Page 113 - pollyanna

Mrs. Snow’s calf’s-foot jelly this week to some one else? I’m
sure Mrs. Snow wouldn’t—this once.’
‘Dear me, Pollyanna, what ARE you up to now? sighed
her aunt. ‘You ARE the most extraordinary child!’
Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously.
‘Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you’re EX-
traordinary you can’t be ORdinary, can you?’
‘You certainly can not.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I’m glad I’m EXtraordinary,’
sighed Pollyanna, her face clearing. ‘You see, Mrs. White
used to say Mrs. Rawson was a very ordinary woman—and
she disliked Mrs. Rawson something awful. They were al-
ways fight—I mean, father had—that is, I mean, WE had
more trouble keeping peace between them than we did be-
tween any of the rest of the Aiders,’ corrected Pollyanna, a
little breathless from her efforts to steer between the Scyl-
la of her father’s past commands in regard to speaking of
church quarrels, and the Charybdis of her aunt’s present
commands in regard to speaking of her father.
‘Yes, yes; well, never mind,’ interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle
impatiently. ‘You do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter
what we’re talking about you always bring up at those La-
dies’ Aiders!’
‘Yes’m,’ smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, ‘I reckon I do, may-
be. But you see they used to bring me up, and—‘
‘That will do, Pollyanna,’ interrupted a cold voice. ‘Now
what is it about this jelly?’
‘Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, I’m
sure. You let me take jelly to HER, so I thought you would

11 Pollyanna