You look quite a lot like MY doctor, you see, she added engagingly.
YOUR doctor? Dr. Mead glanced in evident surprise at Dr. Warren, talking with the nurse a few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small, brown-eyed man with a pointed brown beard.
Oh, THAT isnt my doctor, smiled Pollyanna, divining his thought. Dr. Warren is Aunt Pollys doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.
Oh-h! said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes resting on Miss Polly, who, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away.
Yes. Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness. You see, I wanted Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted you. She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, anyway about about broken legs like mine. And of course if you do, I can be glad for that. Do you?
A swift something crossed the doctors face that Pollyanna could not quite translate.
Only time can tell that, little girl, he said gently; then he turned a grave face toward Dr. Warren, who had just come to the bedside.
Every one said afterward that it was the cat that did it[174]. Certainly, if Fluffy had not poked an insistent paw and nose against Pollyannas unlatched door, the door would not have swung noiselessly open on its hinges until it stood perhaps a foot ajar; and if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunts words.
In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly stood talking. In Pollyannas room Fluffy had just jumped to the bed with a little purring meow of joy when through the open door sounded clearly and sharply Aunt Pollys agonized exclamation.
Not that! Doctor, not that! You dont mean the child will NEVER WALK again!
It was all confusion then. First, from the bedroom came Pollyannas terrified Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly! Then Miss Polly, seeing the open door and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan and for the first time in her life fainted dead away.
The nurse, with a choking She heard! stumbled toward the open door. The two doctors stayed with Miss Polly. Dr. Mead had to stay he had caught Miss Polly as she fell. Dr. Warren stood by, helplessly. It was not until Pollyanna cried out again sharply and the nurse closed the door, that the two men, with a despairing glance into each others eyes, awoke to the immediate duty of bringing the woman in Dr. Meads arms back to unhappy consciousness.
In Pollyannas room, the nurse had found a purring gray cat on the bed vainly trying to attract the attention of a white-faced, wild-eyed little girl.
Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick, please!
The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very pale.
She she cant come just this minute, dear. She will a little later. What is it? Cant I get it?
Pollyanna shook her head.
But I want to know what she said just now. Did you hear her? I want Aunt Polly she said something. I want her to tell me tisnt true tisnt true!
The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. Something in her face sent an added terror to Pollyannas eyes.
Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isnt true! You dont mean I cant ever walk again?
Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isnt true! You dont mean I cant ever walk again?
There, there, dear dont, dont! choked the nurse. Perhaps he didnt know. Perhaps he was mistaken. Theres lots of things that could happen, you know.
But Aunt Polly said he did know! She said he knew more than anybody else about about broken legs like mine!
Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make mistakes sometimes. Just just dont think any more about it now please dont, dear.
Pollyanna flung out her arms wildly. But I cant help thinking about it, she sobbed. Its all there is now to think about.[175] Why, Miss Hunt, how am I going to school, or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or or anybody? She caught her breath and sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly she stopped and looked up, a new terror in her eyes. Why, Miss Hunt, if I cant walk, how am I ever going to be glad for ANYTHING?
Miss Hunt did not know the game; but she did know that her patient must be quieted, and that at once. In spite of her own perturbation and heartache, her hands had not been idle, and she stood now at the bedside with the quieting powder ready.
There, there, dear, just take this, she soothed; and by and by well be more rested, and well see what can be done then. Things arent half as bad as they seem[176], dear, lots of times, you know.
Obediently Pollyanna took the medicine, and sipped the water from the glass in Miss Hunts hand.
I know; that sounds like things father used to say, faltered Pollyanna, blinking off the tears. He said there was always something about everything that might be worse; but I reckon hed never just heard he couldnt ever walk again. I dont see how there CAN be anything about that, that could be worse do you?
Miss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust herself to speak just then.
Chapter XXVII
Two Visits
It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Meads verdict. Miss Polly had remembered her promise to let him have direct information from the house. To go herself, or to write a letter, she felt to be almost equally out of the question. It occurred to her then to send Nancy.
