CHAPTER VIII. POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT
It was not long before life at the Harrington homestead settled intosomething like order--though not exactly the order that Miss Polly hadat first prescribed. Pollyanna sewed, practised, read aloud, and studiedcooking in the kitchen, it is true; but she did not give to any of thesethings quite so much time as had first been planned. She had more time,also, to "just live," as she expressed it, for almost all of everyafternoon from two until six o'clock was hers to do with as sheliked--provided she did not "like" to do certain things alreadyprohibited by Aunt Polly.
It is a question, perhaps, whether all this leisure time was given tothe child as a relief to Pollyanna from work--or as a relief to AuntPolly from Pollyanna. Certainly, as those first July days passed, MissPolly found occasion many times to ejaculate "What an extraordinarychild!" and certainly the reading and sewing lessons found her at theirconclusion each day somewhat dazed and wholly exhausted.
Nancy, in the kitchen, fared better. She was not dazed nor exhausted.Wednesdays and Saturdays came to be, indeed, red-letter days to her.
There were no children in the immediate neighborhood of the Harringtonhomestead for Pollyanna to play with. The house itself was on theoutskirts of the village, and though there were other houses not faraway, they did not chance to contain any boys or girls near Pollyanna'sage. This, however, did not seem to disturb Pollyanna in the least.
"Oh, no, I don't mind it at all," she explained to Nancy. "I'm happyjust to walk around and see the streets and the houses and watch thepeople. I just love people. Don't you, Nancy?"
"Well, I can't say I do--all of 'em," retorted Nancy, tersely.
Almost every pleasant afternoon found Pollyanna begging for "an errandto run," so that she might be off for a walk in one direction oranother; and it was on these walks that frequently she met the Man. Toherself Pollyanna always called him "the Man," no matter if she met adozen other men the same day.
The Man often wore a long black coat and a high silk hat--two thingsthat the "just men" never wore. His face was clean shaven and ratherpale, and his hair, showing below his hat, was somewhat gray. He walkederect, and rather rapidly, and he was always alone, which made Pollyannavaguely sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that she one dayspoke to him.
"How do you do, sir? Isn't this a nice day?" she called cheerily, as sheapproached him.
The man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly.
"Did you speak--to me?" he asked in a sharp voice.
"Yes, sir," beamed Pollyanna. "I say, it's a nice day, isn't it?"
"Eh? Oh! Humph!" he grunted; and strode on again.
Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought.
The next day she saw him again.
"'Tisn't quite so nice as yesterday, but it's pretty nice," she calledout cheerfully.
"Eh? Oh! Humph!" grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyannalaughed happily.
When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner,the man stopped abruptly.
"See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me everyday?"
"I'm Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I'm so gladyou stopped. Now we're introduced--only I don't know your name yet."
"Well, of all the--" The man did not finish his sentence, but strode onfaster than ever.
Pollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usuallysmiling lips.
"Maybe he didn't understand--but that was only half an introduction. Idon't know HIS name, yet," she murmured, as she proceeded on her way.
Pollyanna was carrying calf's-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow to-day. Miss PollyHarrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said shethought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, anda member of her church--it was the duty of all the church membersto look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snowusually on Thursday afternoons--not personally, but through Nancy.To-day Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly givenit to her in accordance with Miss Polly's orders.
"And it's glad that I am ter get rid of it," Nancy had declared inprivate afterwards to Pollyanna; "though it's a shame ter be tuckin' thejob off on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!"
"But I'd love to do it, Nancy."
"Well, you won't--after you've done it once," predicted Nancy, sourly.
"Why not?"
"Because nobody does. If folks wa'n't sorry for her there wouldn't asoul go near her from mornin' till night, she's that cantankerous. Allis, I pity her daughter what HAS ter take care of her."
"But, why, Nancy?"
Nancy shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, in plain words, it's just that nothin' what ever has happened,has happened right in Mis' Snow's eyes. Even the days of the week ain'trun ter her mind. If it's Monday she's bound ter say she wished 'twasSunday; and if you take her jelly you're pretty sure ter hear she wantedchicken--but if you DID bring her chicken, she'd be jest hankerin' forlamb broth!"
"Why, what a funny woman," laughed Pollyanna. "I think I shall liketo go to see her. She must be so surprising and--and different. I loveDIFFERENT folks."
"Humph! Well, Mis' Snow's 'different,' all right--I hope, for the sakeof the rest of us!" Nancy had finished grimly.
Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks to-day as she turned in atthe gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling,indeed, at the prospect of meeting this "different" Mrs. Snow.
A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door.
"How do you do?" began Pollyanna politely. "I'm from Miss PollyHarrington, and I'd like to see Mrs. Snow, please."
"Well, if you would, you're the first one that ever 'liked' to see her,"muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. Thegirl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door atthe end of it.
In the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door,Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to thegloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half-sitting up in the bedacross the room. Pollyanna advanced at once.
"How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are comfortableto-day, and she's sent you some calf's-foot jelly."
"Dear me! Jelly?" murmured a fretful voice. "Of course I'm very muchobliged, but I was hoping 'twould be lamb broth to-day."
Pollyanna frowned a little.
"Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks brought you jelly,"she said.
"What?" The sick woman turned sharply.
"Why, nothing, much," apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly; "and of courseit doesn't really make any difference. It's only that Nancy said it waschicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and lamb broth when we broughtchicken--but maybe 'twas the other way, and Nancy forgot."
