Pollyanna Grows Up

  CHAPTER XII

  FROM BEHIND A COUNTER

  Mrs. Carew was very angry. To have brought herself to the point whereshe was willing to take this lame boy into her home, and then to havethe lad calmly refuse to come, was unbearable. Mrs. Carew was not inthe habit of having her invitations ignored, or her wishes scorned.Furthermore, now that she could not have the boy, she was conscious ofan almost frantic terror lest he were, after all, the real Jamie. Sheknew then that her true reason for wanting him had been--not becauseshe cared for him, not even because she wished to help him and makehim happy--but because she hoped, by taking him, that she would easeher own mind, and forever silence that awful eternal questioning onher part: "What if he WERE her own Jamie?"

  It certainly had not helped matters any that the boy had divined herstate of mind, and had given as the reason for his refusal that she"did not care." To be sure, Mrs. Carew now very proudly told herselfthat she did not indeed "care," that he was NOT her sister's boy, andthat she would "forget all about it."

  But she did not forget all about it. However insistently she mightdisclaim responsibility and relationship, just as insistentlyresponsibility and relationship thrust themselves upon her in theshape of panicky doubts; and however resolutely she turned herthoughts to other matters, just so resolutely visions of awistful-eyed boy in a poverty-stricken room loomed always before her.

  Then, too, there was Pollyanna. Clearly Pollyanna was not herself atall. In a most unPollyanna-like spirit she moped about the house,finding apparently no interest anywhere.

  "Oh, no, I'm not sick," she would answer, when remonstrated with, andquestioned.

  "But what IS the trouble?"

  "Why, nothing. It--it's only that I was thinking of Jamie, youknow,--how HE hasn't got all these beautiful things--carpets, andpictures, and curtains."

  It was the same with her food. Pollyanna was actually losing herappetite; but here again she disclaimed sickness.

  "Oh, no," she would sigh mournfully. "It's just that I don't seemhungry. Some way, just as soon as I begin to eat, I think of Jamie,and how HE doesn't have only old doughnuts and dry rolls; and thenI--I don't want anything."

  Mrs. Carew, spurred by a feeling that she herself only dimlyunderstood, and recklessly determined to bring about some change inPollyanna at all costs, ordered a huge tree, two dozen wreaths, andquantities of holly and Christmas baubles. For the first time in manyyears the house was aflame and aglitter with scarlet and tinsel. Therewas even to be a Christmas party, for Mrs. Carew had told Pollyanna toinvite half a dozen of her schoolgirl friends for the tree onChristmas Eve.

  But even here Mrs. Carew met with disappointment; for, thoughPollyanna was always grateful, and at times interested and evenexcited, she still carried frequently a sober little face. And in theend the Christmas party was more of a sorrow than a joy; for the firstglimpse of the glittering tree sent her into a storm of sobs.

  "Why, Pollyanna!" ejaculated Mrs. Carew. "What in the world is thematter now?"

  "N-n-nothing," wept Pollyanna. "It's only that it's so perfectly,perfectly beautiful that I just had to cry. I was thinking how Jamiewould love to see it."

  It was then that Mrs. Carew's patience snapped.

  "'Jamie, Jamie, Jamie'!" she exclaimed. "Pollyanna, CAN'T you stoptalking about that boy? You know perfectly well that it is not myfault that he is not here. I asked him to come here to live. Besides,where is that glad game of yours? I think it would be an excellentidea if you would play it on this."

  "I AM playing it," quavered Pollyanna. "And that's what I don'tunderstand. I never knew it to act so funny. Why, before, when I'vebeen glad about things, I've been happy. But now, about Jamie--I'm soglad I've got carpets and pictures and nice things to eat, and that Ican walk and run, and go to school, and all that; but the harder I'mglad for myself, the sorrier I am for him. I never knew the game toact so funny, and I don't know what ails it. Do you?"

  But Mrs. Carew, with a despairing gesture, merely turned away withouta word.

  It was the day after Christmas that something so wonderful happenedthat Pollyanna, for a time, almost forgot Jamie. Mrs. Carew had takenher shopping, and it was while Mrs. Carew was trying to decide betweena duchesse-lace and a point-lace collar, that Pollyanna chanced to spyfarther down the counter a face that looked vaguely familiar. For amoment she regarded it frowningly; then, with a little cry, she randown the aisle.

  "Oh, it's you--it IS you!" she exclaimed joyously to a girl who wasputting into the show case a tray of pink bows. "I'm so glad to seeyou!"

  The girl behind the counter lifted her head and stared at Pollyanna inamazement. But almost immediately her dark, somber face lighted with asmile of glad recognition.

  "Well, well, if it isn't my little Public Garden kiddie!" sheejaculated.

  "Yes. I'm so glad you remembered," beamed Pollyanna. "But you nevercame again. I looked for you lots of times."

  "I couldn't. I had to work. That was our last half-holiday, and--Fiftycents, madam," she broke off, in answer to a sweet-faced old lady'squestion as to the price of a black-and-white bow on the counter.

  "Fifty cents? Hm-m!" The old lady fingered the bow, hesitated, thenlaid it down with a sigh. "Hm, yes; well, it's very pretty, I'm sure,my dear," she said, as she passed on.

  Immediately behind her came two bright-faced girls who, with muchgiggling and bantering, picked out a jeweled creation of scarletvelvet, and a fairy-like structure of tulle and pink buds. As thegirls turned chattering away Pollyanna drew an ecstatic sigh.

  "Is this what you do all day? My, how glad you must be you chosethis!"

