CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM
Miss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece. She looked upfrom her book, it is true, as Nancy and the little girl appeared in thesitting-room doorway, and she held out a hand with "duty" written largeon every coldly extended finger.
"How do you do, Pollyanna? I--" She had no chance to say more.Pollyanna, had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into heraunt's scandalized, unyielding lap.
"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don't know how to be glad enough thatyou let me come to live with you," she was sobbing. "You don't know howperfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after you'vehad just the Ladies' Aid!"
"Very likely--though I've not had the pleasure of the Ladies' Aid'sacquaintance," rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly, trying to unclasp thesmall, clinging fingers, and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in thedoorway. "Nancy, that will do. You may go. Pollyanna, be good enough,please, to stand erect in a proper manner. I don't know yet what youlook like."
Pollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little hysterically.
"No, I suppose you don't; but you see I'm not very much to look at,anyway, on account of the freckles. Oh, and I ought to explain about thered gingham and the black velvet basque with white spots on the elbows.I told Nancy how father said--"
"Yes; well, never mind now what your father said," interrupted MissPolly, crisply. "You had a trunk, I presume?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Aunt Polly. I've got a beautiful trunk that theLadies' Aid gave me. I haven't got so very much in it--of my own, Imean. The barrels haven't had many clothes for little girls in themlately; but there were all father's books, and Mrs. White said shethought I ought to have those. You see, father--"
"Pollyanna," interrupted her aunt again, sharply, "there is one thingthat might just as well be understood right away at once; and that is, Ido not care to have you keep talking of your father to me."
The little girl drew in her breath tremulously.
"Why, Aunt Polly, you--you mean--" She hesitated, and her aunt filledthe pause.
"We will go up-stairs to your room. Your trunk is already there, Ipresume. I told Timothy to take it up--if you had one. You may followme, Pollyanna."
Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room.Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely high.
"After all, I--I reckon I'm glad she doesn't want me to talk aboutfather," Pollyanna was thinking. "It'll be easier, maybe--if I don'ttalk about him. Probably, anyhow, that is why she told me not to talkabout him." And Pollyanna, convinced anew of her aunt's "kindness,"blinked off the tears and looked eagerly about her.
She was on the stairway now. Just ahead, her aunt's black silk skirtrustled luxuriously. Behind her an open door allowed a glimpse ofsoft-tinted rugs and satin-covered chairs. Beneath her feet a marvellouscarpet was like green moss to the tread. On every side the gilt ofpicture frames or the glint of sunlight through the filmy mesh of lacecurtains flashed in her eyes.
"Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly," breathed the little girl, rapturously;"what a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully glad you must beyou're so rich!"
"PollyANNA!" ejaculated her aunt, turning sharply about as she reachedthe head of the stairs. "I'm surprised at you--making a speech like thatto me!"
"Why, Aunt Polly, AREN'T you?" queried Pollyanna, in frank wonder.
"Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not so far forget myself as tobe sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me,"declared the lady; "certainly not, of RICHES!"
Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairwaydoor. She was glad, now, that she had put the child in the attic room.Her idea at first had been to get her niece as far away as possible fromherself, and at the same time place her where her childish heedlessnesswould not destroy valuable furnishings. Now--with this evident strain ofvanity showing thus early--it was all the more fortunate that the roomplanned for her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly.
Eagerly Pollyanna's small feet pattered behind her aunt. Still moreeagerly her big blue eyes tried to look in all directions at once, thatno thing of beauty or interest in this wonderful house might be passedunseen. Most eagerly of all her mind turned to the wondrously excitingproblem about to be solved: behind which of all these fascinating doorswas waiting now her room--the dear, beautiful room full of curtains,rugs, and pictures, that was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, heraunt opened a door and ascended another stairway.
There was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either side. Atthe top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led to far cornerswhere the roof came almost down to the floor, and where werestacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot and stifling, too.Unconsciously Pollyanna lifted her head higher--it seemed so hard tobreathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown open a door at the right.
"There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I see.Have you your key?"
Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened.
Her aunt frowned.
"When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloudnot merely with your head."
"Yes, Aunt Polly."
"Thank you; that is better. I believe you have everything that youneed here," she added, glancing at the well-filled towel rack and waterpitcher. "I will send Nancy up to help you unpack. Supper is at sixo'clock," she finished, as she left the room and swept down-stairs.
For a moment after she had gone Pollyanna stood quite still, lookingafter her. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the barefloor, the bare windows. She turned them last to the little trunk thathad stood not so long before in her own little room in the far-awayWestern home. The next moment she stumbled blindly toward it and fell onher knees at its side, covering her face with her hands.
Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later.
"There, there, you poor lamb," she crooned, dropping to the floor anddrawing the little girl into her arms. "I was just a-fearin! I'd findyou like this, like this."
Pollyanna shook her head.
"But I'm bad and wicked, Nancy--awful wicked," she sobbed. "I just can'tmake myself understand that God and the angels needed my father morethan I did."
"No more they did, neither," declared Nancy, stoutly.
"Oh-h!--NANCY!" The burning horror in Pollyanna's eyes dried the tears.
Nancy gave a shamefaced smile and rubbed her own eyes vigorously.
"There, there, child, I didn't mean it, of course," she cried briskly."Come, let's have your key and we'll get inside this trunk and take outyour dresses in no time, no time."
Somewhat tearfully Pollyanna produced the key.
"There aren't very many there, anyway," she faltered.
"Then they're all the sooner unpacked," declared Nancy.
Pollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile.
"That's so! I can be glad of that, can't I?" she cried.