The sick woman pulled herself up till she sat erect in the bed--a mostunusual thing for her to do, though Pollyanna did not know this.
"Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?" she demanded.
Pollyanna laughed gleefully.
"Oh, THAT isn't my name, Mrs. Snow--and I'm so glad 'tisn't, too! Thatwould be worse than 'Hephzibah,' wouldn't it? I'm Pollyanna Whittier,Miss Polly Harrington's niece, and I've come to live with her. That'swhy I'm here with the jelly this morning."
All through the first part of this sentence, the sick woman had satinterestedly erect; but at the reference to the jelly she fell back onher pillow listlessly.
"Very well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, of course, but myappetite isn't very good this morning, and I was wanting lamb--" Shestopped suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of subject. "Inever slept a wink last night--not a wink!"
"O dear, I wish _I_ didn't," sighed Pollyanna, placing the jelly on thelittle stand and seating herself comfortably in the nearest chair. "Youlose such a lot of time just sleeping! Don't you think so?"
"Lose time--sleeping!" exclaimed the sick w
oman.
"Yes, when you might be just living, you know. It seems such a pity wecan't live nights, too."
Once again the woman pulled herself erect in her bed.
"Well, if you ain't the amazing young one!" she cried. "Here! do you goto that window and pull up the curtain," she directed. "I should like toknow what you look like!"
Pollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a little ruefully.
"O dear! then you'll see my freckles, won't you?" she sighed, as shewent to the window; "--and just when I was being so glad it was dark andyou couldn't see 'em. There! Now you can--oh!" she broke off excitedly,as she turned back to the bed; "I'm so glad you wanted to see me,because now I can see you! They didn't tell me you were so pretty!"
"Me!--pretty!" scoffed the woman, bitterly.
"Why, yes. Didn't you know it?" cried Pollyanna.
"Well, no, I didn't," retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. Mrs. Snow had livedforty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busywishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as theywere.
"Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hair's all dark, too,and curly," cooed Pollyanna. "I love black curls. (That's one of thethings I'm going to have when I get to Heaven.) And you've got twolittle red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! Ishould think you'd know it when you looked at yourself in the glass."
"The glass!" snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. "Yes,well, I hain't done much prinkin' before the mirror these days--and youwouldn't, if you was flat on your back as I am!"
"Why, no, of course not," agreed Pollyanna, sympathetically. "Butwait--just let me show you," she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureauand picking up a small hand-glass.
On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with acritical gaze.
"I reckon maybe, if you don't mind, I'd like to fix your hair just alittle 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 'twon't stay, you know."
"Oh, thank you. I love to fix people's hair," exulted Pollyanna,carefully laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. "I sha'n'tdo much to-day, of course--I'm in such a hurry for you to see how prettyyou are; but some day I'm going to take it all down and have a perfectlylovely time with it," she cried, touching with soft fingers the wavinghair above the sick woman's forehead.
For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractorycurl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, orshaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a betterpose. Meanwhile the sick woman, frowning prodigiously, and openlyscoffing at the whole procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning totingle with a feeling perilously near to excitement.
"There!" panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase near byand tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect."Now I reckon we're ready to be looked at!" And she held out the mirrorin triumph.
"Humph!" grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. "I likered pinks better than pink ones; but then, it'll fade, anyhow, beforenight, so what's the difference!"
"But I should think you'd be glad they did fade," laughed Pollyanna,"'cause then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love yourhair fluffed out like that," she finished with a satisfied gaze. "Don'tyou?"
"Hm-m; maybe. Still--'twon't last, with me tossing back and forth on thepillow as I do."
"Of course not--and I'm glad, too," nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully,"because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think you'd be gladit's black--black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hairlike mine does."
"Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair--shows gray toosoon," retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held themirror before her face.
"Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it," sighedPollyanna.
Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.
"Well, you wouldn't!--not if you were me. You wouldn't be glad for blackhair 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, wouldn't it?" she musedaloud.
"Do what?"
"Be glad about things."
"Be glad about things--when you're sick in bed all your days? Well, Ishould say it would," retorted Mrs. Snow. "If you don't think so, justtell me something to be glad about; that's all!"
To Mrs. Snow's unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet andclapped her hands.
"Oh, goody! That'll be a hard one--won't it? I've got to go, now, butI'll think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I comeI can tell it to you. Good-by. I've had a lovely time! Good-by," shecalled 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 upthe mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.
"That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake," shemuttered under her breath. "I declare, I didn't know it could look sopretty. But then, what's the use?" she sighed, dropping the little glassinto the bedclothes, and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully.
A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow's daughter, came in, the mirrorstill lay among the bedclothes--thought it had been carefully hidden from sight.
"Why, mother--the curtain is up!" cried Milly, dividing her amazed starebetween the window and the pink in her mother's hair.
"Well, what if it is?" snapped the sick woman. "I needn't stay in thedark all my life, if I am sick, need I?"
"Why, n-no, of course not," rejoined Milly, in hasty conciliation, asshe reached for the medicine bottle. "It's only--well, you know verywell that I've tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and youwouldn't."
There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on hernightgown. At last she spoke fretfully.
"I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress--instead of lambbroth, for a change!"
"Why--mother!"
No wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawerbehind her at that moment lay two new nightdresses that Milly for monthshad been vainly urging her mother to wear.