Pollyanna Grows Up

  CHAPTER V

  POLLYANNA TAKES A WALK

  It was on the second Saturday afternoon that Pollyanna took hermemorable walk. Heretofore Pollyanna had not walked out alone, exceptto go to and from school. That she would ever attempt to exploreBoston streets by herself, never occurred to Mrs. Carew, hence shenaturally had never forbidden it. In Beldingsville, however, Pollyannahad found--especially at the first--her chief diversion in strollingabout the rambling old village streets in search of new friends andnew adventures.

  On this particular Saturday afternoon Mrs. Carew had said, as sheoften did say: "There, there, child, run away; please do. Go where youlike and do what you like, only don't, please, ask me any morequestions to-day!"

  Until now, left to herself, Pollyanna had always found plenty tointerest her within the four walls of the house; for, if inanimatethings failed, there were yet Mary, Jennie, Bridget, and Perkins.To-day, however, Mary had a headache, Jennie was trimming a new hat,Bridget was making apple pies, and Perkins was nowhere to be found.Moreover it was a particularly beautiful September day, and nothingwithin the house was so alluring as the bright sunlight and balmy airoutside. So outside Pollyanna went and dropped herself down on thesteps.

  For some time she watched in silence the well-dressed men, women, andchildren, who walked briskly by the house, or else sauntered moreleisurely through the parkway that extended up and down the middle ofthe Avenue. Then she got to her feet, skipped down the steps, andstood looking, first to the right, then to the left.

  Pollyanna had decided that she, too, would take a walk. It was abeautiful day for a walk, and not once, yet, had she taken one atall--not a REAL walk. Just going to and from school did not count. Soshe would take one to-day. Mrs. Carew would not mind. Had she not toldher to do just what she pleased so long as she asked no morequestions? And there was the whole long afternoon before her. Onlythink what a lot one might see in a whole long afternoon! And itreally was such a beautiful day. She would go--this way! And with alittle whirl and skip of pure joy, Pollyanna turned and walkedblithely down the Avenue.

  Into the eyes of those she met Pollyanna smiled joyously. She wasdisappointed--but not surprised--that she received no answering smilein return. She was used to that now--in Boston. She still smiled,however, hopefully: there might be some one, sometime, who would smileback.

  Mrs. Carew's home was very near the beginning of Commonwealth Avenue,so it was not long before Pollyanna found herself at the edge of astreet crossing her way at right angles. Across the street, in all itsautumn glory, lay what to Pollyanna was the most beautiful "yard" shehad ever seen--the Boston Public Garden.

  For a moment Pollyanna hesitated, her eyes longingly fixed on thewealth of beauty before her. That it was the private grounds of somerich man or woman, she did not for a moment doubt. Once, with Dr. Amesat the Sanatorium, she had been taken to call on a lady who lived in abeautiful house surrounded by just such walks and trees andflower-beds as these.

  Pollyanna wanted now very much to cross the street and walk in thosegrounds, but she doubted if she had the right. To be sure, others werethere, moving about, she could see; but they might be invited guests,of course. After she had seen two women, one man, and a little girlunhesitatingly enter the gate and walk briskly down the path, however,Pollyanna concluded that she, too, might go. Watching her chance sheskipped nimbly across the street and entered the Garden.

  It was even more beautiful close at hand than it had been at adistance. Birds twittered over her head, and a squirrel leaped acrossthe path ahead of her. On benches here and there sat men, women, andchildren. Through the trees flashed the sparkle of the sun on water;and from somewhere came the shouts of children and the sound of music.

  Once again Pollyanna hesitated; then, a little timidly, she accosted ahandsomely-dressed young woman coming toward her.

  "Please, is this--a party?" she asked.

  The young woman stared.

  "A party!" she repeated dazedly.

  "Yes'm. I mean, is it all right for me--to be here?"

  "For you to be here? Why, of course. It's for--for everybody!"exclaimed the young woman.

