Page 29 - pollyanna

Pollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile.
‘That’s so! I can be glad of that, can’t I?’ she cried.
Nancy stared.
‘Why, of—course,’ she answered a little uncertainly.
Nancy’s capable hands made short work of unpacking
the books, the patched undergarments, and the few pitifully
unattractive dresses. Pollyanna, smiling bravely now, flew
about, hanging the dresses in the closet, stacking the books
on the table, and putting away the undergarments in the
bureau drawers.
‘I’m sure it—it’s going to be a very nice room. Don’t you
think so?’ she stammered, after a while.
There was no answer. Nancy was very busy, apparently,
with her head in the trunk. Pollyanna, standing at the bu-
reau, gazed a little wistfully at the bare wall above.
‘And I can be glad there isn’t any looking-glass here, too,
‘cause where there ISN’T any glass I can’t see my freckles.’
Nancy made a sudden queer little sound with her
mouth—but when Pollyanna turned, her head was in the
trunk again. At one of the windows, a few minutes later,
Pollyanna gave a glad cry and clapped her hands joyously.
‘Oh, Nancy, I hadn’t seen this before,’ she breathed.
‘Look—‘way off there, with those trees and the houses and
that lovely church spire, and the river shining just like sil-
ver. Why, Nancy, there doesn’t anybody need any pictures
with that to look at. Oh, I’m so glad now she let me have
this room!’
To Pollyanna’s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into
tears. Pollyanna hurriedly crossed to her side.

Pollyanna