerts and matinées[43], and visited the Public Library and the Art Museum; and with Mary she took the wonderful seeing Boston trips, and visited the State House and the Old South Church.
Greatly as Pollyanna enjoyed the automobile, she enjoyed the trolley cars more, as Mrs. Carew, much to her surprise, found out one day.
Do we go in the trolley car? Pollyanna asked eagerly.
No. Perkins will take us, answered Mrs. Carew. Then, at the unmistakable disappointment in Pollyannas face, she added in surprise: Why, I thought you liked the auto, child!
Oh, I do, acceded Pollyanna, hurriedly; and I wouldnt say anything, anyway, because of course I know its cheaper than the trolley car, and
Cheaper than the trolley car! exclaimed Mrs. Carew, amazed into an interruption.
Why, yes, explained Pollyanna, with widening eyes; the trolley car costs five cents a person, you know, and the auto doesnt cost anything, cause its yours. And of course I LOVE the auto, anyway, she hurried on, before Mrs. Carew could speak. Its only that there are so many more people in the trolley car, and its such fun to watch them! Dont you think so?
Well, no, Pollyanna, I cant say that I do, responded Mrs. Carew, dryly, as she turned away.
As it chanced, not two days later, Mrs. Carew heard something more of Pollyanna and trolley cars this time from Mary.
I mean, its queer, maam, explained Mary earnestly, in answer to a question her mistress had asked, its queer how Miss Pollyanna just gets round EVERYBODY and without half-trying. It isnt that she DOES anything. She doesnt. She just just looks glad, I guess, thats all. But Ive seen her get into a trolley car that was full of cross-looking men and women, and whimpering children, and in five minutes you wouldnt know the place. The men and women have stopped scowling, and the children have forgot what theyre cryin for.
Sometimes its just somethin that Miss Pollyanna has said to me, and theyve heard it. Sometimes its just the thank you, she gives when somebody insists on givin us their seat and theyre always doin that givin us seats, I mean. And sometimes its the way she smiles at a baby or a dog. All dogs everywhere wag their tails at her, anyway, and all babies, big and little, smile and reach out to her. If we get held up its a joke, and if we take the wrong car, its the funniest thing that ever happened. And thats the way tis about everythin. One just cant stay grumpy, with Miss Pollyanna, even if youre only one of a trolley car full of folks that dont know her.
Hm-m; very likely, murmured Mrs. Carew, turning away.
October proved to be, that year, a particularly warm, delightful month, and as the golden days came and went, it was soon very evident that to keep up with Pollyannas eager little feet was a task which would consume altogether too much of somebodys time and patience; and, while Mrs. Carew had the one, she had not the other, neither had she the willingness to allow Mary to spend quite so much of HER time (whatever her patience might be) in dancing attendance[44] to Pollyannas whims and fancies.
To keep the child indoors all through those glorious October afternoons was, of course, out of the question. Thus it came about that, before long, Pollyanna found herself once more in the lovely big yard the Boston Public Garden and alone. Apparently she was as free as before, but in reality she was surrounded by a high stone wall of regulations.
She must not talk to strange men or women; she must not play with strange children; and under no circumstances must she step foot outside the Garden except to come home. Furthermore, Mary, who had taken her to the Garden and left her, made very sure that she knew the way home that she knew just where Commonwealth Avenue came down to Arlington Street across from the Garden. And always she must go home when the clock in the church tower said it was half-past four.
Pollyanna went often to the Garden after this. Occasionally she went with some of the girls from school. More often she went alone. In spite of the somewhat irksome restrictions she enjoyed herself very much. She could WATCH the people even if she could not talk to them; and she could talk to the squirrels and pigeons and sparrows that so eagerly came for the nuts and grain which she soon learned to carry to them every time she went.
Pollyanna often looked for her old friends of that first day the man who was so glad he had his eyes and legs and arms, and the pretty young lady who would not go with the handsome man; but she never saw them. She did frequently see the boy in the wheelchair, and she wished she could talk to him. The boy fed the birds and squirrels, too, and they were so tame that the doves would perch on his head and shoulders, and the squirrels would burrow in his pockets for nuts. But Pollyanna, watching from a distance, always noticed one strange circumstance: in spite of the boys very evident delight in serving his banquet, his supply of food always ran short almost at once; and though he invariably looked fully as disappointed as did the squirrel after a nutless burrowing, yet he never remedied the matter by bringing more food the next day which seemed most short-sighted to Pollyanna.