  "Oh, that's all right, then. I'm glad I came," beamed Pollyanna.

  The young woman said nothing; but she turned back and looked atPollyanna still dazedly as she hurried away.

  Pollyanna, not at all surprised that the owner of this beautiful placeshould be so generous as to give a party to everybody, continued onher way. At the turn of the path she came upon a small girl and a dollcarriage. She stopped with a glad little cry, but she had not said adozen words before from somewhere came a young woman with hurryingsteps and a disapproving voice; a young woman who held out her hand tothe small girl, and said sharply:

  "Here, Gladys, Gladys, come away with me. Hasn't mama told you not totalk to strange children?"

  "But I'm not strange children," explained Pollyanna in eager defense."I live right here in Boston, now, and--" But the young woman and thelittle girl dragging the doll carriage were already far down the path;and with a half-stifled sigh Pollyanna fell back. For a moment shestood silent, plainly disappointed; then resolutely she lifted herchin and went forward.

  "Well, anyhow, I can be glad for that," she nodded to herself, "fornow maybe I'll find somebody even nicer--Susie Smith, perhaps, or evenMrs. Carew's Jamie. Anyhow, I can IMAGINE I'm going to find them; andif I don't find THEM, I can find SOMEBODY!" she finished, her wistfuleyes on the self-absorbed people all about her.

  Undeniably Pollyanna was lonesome. Brought up by her father and theLadies' Aid Society in a small Western town, she had counted everyhouse in the village her home, and every man, woman, and child herfriend. Coming to her aunt in Vermont at eleven years of age, she hadpromptly assumed that conditions would differ only in that the homesand the friends would be new, and therefore even more delightful,possibly, for they would be "different"--and Pollyanna did so love"different" things and people! Her first and always her supremedelight in Beldingsville, therefore, had been her long rambles aboutthe town and the charming visits with the new friends she had made.Quite naturally, in consequence, Boston, as she first saw it, seemedto Pollyanna even more delightfully promising in its possibilities.

  Thus far, however, Pollyanna had to admit that in one respect, atleast, it had been disappointing: she had been here nearly two weeksand she did not yet know the people who lived across the street, oreven next door. More inexplicable still, Mrs. Carew herself did notknow many of them, and not any of them well. She seemed, indeed,utterly indifferent to her neighbors, which was most amazing fromPollyanna's point of view; but nothing she could say appeared tochange Mrs. Carew's attitude in the matter at all.

  "They do not interest me, Pollyanna," was all she would say; and withthis, Pollyanna--whom they did interest very much--was forced to becontent.

  To-day, on her walk, however, Pollyanna had started out with highhopes, yet thus far she seemed destined to be disappointed. Here allabout her were people who were doubtless most delightful--if she onlyknew them. But she did not know them. Worse yet, there seemed to be noprospect that she would know them, for they did not, apparently, wishto know her: Pollyanna was still smarting under the nurse's sharpwarning concerning "strange children."

  "Well, I reckon I'll just have to show 'em that I'm not strangechildren," she said at last to herself, moving confidently forwardagain.

  Pursuant of this idea Pollyanna smiled sweetly into the eyes of thenext person she met, and said blithely:

  "It's a nice day, isn't it?"

  "Er--what? Oh, y-yes, it is," murmured the lady addressed, as shehastened on a little faster.

  Twice again Pollyanna tried the same experiment, but with likedisappointing results. Soon she came upon the little pond that she hadseen sparkling in the sunlight through the trees. It was a beautifulpond, and on it were several pretty little boats full of laughingchildren. As she watched them, Pollyanna felt more and moredissatisfied to remain by herself. It was then that, spying a mans
itting alone not far away, she advanced slowly toward him and satdown on the other end of the bench. Once Pollyanna would have dancedunhesitatingly to the man's side and suggested acquaintanceship with acheery confidence that had no doubt of a welcome; but recent rebuffshad filled her with unaccustomed diffidence. Covertly she looked atthe man now.

