Page 223 - pollyanna

strained her nerves to the snapping point. Not since Miss
Pollyanna’s accident had Nancy heard her mistress speak
so sternly.
‘Nancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd ‘game’ is
that the whole town seems to be babbling about? And what,
please, has my niece to do with it? WHY does everybody,
from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her that
they’re ‘playing it’? As near as I can judge, half the town
are putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, or
learning to like something they never liked before, and all
because of Pollyanna. I tried to ask the child herself about
it, but I can’t seem to make much headway, and of course I
don’t like to worry her—now. But from something I heard
her say to you last night, I should judge you were one of
them, too. Now WILL you tell me what it all means?’
To Miss Polly’s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into
tears.
‘It means that ever since last June that blessed child has
jest been makin’ the whole town glad, an’ now they’re turnin’
‘round an’ tryin’ ter make her a little glad, too.’
‘Glad of what?’
‘Just glad! That’s the game.’
Miss Polly actually stamped her foot.
‘There you go like all the rest, Nancy. What game?’
Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress and looked
her squarely in the eye.
‘I’ll tell ye, ma’am. It’s a game Miss Pollyanna’s father
learned her ter play. She got a pair of crutches once in a mis-
sionary barrel when she was wantin’ a doll; an’ she cried, of

Pollyanna