  "GLAD!"

  "Yes. It must be such fun--such lots of folks, you know, and alldifferent! And you can talk to 'em. You HAVE to talk to 'em--it's yourbusiness. I should love that. I think I'll do this when I grow up. Itmust be such fun to see what they all buy!"

  "Fun! Glad!" bristled the girl behind the counter. "Well, child, Iguess if you knew half--That's a dollar, madam," she interruptedherself hastily, in answer to a young woman's sharp question as to theprice of a flaring yellow bow of beaded velvet in the show case.

  "Well, I should think 'twas time you told me," snapped the youngwoman. "I had to ask you twice."

  The girl behind the counter bit her lip.

  "I didn't hear you, madam."

  "I can't help that. It is your business TO hear. You are paid for it,aren't you? How much is that black one?"

  "Fifty cents."

  "And that blue one?"

  "One dollar."

  "No impudence, miss! You needn't be so short about it, or I shallreport you. Let me see that tray of pink ones."

  The salesgirl's lips opened, then closed in a thin, straight line.Obediently she reached into the show case and took out the tray ofpink bows; but her eyes flashed, and her hands shook visibly as sheset the tray down on the counter. The young woman whom she was servingpicked up five bows, asked the price of four of them, then turned awaywith a brief:

  "I see nothing I care for."

  "Well," said the girl behind the counter, in a shaking voice, to thewide-eyed Pollyanna, "what do you think of my business now? Anythingto be glad about there?"

  Pollyanna giggled a little hysterically.

  "My, wasn't she cross? But she was kind of funny, too--don't youthink? Anyhow, you can be glad that--that they aren't ALL like HER,can't you?"

  "I suppose so," said the girl, with a faint smile, "But I can tell youright now, kiddie, that glad game of yours you was tellin' me aboutthat day in the Garden may be all very well for you; but--" Once moreshe stopped with a tired: "Fifty cents, madam," in answer to aquestion from the other side of the counter.

  "Are you as lonesome as ever?" asked Pollyanna wistfully, when thesalesgirl was at liberty again.

  "Well, I can't say I've given more'n five parties, nor been to more'nseven, since I saw you," replied the girl so bitterly that Pollyannadetected the sarcasm.

  "Oh, but you did something nice Christmas, didn't you?"
r />   "Oh, yes. I stayed in bed all day with my feet done up in rags andread four newspapers and one magazine. Then at night I hobbled out toa restaurant where I had to blow in thirty-five cents for chicken pieinstead of a quarter."

  "But what ailed your feet?"

  "Blistered. Standin' on 'em--Christmas rush."

  "Oh!" shuddered Pollyanna, sympathetically. "And you didn't have anytree, or party, or anything?" she cried, distressed and shocked.

  "Well, hardly!"

  "O dear! How I wish you could have seen mine!" sighed the little girl."It was just lovely, and--But, oh, say!" she exclaimed joyously. "Youcan see it, after all. It isn't gone yet. Now, can't you come outto-night, or to-morrow night, and--"

  "PollyANNA!" interrupted Mrs. Carew in her chilliest accents. "What inthe world does this mean? Where have you been? I have lookedeverywhere for you. I even went 'way back to the suit department."

  Pollyanna turned with a happy little cry.

  "Oh, Mrs. Carew, I'm so glad you've come," she rejoiced. "Thisis--well, I don't know her name yet, but I know HER, so it's allright. I met her in the Public Garden ever so long ago. And she'slonesome, and doesn't know anybody. And her father was a minister likemine, only he's alive. And she didn't have any Christmas tree onlyblistered feet and chicken pie; and I want her to see mine, youknow--the tree, I mean," plunged on Pollyanna, breathlessly. "I'veasked her to come out to-night, or to-morrow night. And you'll let mehave it all lighted up again, won't you?"

  "'I don't know her name yet, but I know HER, so it'sall right'"]

  "Well, really, Pollyanna," began Mrs. Carew, in cold disapproval. Butthe girl behind the counter interrupted with a voice quite as cold,and even more disapproving.

  "Don't worry, madam. I've no notion of goin'."

  "Oh, but PLEASE," begged Pollyanna. "You don't know how I want you,and--"

  "I notice the lady ain't doin' any askin'," interrupted the salesgirl,a little maliciously.

  Mrs. Carew flushed an angry red, and turned as if to go; but Pollyannacaught her arm and held it, talking meanwhile almost frenziedly to thegirl behind the counter, who happened, at the moment, to be free fromcustomers.

  "Oh, but she will, she will," Pollyanna was saying. "She wants you tocome--I know she does. Why, you don't know how good she is, and howmuch money she gives to--to charitable 'sociations and everything."

  "PollyANNA!" remonstrated Mrs. Carew, sharply. Once more she wouldhave gone, but this time she was held spellbound by the ringing scornin the low, tense voice of the salesgirl.

  "Oh, yes, I know! There's lots of 'em that'll give to RESCUE work.There's always plenty of helpin' hands stretched out to them that hasgone wrong. And that's all right. I ain't findin' no fault with that.Only sometimes I wonder there don't some of 'em think of helpin' thegirls BEFORE they go wrong. Why don't they give GOOD girls prettyhomes with books and pictures and soft carpets and music, and somebody'round 'em to care? Maybe then there wouldn't be so many--Goodheavens, what am I sayin'?" she broke off, under her breath. Then,with the old weariness, she turned to a young woman who had stoppedbefore her and picked up a blue bow.

  "That's fifty cents, madam," Mrs. Carew heard, as she hurriedPollyanna away.