  He was not very good to look at. His garments, though new, were dusty,and plainly showed lack of care. They were of the cut and style(though Pollyanna of course did not know this) that the State givesits prisoners as a freedom suit. His face was a pasty white, and wasadorned with a week's beard. His hat was pulled far down over hiseyes. With his hands in his pockets he sat idly staring at the ground.

  For a long minute Pollyanna said nothing; then hopefully she began:

  "It IS a nice day, isn't it?"

  The man turned his head with a start.

  "Eh? Oh--er--what did you say?" he questioned, with a curiouslyfrightened look around to make sure the remark was addressed to him.

  "I said 'twas a nice day," explained Pollyanna in hurried earnestness;"but I don't care about that especially. That is, of course I'm gladit's a nice day, but I said it just as a beginning to things, and I'djust as soon talk about something else--anything else. It's only thatI wanted you to talk--about something, you see."

  The man gave a low laugh. Even to Pollyanna the laugh sounded a littlequeer, though she did not know (as did the man) that a laugh to hislips had been a stranger for many months.

  "So you want me to talk, do you?" he said a little sadly. "Well, Idon't see but what I shall have to do it, then. Still, I should thinka nice little lady like you might find lots nicer people to talk tothan an old duffer like me."

  "Oh, but I like old duffers," exclaimed Pollyanna quickly; "that is, Ilike the OLD part, and I don't know what a duffer is, so I can'tdislike that. Besides, if you are a duffer, I reckon I like duffers.Anyhow, I like you," she finished, with a contented little settling ofherself in her seat that carried conviction.

  "Humph! Well, I'm sure I'm flattered," smiled the man, ironically.Though his face and words expressed polite doubt, it might have beennoticed that he sat a little straighter on the bench. "And, pray, whatshall we talk about?"

  "It's--it's infinitesimal to me. That means I don't care, doesn't it?"asked Pollyanna, with a beaming smile. "Aunt Polly says that, whateverI talk about, anyhow, I always bring up at the Ladies' Aiders. But Ireckon that's because they brought me up first, don't you? We mighttalk about the party. I think it's a perfectly beautiful party--nowthat I know some one."

  "P-party?"

  "Yes--this, you know--all these people here to-day. It IS a party,isn't it? The lady said it was for everybody, so I stayed--though Ihaven't got to where the house is, yet, that's giving the party."

  The man's lips twitched.

  "Well, little lady, perhaps it is a party, in a way," he smiled; "butthe 'house' that's giving it is the city of Boston. This is the PublicGarden--a public park, you understand, for everybody."

  "Is it? Always? And I may come here any time I want to? Oh, howperfectly lovely! That's even nicer than I thought it could be. I'dworried for fear I couldn't ever come again, after to-day, you see.I'm glad now, though, that I didn't know it just at the first, forit's all the nicer now. Nice things are nicer when you've beenworrying for fear they won't be nice, aren't they?"

  "Perhaps they are--if they ever turn out to be nice at all," concededthe man, a little gloomily.

  "Yes, I think so," nodded Pollyanna, not noticing the gloom. "Butisn't it beautiful--here?" she gloried. "I wonder if Mrs. Carew knowsabout it--that it's for anybody, so. Why, I should think everybodywould want to come here all the time, and just stay and look around."

  The man's face hardened.

  "Well, there are a few people in the world who have got a job--who'vegot something to do besides just to come here and stay and lookaround; but I don't happen to be one of them."

  "Don't you? Then you can be glad for that, can't you?" sighedPollyanna, her eyes delightedly following a passing boat.

  The man's lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna wasstill talking.