Nancy stared.
"Why, of--course," she answered a little uncertainly.
Nancy's capable hands made short work of unpacking the books, thepatched undergarments, and the few pitifully unattractive dresses.Pollyanna, smiling bravely now, flew about, hanging the dresses inthe closet, stacking the books on the table, and putting away theundergarments in the bureau drawers.
"I'm sure it--it's going to be a very nice room. Don't you think so?"she stammered, after a while.
There was no answer. Nancy was very busy, apparently, with her head inthe trunk. Pollyanna, standing at the bureau, gazed a little wistfullyat the bare wall above.
"And I can be glad there isn't any looking-glass here, too, 'cause wherethere ISN'T any glass I can't see my freckles."
Nancy made a sudden queer little sound with her mouth--but whenPollyanna turned, her head was in the trunk again. At one of thewindows, a few minutes later, Pollyanna gave a glad cry and clapped herhands joyously.
"Oh, Nancy, I hadn't
seen this before," she breathed. "Look--'way offthere, with those trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, andthe river shining just like silver. Why, Nancy, there doesn't anybodyneed any pictures with that to look at. Oh, I'm so glad now she let mehave this room!"
To Pollyanna's surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears. Pollyannahurriedly crossed to her side.
"Why, Nancy, Nancy--what is it?" she cried; then, fearfully: "Thiswasn't--YOUR room, was it?"
"My room!" stormed Nancy, hotly, choking back the tears. "If you ain'ta little angel straight from Heaven, and if some folks don't eat dirtbefore--Oh, land! there's her bell!" After which amazing speech, Nancysprang to her feet, dashed out of the room, and went clattering down thestairs.
Left alone, Pollyanna went back to her "picture," as she mentallydesignated the beautiful view from the window. After a time she touchedthe sash tentatively. It seemed as if no longer could she endure thestifling heat. To her joy the sash moved under her fingers. The nextmoment the window was wide open, and Pollyanna was leaning far out,drinking in the fresh, sweet air.
She ran then to the other window. That, too, soon flew up under hereager hands. A big fly swept past her nose, and buzzed noisily aboutthe room. Then another came, and another; but Pollyanna paid no heed.Pollyanna had made a wonderful discovery--against this window ahuge tree flung great branches. To Pollyanna they looked like armsoutstretched, inviting her. Suddenly she laughed aloud.
"I believe I can do it," she chuckled. The next moment she had climbednimbly to the window ledge. From there it was an easy matter to step tothe nearest tree-branch. Then, clinging like a monkey, she swung herselffrom limb to limb until the lowest branch was reached. The drop to theground was--even for Pollyanna, who was used to climbing trees--a littlefearsome. She took it, however, with bated breath, swinging from herstrong little arms, and landing on all fours in the soft grass. Then shepicked herself up and looked eagerly about her.
She was at the back of the house. Before her lay a garden in which abent old man was working. Beyond the garden a little path through anopen field led up a steep hill, at the top of which a lone pine treestood on guard beside the huge rock. To Pollyanna, at the moment, thereseemed to be just one place in the world worth being in--the top of thatbig rock.
With a run and a skilful turn, Pollyanna skipped by the bent old man,threaded her way between the orderly rows of green growing things,and--a little out of breath--reached the path that ran through the openfield. Then, determinedly, she began to climb. Already, however, she wasthinking what a long, long way off that rock must be, when back at thewindow it had looked so near!
Fifteen minutes later the great clock in the hallway of the Harringtonhomestead struck six. At precisely the last stroke Nancy sounded thebell for supper.
One, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly frowned and tapped the floorwith her slipper. A little jerkily she rose to her feet, went into thehall, and looked up-stairs, plainly impatient. For a minute she listenedintently; then she turned and swept into the dining room.
"Nancy," she said with decision, as soon as the little serving-maidappeared; "my niece is late. No, you need not call her," she addedseverely, as Nancy made a move toward the hall door. "I told her whattime supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. Shemay as well begin at once to learn to be punctual. When she comes downshe may have bread and milk in the kitchen."
"Yes, ma'am." It was well, perhaps, that Miss Polly did not happen to belooking at Nancy's face just then.
At the earliest possible moment after supper, Nancy crept up the backstairs and thence to the attic room.
"Bread and milk, indeed!--and when the poor lamb hain't only just criedherself to sleep," she was muttering fiercely, as she softly pushed openthe door. The next moment she gave a frightened cry. "Where are you?Where've you gone? Where HAVE you gone?" she panted, looking in thecloset, under the bed, and even in the trunk and down the water pitcher.Then she flew down-stairs and out to Old Tom in the garden.
"Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, that blessed child's gone," she wailed. "She'svanished right up into Heaven where she come from, poor lamb--and metold ter give her bread and milk in the kitchen--her what's eatin' angelfood this minute, I'll warrant, I'll warrant!"
The old man straightened up.
"Gone? Heaven?" he repeated stupidly, unconsciously sweeping thebrilliant sunset sky with his gaze. He stopped, stared a momentintently, then turned with a slow grin. "Well, Nancy, it do look like asif she'd tried ter get as nigh Heaven as she could, and that's a fact,"he agreed, pointing with a crooked finger to where, sharply outlinedagainst the reddening sky, a slender, wind-blown figure was poised ontop of a huge rock.
"Well, she ain't goin' ter Heaven that way ter-night--not if I has mysay," declared Nancy, doggedly. "If the mistress asks, tell her I ain'tfurgettin' the dishes, but I gone on a stroll," she flung back over hershoulder, as she sped toward the path that led through the open field.