But if youd give a little of yourself, dear, ventured Della, gently. If you could only get interested in something outside of your own life, it would help so much; and
Now, Della, dear, interrupted the elder sister, restively, I love you, and I love to have you come here; but I simply cannot endure being preached to[7]. Its all very well for you to turn yourself into an angel of mercy and give cups of cold water, and bandage up broken heads, and all that. Perhaps YOU can forget Jamie that way; but I couldnt. It would only make me think of him all the more, wondering if HE had any one to give him water and bandage up his head. Besides, the whole thing would be very distasteful to me mixing with all sorts and kinds of people like that.
Did you ever try it?
Why, no, of course not! Mrs. Carews voice was scornfully indignant.
Then how can you know till you do try? asked the young nurse, rising to her feet a little wearily. But I must go, dear. Im to meet the girls at the South Station. Our train goes at twelve-thirty. Im sorry if Ive made you cross with me, she finished, as she kissed her sister good-by.
Im not cross with you, Della, sighed Mrs. Carew; but if you only would understand!
One minute later Della Wetherby made her way through the silent, gloomy halls, and out to the street. Face, step, and manner were very different from what they had been when she tripped up the steps less than half an hour before. All the alertness, the springiness, the joy of living were gone. For half a block she listlessly dragged one foot after the other. Then, suddenly, she threw back her head and drew a long breath.
One week in that house would kill me, she shuddered. I dont believe even Pollyanna herself could so much as make a dent in the gloom! And the only thing she could be glad for there would be that she didnt have to stay.
That this avowed disbelief in Pollyannas ability to bring about a change for the better in Mrs. Carews home was not Della Wetherbys real opinion, however, was quickly proved; for no sooner had the nurse reached the Sanatorium than she learned something that sent her flying back over the fifty-mile journey to Boston the very next day.
So exactly as before did she find circumstances at her sisters home that it seemed almost as if Mrs. Carew had not moved since she left her.
Ruth, she burst out eagerly, after answering her sisters surprised greeting, I just HAD to come, and you must, this once, yield to me and let me have my way[8]. Listen! You can have that little Pollyanna here, I think, if you will.
But I wont, returned Mrs. Carew, with chilly promptness.
Della Wetherby did not seem to have heard. She plunged on excitedly.
When I got back yesterday I found that Dr. Ames had had a letter from Dr. Chilton, the one who married Pollyannas aunt, you know. Well, it seems in it he said he was going to Germany for the winter for a special course, and was going to take his wife with him, if he could persuade her that Pollyanna would be all right in some boarding school here meantime. But Mrs. Chilton didnt want to leave Pollyanna in just a school, and so he was afraid she wouldnt go. And now, Ruth, theres our chance. I want YOU to take Pollyanna this winter, and let her go to some school around here.
What an absurd idea, Della! As if I wanted a child here to bother with!
She wont bother a bit. She must be nearly or quite thirteen by this time, and shes the most capable little thing you ever saw.
I dont like capable children, retorted Mrs. Carew perversely but she laughed; and because she did laugh, her sister took sudden courage and redoubled her efforts.
Perhaps it was the suddenness of the appeal, or the novelty of it. Perhaps it was because the story of Pollyanna had somehow touched Ruth Carews heart. Perhaps it was only her unwillingness to refuse her sisters impassioned plea. Whatever it was that finally turned the scale[9], when Della Wetherby took her hurried leave half an hour later, she carried with her Ruth Carews promise to receive Pollyanna into her home.
Perhaps it was the suddenness of the appeal, or the novelty of it. Perhaps it was because the story of Pollyanna had somehow touched Ruth Carews heart. Perhaps it was only her unwillingness to refuse her sisters impassioned plea. Whatever it was that finally turned the scale[9], when Della Wetherby took her hurried leave half an hour later, she carried with her Ruth Carews promise to receive Pollyanna into her home.
But just remember, Mrs. Carew warned her at parting, just remember that the minute that child begins to preach to me and to tell me to count my mercies, back she goes to you, and you may do what you please with her. I shant keep her!
Ill remember but Im not worrying any, nodded the younger woman, in farewell. To herself she whispered, as she hurried away from the house: Half my job is done. Now for the other half to get Pollyanna to come. But shes just got to come. Ill write that letter so they cant help letting her come!
Chapter II
Some Old Friends
In Beldingsville that August day, Mrs. Chilton waited until Pollyanna had gone to bed before she spoke to her husband about the letter that had come in the morning mail. For that matter, she would have had to wait, anyway, for crowded office hours, and the doctors two long drives over the hills had left no time for domestic conferences.
