Page 54 - pollyanna

I sha’n’t never hear ‘Nancy’ now that I don’t think o’ that
‘Hep—Hep!’ and giggle. My, I guess I AM glad—‘ She
stopped short and turned amazed eyes on the little girl.
‘Say, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean—was you playin’ that
‘ere game THEN—about my bein’ glad I wa’n’t named Hep-
hzibah’?’
Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed.
‘Why, Nancy, that’s so! I WAS playing the game—but
that’s one of the times I just did it without thinking, I reckon.
You see, you DO, lots of times; you get so used to it—look-
ing for something to be glad about, you know. And most
generally there is something about everything that you can
be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.’
‘Well, m-maybe,’ granted Nancy, with open doubt.
At half-past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. The screens
had not yet come, and the close little room was like an oven.
With longing eyes Pollyanna looked at the two fast-closed
windows—but she did not raise them. She undressed, fold-
ed her clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew out her candle
and climbed into bed.
Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from
side to side of the hot little cot, she did not know; but it
seemed to her that it must have been hours before she fi-
nally slipped out of bed, felt her way across the room and
opened her door.
Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness save where
the moon flung a path of silver half-way across the floor
from the east dormer window. With a resolute ignoring of
that fearsome darkness to the right and to the left, Polly-