  "I wish _I_ didn't have anything to do but that. I have to go toschool. Oh, I like school; but there's such a whole lot of things Ilike better. Still I'm glad I CAN go to school. I'm 'specially gladwhen I remember how last winter I didn't think I could ever go again.You see, I lost my legs for a while--I mean, they didn't go; and youknow you never know how much you use things, till you don't have 'em.And eyes, too. Did you ever think what a lot you do with eyes? Ididn't till I went to the Sanatorium. There was a lady there who hadjust got blind the year before. I tried to get her to play thegame--finding something to be glad about, you know--but she said shecouldn't; and if I wanted to know why, I might tie up my eyes with myhandkerchief for just one hour. And I did. It was awful. Did you evertry it?"

  "Why, n-no, I didn't." A half-vexed, half-baffled expression wascoming to the man's face.

  "Well, don't. It's awful. You can't do anything--not anything that youwant to do. But I kept it on the whole hour. Since then I've been soglad, sometimes--when I see something perfectly lovely like this, youknow--I've been so glad I wanted to cry;--'cause I COULD see it, youknow. She's playing the game now, though--that blind lady is. MissWetherby told me."

  "The--GAME?"

  "Yes; the glad game. Didn't I tell you? Finding something ineverything to be glad about. Well, she's found it now--about her eyes,you know. Her husband is the kind of a man that goes to help make thelaws, and she had him ask for one that would help blind people,'specially little babies. And she went herself and talked and toldthose men how it felt to be blind. And they made it--that law. Andthey said that she did more than anybody else, even her husband, tohelp make it, and that they didn't believe there would have been anylaw at all if it hadn't been for her. So now she says she's glad shelost her eyes, 'cause she's kept so many little babies from growing upto be blind like her. So you see she's playing it--the game. But Ireckon you don't know about the game yet, after all; so I'll tell you.It started this way." And Pollyanna, with her eyes on the shimmeringbeauty all about her, told of the little pair of crutches of long ago,which should have been a doll.

  When the story was finished there was a long silence; then, a littleabruptly the man got to his feet.

  "Oh, are you going away NOW?" she asked in open disappointment.

  "Yes, I'm going now." He smiled down at her a little queerly.

  "But you're coming back sometime?"

  He shook his head--but again he smiled.

  "I hope not--and I believe not, little girl. You see, I've made agreat discovery to-day. I thought I was down and out. I thought therewas no place for me anywhere--now. But I've just discovered that I'vegot two eyes, two arms, and two legs. Now I'm going to use them--andI'm going to MAKE somebody understand that I know how to use them!"

  The next moment he was gone.

  "Why, what a funny man!" mused Pollyanna. "Still, he was nice--and hewas different, too," she finished, rising to her feet and resuming herwalk.

  Pollyanna was now once more her usual cheerful self, and she steppedwith the confident assurance of one who has no doubt. Had not the mansaid that this was a public park, and that she had as good a right asanybody to be there? She walked nearer to the pond and crossed thebridge to the starting-place of the little boats. For some time shewatched the children happily, keeping a particularly sharp lookout forthe possible black curls of Susie Smith. She would have liked to takea ride in the pretty boats, herself, but the sign said "Five cents" atrip, and she did not have any money with her. She smiled hopefullyinto the faces of several women, and twice she spoke tentatively. Butno one spoke first to her, and those whom she addressed eyed hercoldly, and made scant response.

  After a time she turned her steps into still another path. Here shefound a white-faced boy in a wheel chair. She would have spoken tohim, but he was so absorbed in his book that she turned away after amoment's
wistful gazing. Soon then she came upon a pretty, butsad-looking young girl sitting alone, staring at nothing, very much asthe man had sat. With a contented little cry Pollyanna hurriedforward.

  "Oh, how do you do?" she beamed. "I'm so glad I found you! I've beenhunting ever so long for you," she asserted, dropping herself down onthe unoccupied end of the bench.

  The pretty girl turned with a start, an eager look of expectancy inher eyes.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed, falling back in plain disappointment. "Ithought-- Why, what do you mean?" she demanded aggrievedly. "I neverset eyes on you before in my life."

