Me! pretty! scoffed the woman, bitterly.
Why, yes. Didnt you know it? cried Pollyanna.
Well, no, I didnt, retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived forty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were.
Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hairs all dark, too, and curly, cooed Pollyanna. I love black curls. (Thats one of the things Im going to have when I get to Heaven.) And youve got two little red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! I should think youd know it when you looked at yourself in the glass.
The glass! snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. Yes, well, I haint done much prinkin before the mirror these days-and you wouldnt, if you was flat on your back as I am!
Why, no, of course not, agreed Pollyanna, sympathetically. But wait-just let me show you, she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau and picking up a small hand-glass.
On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a critical gaze.
I reckon maybe, if you dont mind, Id like to fix your hair just a little before I let you see it, she proposed. May I fix your hair, please?
Why, I-suppose so, if you want to, permitted Mrs. Snow, grudgingly; but twont stay, you know.
Oh, thank you. I love to fix peoples hair, exulted Pollyanna, carefully laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. I shant do much today, of course-Im in such a hurry for you to see how pretty you are; but some day Im going to take it all down and have a perfectly lovely time with it, she cried, touching with soft fingers the waving hair above the sick womans forehead.
For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory curl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or shaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better pose. Meanwhile the sick woman, frowning prodigiously, and openly scoffing at the whole procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning to tingle with a feeling perilously near to excitement.
There! panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase near by and tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect. Now I reckon were ready to be looked at! And she held out the mirror in triumph.
Humph! grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. I like red pinks better than pink ones; but then, itll fade, anyhow, before night, so whats the difference!
But I should think youd be glad they did fade, laughed Pollyanna, cause then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love your hair fluffed out like that, she finished with a satisfied gaze. Dont you?
Hm-m; maybe. Still-twont last, with me tossing back and forth on the pillow as I do.
Of course not-and Im glad, too, nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully, because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think youd be glad its black-black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair like mine does.
Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair-shows gray too soon, retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held the mirror before her face.
Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it, sighed Pollyanna.
Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.
Well, you wouldnt! not if you were me. You wouldnt be glad for black hair nor anything else-if you had to lie here all day as I do!
Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.
Why, twould be kind of hard-to do it then, wouldnt it? she mused aloud.
Do what?
Be glad about things.
Be glad about things-when youre sick in bed all your days? Well, I should say it would, retorted Mrs. Snow. If you dont think so, just tell me something to be glad about; thats all!
To Mrs. Snows unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
Oh, goody! Thatll be a hard one-wont it? Ive got to go, now, but Ill think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come I can tell it to you. Good-by. Ive had a lovely time! Good-by, she called again, as she tripped through the doorway.
Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that? ejaculated Mrs. Snow, staring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head and picked up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.
That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake, she muttered under her breath. I declare, I didnt know it could look so pretty. But then, whats the use? she sighed, dropping the little glass into the bedclothes, and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully.
A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snows daughter, came in, the mirror still lay among the bedclothes-though it had been carefully hidden from sight.
Why, mother-the curtain is up! cried Milly, dividing her amazed stare between the window and the pink in her mothers hair.
Well, what if it is? snapped the sick woman. I neednt stay in the dark all my life, if I am sick, need I?
Why, n-no, of course not, rejoined Milly, in hasty conciliation, as she reached for the medicine bottle. Its only-well, you know very well that Ive tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and you wouldnt.
There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her nightgown. At last she spoke fretfully.
I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress-instead of lamb broth, for a change!
Why-mother!
No wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawer behind her at that moment lay two new nightdresses that Milly for months had been vainly urging her mother to wear.
Chapter IX
Which tells of the man
It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, with a bright smile.
It isnt so nice today, is it? she called blithesomely. Im glad it doesnt rain always, anyhow!
The man did not even grunt this time, nor turn his head. Pollyanna decided that of course he did not hear her. The next time, therefore (which happened to be the following day), she spoke up louder. She thought it particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the Man was striding along, his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the ground-which seemed, to Pollyanna, preposterous in the face of the glorious sunshine and the freshly-washed morning air: Pollyanna, as a special treat, was on a morning errand to-day.