It was about half-past nine, indeed, when the doctor entered his wifes sitting-room. His tired face lighted at sight of her, but at once a perplexed questioning came to his eyes.
Why, Polly, dear, what is it? he asked concernedly.
His wife gave a rueful laugh.
Well, its a letter though I didnt mean you should find out by just looking at me.
Then you mustnt look so I can, he smiled. But what is it?
Mrs. Chilton hesitated, pursed her lips, then picked up a letter near her.
Ill read it to you, she said. Its from a Miss Della Wetherby at Dr. Ames Sanatorium.
All right. Fire away, directed the man, throwing himself at full length on to the couch near his wifes chair.
But his wife did not at once fire away. She got up first and covered her husbands recumbent figure with a gray worsted afghan. Mrs. Chiltons wedding day was but a year behind her. She was forty-two now. It seemed sometimes as if into that one short year of wifehood she had tried to crowd all the loving service and babying that had been accumulating through twenty years of lovelessness and loneliness. Nor did the doctor who had been forty-five on his wedding day, and who could remember nothing but loneliness and lovelessness on his part object in the least to this concentrated tending. He acted, indeed, as if he quite enjoyed it though he was careful not to show it too ardently: he had discovered that Mrs. Polly had for so long been Miss Polly that she was inclined to retreat in a panic and dub her ministrations silly, if they were received with too much notice and eagerness. So he contented himself now with a mere pat of her hand as she gave the afghan a final smooth, and settled herself to read the letter aloud.
My dear Mrs. Chilton, Della Wetherby had written. Just six times I have commenced a letter to you, and torn it up; so now I have decided not to commence at all, but just to tell you what I want at once. I want Pollyanna. May I have her?
I met you and your husband last March when you came on to take Pollyanna home, but I presume you dont remember me. I am asking Dr. Ames (who does know me very well) to write your husband, so that you may (I hope) not fear to trust your dear little niece to us.
I understand that you would go to Germany with your husband but for leaving Pollyanna; and so I am making so bold as to ask you to let us take her. Indeed, I am begging you to let us have her, dear Mrs. Chilton. And now let me tell you why.
My sister, Mrs. Carew, is a lonely, broken-hearted, discontented, unhappy woman. She lives in a world of gloom, into which no sunshine penetrates. Now I believe that if anything on earth can bring the sunshine into her life, it is your niece, Pollyanna. Wont you let her try? I wish I could tell you what she has done for the Sanatorium here, but nobody could TELL. You would have to see it. I long ago discovered that you cant TELL about Pollyanna. The minute you try to, she sounds priggish and preachy, and impossible. Yet you and I know she is anything but that. You just have to bring Pollyanna on to the scene and let her speak for herself. And so I want to take her to my sister and let her speak for herself. She would attend school, of course, but meanwhile I truly believe she would be healing the wound in my sisters heart.
I dont know how to end this letter. I believe its harder than it was to begin it. Im afraid I dont want to end it at all. I just want to keep talking and talking, for fear, if I stop, itll give you a chance to say no. And so, if you ARE tempted to say that dreadful word, wont you please consider that that Im still talking, and telling you how much we want and need Pollyanna.
Hopefully yours,
There! ejaculated Mrs. Chilton, as she laid the letter down. Did you ever read such a remarkable letter, or hear of a more preposterous, absurd request?
Well, Im not so sure, smiled the doctor. I dont think its absurd to want Pollyanna.
But but the way she puts it healing the wound in her sisters heart, and all that. One would think the child was some sort of of medicine!
The doctor laughed outright, and raised his eyebrows.
Well, Im not so sure but she is, Polly. I ALWAYS said I wished I could prescribe her and buy her as I would a box of pills; and Charlie Ames says they always made it a point at the Sanatorium to give their patients a dose of Pollyanna as soon as possible after their arrival, during the whole year she was there.
Dose, indeed! scorned Mrs. Chilton.
Then you dont think youll let her go?
Go? Why, of course not! Do you think Id let that child go to perfect strangers like that? and such strangers! Why, Thomas, I should expect that that nurse would have her all bottled and labeled with full directions on the outside how to take her, by the time Id got back from Germany.
Again the doctor threw back his head and laughed heartily, but only for a moment. His face changed perceptibly as he reached into his pocket for a letter.
I heard from Dr. Ames myself, this morning, he said, with an odd something in his voice that brought a puzzled frown to his wifes brow. Suppose I read you my letter now.