Page 42 - pollyanna

pounds hanging about her neck. ‘Is this the usual way you
say good morning?’
The little girl dropped to her toes, and danced lightly up
and down.
‘No, only when I love folks so I just can’t help it! I saw
you from my window, Aunt Polly, and I got to thinking how
you WEREN’T a Ladies’ Aider, and you were my really tru-
ly aunt; and you looked so good I just had to come down
and hug you!’
The bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss Polly
attempted a frown—with not her usual success.
‘Pollyanna, you—I Thomas, that will do for this morning.
I think you understand—about those rose-bushes,’ she said
stiffly. Then she turned and walked rapidly away.
‘Do you always work in the garden, Mr.—Man?’ asked
Pollyanna, interestedly.
The man turned. His lips were twitching, but his eyes
looked blurred as if with tears.
‘Yes, Miss. I’m Old Tom, the gardener,’ he answered. Tim-
idly, but as if impelled by an irresistible force, he reached
out a shaking hand and let it rest for a moment on her bright
hair. ‘You are so like your mother. little Miss! I used ter
know her when she was even littler than you be. You see, I
used ter work in the garden—then.’
Pollyanna caught her breath audibly.
‘You did? And you knew my mother, really—when she
was just a little earth angel, and not a Heaven one? Oh,
please tell me about her!’ And down plumped Pollyanna in
the middle of the dirt path by the old man’s side.

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