How do you do? she chirped. Im so glad it isnt yesterday, arent you?
The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face.
See here, little girl, we might just as well settle this thing right now, once for all, he began testily. Ive got something besides the weather to think of. I dont know whether the sun shines or not. Pollyanna beamed joyously.
No, sir; I thought you didnt. Thats why I told you.
Yes; well-Eh? What? he broke off sharply, in sudden understanding of her words.
I say, thats why I told you-so you would notice it, you know-that the sun shines, and all that. I knew youd be glad it did if you only stopped to think of it-and you didnt look a bit as if you WERE thinking of it!
Well, of all the- ejaculated the man, with an oddly impotent gesture. He started forward again, but after the second step he turned back, still frowning.
See here, why dont you find someone your own age to talk to?
Id like to, sir, but there arent any round here, Nancy says. Still, I dont mind so very much. I like old folks just as well, maybe better, sometimes-being used to the Ladies Aid, so.
Humph! The Ladies Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for? The mans lips were threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was still trying to hold them grimly stern.
Pollyanna laughed gleefully.
Oh, no, sir. You dont look a mite like a Ladies Aider-not but that youre just as good, of course-maybe better, she added in hurried politeness. You see, Im sure youre much nicer than you look!
The man made a queer noise in his throat.
Well, of all the- he ejaculated again, as he turned and strode on as before.
The next time Pollyanna met the Man, his eyes were gazing straight into hers, with a quizzical directness that made his face look really pleasant, Pollyanna thought.
Good afternoon, he greeted her a little stiffly. Perhaps Id better say right away that I KNOW the sun is shining today.
But you dont have to tell me, nodded Pollyanna, brightly. I KNEW you knew it just as soon as I saw you.
Oh, you did, did you?
Yes, sir; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your smile.
Humph! grunted the man, as he passed on.
The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and frequently he spoke first, though usually he said little but good afternoon. Even that, however, was a great surprise to Nancy, who chanced to be with Pollyanna one day when the greeting was given.
Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna, she gasped, did that man SPEAK TO YOU?
Why, yes, he always does-now, smiled Pollyanna.
He always does! Goodness! Do you know who-he-is? demanded Nancy.
Pollyanna frowned and shook her head.
I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my part of the introducing, but he didnt.
Nancys eyes widened.
But he never speaks ter anybody, child-he haint for years, I guess, except when he just has to, for business, and all that. Hes John Pendleton. He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendleton Hill. He wont even have anyone round ter cook for him-comes down ter the hotel for his meals three times a day. I know Sally Miner, who waits on him, and she says he hardly opens his head enough ter tell what he wants ter eat. She has ter guess it moren half the time-only itll be somethin CHEAP! She knows that without no tellin.
Pollyanna nodded sympathetically.
I know. You have to look for cheap things when youre poor. Father and I took meals out a lot. We had beans and fish balls most generally. We used to say how glad we were we liked beans-that is, we said it specially when we were looking at the roast turkey place, you know, that was sixty cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans?
Like em! What if he does-or dont? Why, Miss Pollyanna, he aint poor. Hes got loads of money, John Pendleton has-from his father. There aint nobody in town as rich as he is. He could eat dollar bills, if he wanted to-and not know it.
Pollyanna giggled.
As if anybody COULD eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they come to try to chew em!
Ho! I mean hes rich enough ter do it, shrugged Nancy. He aint spendin his money, thats all. Hes a-savin of it.
Oh, for the heathen, surmised Pollyanna. How perfectly splendid! Thats denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know; father told me.
Nancys lips parted abruptly, as if there were angry words all ready to come; but her eyes, resting on Pollyannas jubilantly trustful face, saw something that prevented the words being spoken.
Humph! she vouchsafed. Then, showing her old-time interest, she went on: But, say, it is queer, his speakin to you, honestly, Miss Pollyanna. He dont speak ter no one; and he lives all alone in a great big lovely house all full of jest grand things, they say. Some says hes crazy, and some jest cross; and some says hes got a skeleton in his closet.
