Page 225 - pollyanna

Nancy laughed.
‘I know it does sound nutty, ma’am. But let me tell ye.
That blessed lamb found out I hated Monday mornin’s
somethin’ awful; an’ what does she up an’ tell me one day
but this: ‘Well, anyhow, Nancy, I should think you could
be gladder on Monday mornin’ than on any other day in
the week, because ‘twould be a whole WEEK before you’d
have another one!’ An’ I’m blest if I hain’t thought of it ev’ry
Monday mornin’ since—an’ it HAS helped, ma’am. It made
me laugh, anyhow, ev’ry time I thought of it; an’ laughin’
helps, ye know—it does, it does!’
‘But why hasn’t—she told me—the game?’ faltered Miss
Polly. ‘Why has she made such a mystery of it, when I asked
her?’
Nancy hesitated.
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, you told her not ter speak
of—her father; so she couldn’t tell ye. ‘Twas her father’s
game, ye see.’
Miss Polly bit her lip.
‘She wanted ter tell ye, first off,’ continued Nancy, a little
unsteadily. ‘She wanted somebody ter play it with, ye know.
That’s why I begun it, so she could have some one.’
‘And—and—these others?’ Miss Polly’s voice shook now.
‘Oh, ev’rybody, ‘most, knows it now, I guess. Any-
how, I should think they did from the way I’m hearin’ of
it ev’rywhere I go. Of course she told a lot, and they told
the rest. Them things go, ye know, when they gets started.
An’ she was always so smilin’ an’ pleasant ter ev’ry one, an’
so—so jest glad herself all the time, that they couldn’t help

Pollyanna