  "No, I didn't you, either," smiled Pollyanna; "but I've been huntingfor you, just the same. That is, of course I didn't know you weregoing to be YOU exactly. It's just that I wanted to find some one thatlooked lonesome, and that didn't have anybody. Like me, you know. Somany here to-day have got folks. See?"

  "Yes, I see," nodded the girl, falling back into her old listlessness."But, poor little kid, it's too bad YOU should find it out--so soon."

  "Find what out?"

  "That the lonesomest place in all the world is in a crowd in a bigcity."

  Pollyanna frowned and pondered.

  "Is it? I don't see how it can be. I don't see how you can be lonesomewhen you've got folks all around you. Still--" she hesitated, and thefrown deepened. "I WAS lonesome this afternoon, and there WERE folksall around me; only they didn't seem to--to think--or notice."

  The pretty girl smiled bitterly.

  "That's just it. They don't ever think--or notice, crowds don't."

  "But some folks do. We can be glad some do," urged Pollyanna. "Nowwhen I--"

  "Oh, yes, some do," interrupted the other. As she spoke she shiveredand looked fearfully down the path beyond Pollyanna. "Some notice--toomuch."

  Pollyanna shrank back in dismay. Repeated rebuffs that afternoon hadgiven her a new sensitiveness.

  "Do you mean--me?" she stammered. "That you wished Ihadn't--noticed--you?"

  "No, no, kiddie! I meant--some one quite different from you. Some onethat hadn't ought to notice. I was glad to have you speak, only--Ithought at first it was some one from home."

  "Oh, then you don't live here, either, any more than I do--I mean, forkeeps."

  "Oh, yes, I live here now," sighed the girl; "that is, if you can callit living--what I do."

  "What do you do?" asked Pollyanna interestedly.

  "Do? I'll tell you what I do," cried the other, with suddenbitterness. "From morning till night I sell fluffy laces and perkybows to girls that laugh and talk and KNOW each other. Then I go hometo a little back room up three flights just big enough to hold a lumpycot-bed, a washstand with a nicked pitcher, one rickety chair, and me.It's like a furnace in the summer and an ice box in the winter; butit's all the place I've got, and I'm supposed to stay in it--when Iain't workin'. But I've come out to-day. I ain't goin' to stay in thatroom, and I ain't goin' to go to any old library to read, neither.It's our last half-holiday this year--and an extra one, at that; andI'm going to have a good time--for once. I'm just as young, and I liketo laugh and joke just as well as them girls I sell bows to all day.Well, to-day I'm going to laugh and joke."

  Pollyanna smiled and nodded her approval.

  "I'm glad you feel that way. I do, too. It's a lot more fun--to behappy, isn't it? Besides, the Bible tells us to;--rejoice and be glad,I mean. It tells us to eight hundred times. Probably you know about'em, though--the rejoicing texts."

  The pretty girl shook her head. A queer look came to her face.

  "Well, no," she said dryly. "I can't say I WAS thinkin'--of theBible."

  "Weren't you? Well, maybe not; but, you see, MY father was a minister,and he--"

  "A MINISTER?"

  "Yes. Why, was yours, too?" cried Pollyanna, answering something shesaw in the other's face.

  "Y-yes." A faint color crept up to the girl's forehead.

  "Oh, and has he gone like mine to be with God and the angels?"

  The girl turned away her head.

  "No. He's still living--back home," she answered, half under herbreath.

  "Oh, how glad you must be," sighed Pollyanna, enviously. "Sometimes Iget to thinking, if only I could just SEE father once--but you do seeyour father, don't you?"

  "Not often. You see, I'm down--here."

  "But you CAN see him--and I can't, mine. He's gone to be with motherand the rest of us up in Heaven, and-- Have you got a mother, too--anearth mother?"

  "Y-yes." The girl stirred restlessly, and half moved as if to go.