Oh, Nancy! shuddered Pollyanna. How can he keep such a dreadful thing? I should think hed throw it away!
Nancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the skeleton literally instead of figuratively, she knew very well; but, perversely, she refrained from correcting the mistake.
And EVERYBODY says hes mysterious, she went on. Some years he jest travels, week in and week out, and its always in heathen countries-Egypt and Asia and the Desert of Sarah, you know.
Oh, a missionary, nodded Pollyanna.
Nancy laughed oddly.
Well, I didnt say that, Miss Pollyanna. When he comes back he writes books-queer, odd books, they say, about some gimcrack hes found in them heathen countries. But he dont never seem ter want ter spend no money here-leastways, not for jest livin.
Of course not-if hes saving it for the heathen, declared Pollyanna. But he is a funny man, and hes different, too, just like Mrs. Snow, only hes a different different.
Well, I guess he is-rather, chuckled Nancy.
Im gladdern ever now, anyhow, that he speaks to me, sighed Pollyanna contentedly.
Chapter X
A surprise for
mrs. Snow
The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room.
Its the little girl from Miss Pollys, mother, announced Milly, in a tired manner; then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid.
Oh, its you, is it? asked a fretful voice from the bed. I remember you. ANYbodyd remember you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you had come yesterday. I WANTED you yesterday.
Did you? Well, Im glad tisnt any farther away from yesterday than today is, then, laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room, and setting her basket carefully down on a chair. My! but arent you dark here, though? I cant see you a bit, she cried, unhesitatingly crossing to the window and pulling up the shade. I want to see if youve fixed your hair like I did-oh, you havent! But, never mind; Im glad you havent, after all, cause maybe youll let me do it-later. But now I want you to see what Ive brought you.
The woman stirred restlessly.
Just as if how it looks would make any difference in how it tastes, she scoffed-but she turned her eyes toward the basket. Well, what is it?
Guess! What do you want? Pollyanna had skipped back to the basket. Her face was alight. The sick woman frowned.
Why, I dont WANT anything, as I know of, she sighed. After all, they all taste alike!
Pollyanna chuckled.
This wont. Guess! If you DID want something, what would it be?
The woman hesitated. She did not realize it herself, but she had so long been accustomed to wanting what she did not have, that to state offhand what she DID want seemed impossible-until she knew what she had. Obviously, however, she must say something. This extraordinary child was waiting.
Well, of course, theres lamb broth-
Ive got it! crowed Pollyanna.
But thats what I DIDNT want, sighed the sick woman, sure now of what her stomach craved. It was chicken I wanted.
Oh, Ive got that, too, chuckled Pollyanna.
The woman turned in amazement.
Both of them? she demanded.
Yes-and calfs-foot jelly, triumphed Pollyanna. I was just bound you should have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. Oh, of course, theres only a little of each-but theres some of all of em! Im so glad you did want chicken, she went on contentedly, as she lifted the three little bowls from her basket. You see, I got to thinking on the way here-what if you should say tripe, or onions, or something like that, that I didnt have! Wouldnt it have been a shame-when Id tried so hard? she laughed merrily.
There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying-mentally to find something she had lost.
There! Im to leave them all, announced Pollyanna, as she arranged the three bowls in a row on the table. Like enough itll be lamb broth you want tomorrow. How do you do today? she finished in polite inquiry.
Very poorly, thank you, murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into her usual listless attitude. I lost my nap this morning. Nellie Higgins next door has begun music lessons, and her practising drives me nearly wild. She was at it all the morning-every minute! Im sure, I dont know what I shall do!
Polly nodded sympathetically.
I know. It IS awful! Mrs. White had it once-one of my Ladies Aiders, you know. She had rheumatic fever, too, at the same time, so she couldnt thrash round. She said twould have been easier if she could have. Can you?
Can I-what?
Thrash round-move, you know, so as to change your position when the music gets too hard to stand.
Mrs. Snow stared a little.