Page 146 - pollyanna

Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was
her Aunt Polly’s one-time lover; and with all the strength
of her loving, loyal heart, she wished she could in some way
bring happiness into their to her mind—miserably lonely
lives.
Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see.
She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened,
sometimes politely, sometimes irritably, frequently with a
quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her
aunt about Mr. Pendleton—or rather, she tried to talk to her
about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would
not listen—long. She always found something else to talk
about. She frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna
was talking of others—of Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyan-
na laid this, though, to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton
who had seen her in the sun parlor with the rose in her hair
and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly,
indeed, seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as
Pollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up
in the house.
‘If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,’
Aunt Polly said.
‘Shall you? Then I’m going to be worse,’ gurgled Pollyan-
na. ‘I’d love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me!’
She wondered, then, at the look that came to her aunt’s
face.
‘It will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna,’ Miss Polly said
sternly. ‘Dr. Chilton is not our family physician. I shall send
for Dr. Warren—if you are worse.’

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