  "Oh, then you can see both of them," breathed Pollyanna, unutterablelonging in her face. "Oh, how glad you must be! For there just isn'tanybody, is there, that really CARES and notices quite so much asfathers and mothers. You see I know, for I had a father until I waseleven years old; but, for a mother, I had Ladies' Aiders for ever solong, till Aunt Polly took me. Ladies' Aiders are lovely, but ofcourse they aren't like mothers, or even Aunt Pollys; and--"

  On and on Pollyanna talked. Pollyanna was in her element now.Pollyanna loved to talk. That there was anything strange or unwise oreven unconventional in this intimate telling of her thoughts and herhistory to a total stranger on a Boston park bench did not once occurto Pollyanna. To Pollyanna all men, women, and children were friends,either known or unknown; and thus far she had found the unknown quiteas delightful as the known, for with them there was always theexcitement of mystery and adventure--while they were changing from theunknown to the known.

  To this young girl at her side, therefore, Pollyanna talkedunreservedly of her father, her Aunt Polly, her Western home, and herjourney East to Vermont. She told of new friends and old friends, andof course she told of the game. Pollyanna almost always told everybodyof the game, either sooner or later. It was, indeed, so much a part ofher very self that she could hardly have helped telling of it.

  As for the girl--she said little. She was not now sitting in her oldlistless attitude, however, and to her whole self had come a markedchange. The flushed cheeks, frowning brow, troubled eyes, andnervously working fingers were plainly the signs of some inwardstruggle. From time to time she glanced apprehensively down the pathbeyond Pollyanna, and it was after such a glance that she clutched thelittle girl's arm.

  "See here, kiddie, for just a minute don't you leave me. Do you hear?Stay right where you are? There's a man I know comin'; but no matterwhat he says, don't you pay no attention, and DON'T YOU GO. I'm goin'to stay with YOU. See?"

  Before Pollyanna could more than gasp her wonderment and surprise, shefound herself looking up into the face of a very handsome younggentleman, who had stopped before them.

  "Oh, here you are," he smiled pleasantly, lifting his hat toPollyanna's companion. "I'm afraid I'll have to begin with anapology--I'm a little late."

  "It don't matter, sir," said the young girl, speaking hurriedly."I--I've decided not to go."

  The young man gave a light laugh.

  "Oh, come, my clear, don't be hard on a chap because he's a littlelate!"

  "It isn't that, really," defended the girl, a swift red flaming intoher cheeks. "I mean--I'm not going."

  "Nonsense!" The man stopped smiling. He spoke sharply. "You saidyesterday you'd go."

  "I know; but I've changed my mind. I told my little friend here--I'dstay with her."

  "Oh, but if you'd rather go with this nice young gentleman," beganPollyanna, anxiously; but she fell back silenced at the look the girlgave her.

  "I tell you I had NOT rather go. I'm not going."

  "And, pray, why this sudden right-about face?" demanded the young manwith an expression that made him suddenly look, to Pollyanna, notquite so handsome. "Yesterday you said--"

  "I know I did," interrupted the girl, feverishly. "But I knew thenthat I hadn't ought to. Let's call it--that I know it even better now.That's all." And she turned away resolutely.

  It was not all. The man spoke again, twice. He coaxed, then he sneeredwith a hateful look in his eyes. At last he said something very lowand
angry, which Pollyanna did not understand. The next moment hewheeled about and strode away.

  The girl watched him tensely till he passed quite out of sight, then,relaxing, she laid a shaking hand on Pollyanna's arm.

  "Thanks, kiddie. I reckon I owe you--more than you know. Good-by."

  "But you aren't going away NOW!" bemoaned Pollyanna.

  The girl sighed wearily.

  "I got to. He might come back, and next time I might not be able to--"She clipped the words short and rose to her feet. For a moment shehesitated, then she choked bitterly: "You see, he's the kindthat--notices too much, and that hadn't ought to notice--ME--at all!"With that she was gone.

  "Why, what a funny lady," murmured Pollyanna, looking wistfully afterthe vanishing figure. "She was nice, but she was sort of different,too," she commented, rising to her feet and moving idly down the path.