When the boy was not playing with the birds and squirrels he was reading always reading. In his chair were usually two or three worn books, and sometimes a magazine or two. He was nearly always to be found in one especial place, and Pollyanna used to wonder how he got there. Then, one unforgettable day, she found out. It was a school holiday, and she had come to the Garden in the forenoon; and it was soon after she reached the place that she saw him being wheeled along one of the paths by a snub-nosed, sandy-haired boy. She gave a keen glance into the sandy-haired boys face, then ran toward him with a glad little cry.
Oh, you you! I know you even if I dont know your name. You found me! Dont you remember? Oh, Im so glad to see you! Ive so wanted to say thank you!
Gee, if it aint the swell little lost kid of the AveNOO! grinned the boy. Well, what do you know about that! Lost again?
Oh, no! exclaimed Pollyanna, dancing up and down on her toes in irrepressible joy. I cant get lost any more I have to stay right here. And I mustnt talk, you know. But I can to you, for I KNOW you; and I can to him after you introduce me, she finished, with a beaming glance at the lame boy, and a hopeful pause.
The sandy-haired youth chuckled softly, and tapped the shoulder of the boy in the chair.
Listen ter that, will ye? Aint that the real thing, now? Just you wait while I introDOOCE ye! And he struck a pompous attitude. Madam, this is me friend, Sir James, Lord of Murphys Alley, and But the boy in the chair interrupted him.
Jerry, quit your nonsense! he cried vexedly. Then to Pollyanna he turned a glowing face. Ive seen you here lots of times before. Ive watched you feed the birds and squirrels you always have such a lot for them! And I think YOU like Sir Lancelot[45] the best, too. Of course, theres the Lady Rowena[46] but wasnt she rude to Guinevere[47] yesterday snatching her dinner right away from her like that?
Pollyanna blinked and frowned, looking from one to the other of the boys in plain doubt. Jerry chuckled again. Then, with a final push he wheeled the chair into its usual position, and turned to go. Over his shoulder he called to Pollyanna:
Say, kid, jest let me put ye wise ter somethin. This chap aint drunk nor crazy. See? Thems jest names hes give his young friends here, with a flourish of his arms toward the furred and feathered creatures that were gathering from all directions. An they aint even names of FOLKS. Theyre just guys out of books. Are ye on?[48] Yet hed ruther feed them than feed hisself. Aint he the limit? Ta-ta, Sir James, he added, with a grimace, to the boy in the chair. Buck up, now nix on the no grub racket for you! See you later. And he was gone.
Pollyanna was still blinking and frowning when the lame boy turned with a smile.
You mustnt mind Jerry. Thats just his way. Hed cut off his right hand for me Jerry would; but he loves to tease. Whered you see him? Does he know you? He didnt tell me your name.
Im Pollyanna Whittier. I was lost and he found me and took me home, answered Pollyanna, still a little dazedly.
I see. Just like him, nodded the boy. Dont he tote me up here every day?
A quick sympathy came to Pollyannas eyes.
Cant you walk at all er Sir J-James?
The boy laughed gleefully.
Sir James, indeed! Thats only more of Jerrys nonsense. I aint a sir.
Pollyanna looked clearly disappointed.
You arent? Nor a a lord, like he said?
I sure aint.
Oh, I hoped you were like Little Lord Fauntleroy[49], you know, rejoined Pollyanna. And
But the boy interrupted her with an eager:
Do YOU know Little Lord Fauntleroy? And do you know about Sir Lancelot, and the Holy Grail, and King Arthur and his Round Table, and the Lady Rowena, and Ivanhoe, and all those? DO you?
Pollyanna gave her head a dubious shake.
Well, Im afraid maybe I dont know ALL of em, she admitted. Are they all in books?
The boy nodded.
Ive got em here some of em, he said. I like to read em over and over. Theres always SOMETHING new in em. Besides, I haint got no others, anyway. These were fathers. Here, you little rascal quit that! he broke off in laughing reproof as a bushytailed squirrel leaped to his lap and began to nose in his pockets. Gorry, guess wed better give them their dinner or theyll be tryin to eat us, chuckled the boy. Thats Sir Lancelot. Hes always first, you know.
From somewhere the boy produced a small pasteboard box which he opened guardedly, mindful of the numberless bright little eyes that were watching every move. All about him now sounded the whir and flutter of wings, the cooing of doves, the saucy twitter of the sparrows. Sir Lancelot, alert and eager, occupied one arm of the wheel-chair. Another bushy-tailed little fellow, less venturesome, sat back on his haunches[50] five feet away. A third squirrel chattered noisily on a neighboring tree-branch.
From the box the boy took a few nuts, a small roll, and a doughnut. At the latter he looked longingly, hesitatingly.
Did you bring anything? he asked then.
Lots in here, nodded Pollyanna, tapping the paper bag she carried.