There had been a time when Nancy would have rejoiced greatly at this extraordinary opportunity to see something of the House of Mystery and its master. But to-day her heart was too heavy to rejoice at anything. She scarcely even looked about her at all, indeed, during the few minutes, she waited for Mr. John Pendleton to appear.
Im Nancy, sir, she said respectfully, in response to the surprised questioning of his eyes, when he came into the room. Miss Harrington sent me to tell you about Miss Pollyanna.
Well?
In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the anxiety that lay behind that short well?
It aint well, Mr. Pendleton, she choked.
You dont mean He paused, and she bowed her head miserably.
Yes, sir. He says she cant walk again never.
For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with emotion.
Poor little girl! Poor little girl!
Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. She had not supposed that sour, cross, stern John Pendleton could look like that. In a moment he spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice.
It seems cruel never to dance in the sunshine again! My little prism girl!
There was another silence; then, abruptly, the man asked:
She herself doesnt know yet of course does she?
But she does, sir, sobbed Nancy, an thats what makes it all the harder. She found out drat that cat! I begs yer pardon, apologized the girl, hurriedly. Its only that the cat pushed open the door an Miss Pollyanna overheard em talkin. She found out that way.
Poor little girl! sighed the man again.
Yes, sir. Youd say so, sir, if you could see her, choked Nancy. I haint seen her but twice since she knew about it, an it done me up[177] both times. Ye see its all so fresh an new to her, an she keeps thinkin all the time of new things she cant do NOW. It worries her, too, cause she cant seem ter be glad maybe you dont know about her game, though, broke off Nancy, apologetically.
The glad game? asked the man. Oh, yes; she told me of that.
Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally ter most folks. But ye see, now she she cant play it herself, an it worries her. She says she cant think of a thing not a thing about this not walkin again, ter be glad about.
Well, why should she? retorted the man, almost savagely.
Nancy shifted her feet uneasily.
Thats the way I felt, too till I happened ter think it WOULD be easier if she could find somethin, ye know. So I tried to to remind her.
To remind her! Of what? John Pendletons voice was still angrily impatient.
Of of how she told others ter play it, Mis Snow, and the rest, ye know and what she said for them ter do. But the poor little lamb just cries, an says it dont seem the same, somehow. She says its easy ter TELL lifelong-invalids how ter be glad, but taint the same thing when youre the lifelong-invalid yerself, an have ter try ter do it. She says shes told herself over an over again how glad she is that other folks aint like her; but that all the time shes sayin it, she aint really THINKIN of anythin only how she cant ever walk again.
Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his eyes.
Then I tried ter remind her how she used ter say the game was all the nicer ter play when when it was hard, resumed Nancy, in a dull voice. But she says that, too, is diffrent when it really IS hard. An I must be goin, now, sir, she broke off abruptly.
At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly:
I couldnt be tellin Miss Pollyanna that that youd seen Jimmy Bean again, I spose, sir, could I?
I dont see how you could as I havent seen him, observed the man a little shortly. Why?
Nothin, sir, only well, ye see, thats one of the things that she was feelin bad about, that she couldnt take him ter see you, now. She said shed taken him once, but she didnt think he showed off very well that day, and that she was afraid you didnt think he would make a very nice childs presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; but I didnt, sir.
Yes, I know what she means.
All right, sir. It was only that she was wantin ter take him again, she said, sos ter show ye he really was a lovely childs presence. And now she cant drat that au-tymobile! I begs yer pardon, sir. Good-by! And Nancy fled precipitately.
It did not take long for the entire town of Beldingsville to learn that the great New York doctor had said Pollyanna Whittier would never walk again; and certainly never before had the town been so stirred. Everybody knew by sight now the piquant little freckled face that had always a smile of greeting; and almost everybody knew of the game that Pollyanna was playing. To think that now never again would that smiling face be seen on their streets never again would that cheery little voice proclaim the gladness of some everyday experience! It seemed unbelievable, impossible, cruel.
In kitchens and sitting rooms, and over back-yard fences women talked of it, and wept openly. On street corners and in store lounging-places the men talked, too, and wept though not so openly. And neither the talking nor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels of the news itself[178], came Nancys pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what had come to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact that she could not play the game; that she could not now be glad over anything.