Page 145 - pollyanna

CHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS

s the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very
Afrequently to the great house on Pendleton Hill. She did
not feel, however, that her visits were really a success. Not
but that the man seemed to want her there—he sent for her,
indeed, frequently; but that when she was there, he seemed
scarcely any the happier for her presence—at least, so Pol-
lyanna thought.
He talked to her, it was true, and be showed her many
strange and beautiful things—books, pictures, and curios.
But he still fretted audibly over his own helplessness, and
he chafed visibly under the rules and ‘regulatings’ of the un-
welcome members of his household. He did, indeed, seem
to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna talk-
ed, Pollyanna liked to talk—but she was never sure that she
would not look up and find him lying back on his pillow
with that white, hurt look that always pained her; and she
was never sure which—if any—of her words had brought
it there. As for telling him the ‘glad game,’ and trying to
get him to play it—Pollyanna had never seen the time yet
when she thought he would care to hear about it. She had
twice tried to tell him; but neither time had she got beyond
the beginning of what her father had said—John Pendleton
had on each occasion turned the conversation abruptly to
another subject.

1 Pollyanna