Page 184 - pollyanna

‘I guess you mean internally, Nancy,’ he said dryly. ‘She’s
hurt infernally, all right—plague take that autymobile!—but
I don’t guess Miss Polly’d be usin’ that word, all the same.’
‘Eh? Well, I don’t know, I don’t know,’ moaned Nancy,
with a shake of her head as she turned away. ‘Seems as if I
jest couldn’t stand it till that doctor gits out o’ there. I wish
I had a washin’ ter do—the biggest washin’ I ever see, I do, I
do!’ she wailed, wringing her hands helplessly.
Even after the doctor was gone, however, there seemed to
be little that Nancy could tell Mr. Tom. There appeared to
be no bones broken, and the cut was of slight consequence;
but the doctor had looked very grave, had shaken his head
slowly, and had said that time alone could tell. After he had
gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and more
drawn looking than before. The patient had not fully recov-
ered consciousness, but at present she seemed to be resting
as comfortably as could be expected. A trained nurse had
been sent for, and would come that night. That was all. And
Nancy turned sobbingly, and went back to her kitchen.
It was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyan-
na opened conscious eyes and realized where she was.
‘Why, Aunt Polly, what’s the matter? Isn’t it daytime?
Why don’t I get up?’ she cried. ‘Why, Aunt Polly, I can’t get
up,’ she moaned, falling back on the pillow, after an ineffec-
tual attempt to lift herself.
‘No, dear, I wouldn’t try—just yet,’ soothed her aunt
quickly, but very quietly.
‘But what is the matter? Why can’t I get up?’
Miss Polly’s eyes asked an agonized question of the

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