Page 189 - pollyanna

nurse had just entered.
It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old Tom, who
was cleaning harnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild.
‘Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom. guess what’s happened,’ she panted.
‘You couldn’t guess in a thousand years—you couldn’t, you
couldn’t!’
‘Then I cal’late I won’t try,’ retorted the man, grimly, ‘spe-
cially as I hain’t got more’n TEN ter live, anyhow, probably.
You’d better tell me first off, Nancy.’
‘Well, listen, then. Who do you s’pose is in the parlor now
with the mistress? Who, I say?’
Old Tom shook his head.
‘There’s no tellin’,’ he declared.
‘Yes, there is. I’m tellin’. It’s—John Pendleton!’
‘Sho, now! You’re jokin’, girl.’
‘Not much I am—an’ me a-lettin’ him in myself—crutch-
es an’ all! An’ the team he come in a-waitin’ this minute at
the door for him, jest as if he wa’n’t the cranky old cross-
patch he is, what never talks ter no one! jest think, Mr.
Tom—HIM a-callin’ on HER!’
‘Well, why not?’ demanded the old man, a little aggres-
sively.
Nancy gave him a scornful glance.
‘As if you didn’t know better’n me!’ she derided.
‘Eh?’
‘Oh, you needn’t be so innercent,’ she retorted with mock
indignation; ‘—you what led me wildgoose chasin’ in the
first place!’
‘What do ye mean?’

1 Pollyanna