Page 63 - pollyanna

Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks to-day as she
turned in at the gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes
were quite sparkling, indeed, at the prospect of meeting this
‘different’ Mrs. Snow.
A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her
knock at the door.
‘How do you do?’ began Pollyanna politely. ‘I’m from Miss
Polly Harrington, and I’d like to see Mrs. Snow, please.’
‘Well, if you would, you’re the first one that ever ‘liked’ to
see her,’ muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna
did not hear this. The girl had turned and was leading the
way through the hall to a door at the end of it.
In the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her in and
closed the door, Pollyanna blinked a little before she could
accustom her eyes to the gloom. Then she saw, dimly out-
lined, a woman half-sitting up in the bed across the room.
Pollyanna advanced at once.
‘How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes
you are comfortable to-day, and she’s sent you some calf’s-
foot jelly.’
‘Dear me! jelly?’ murmured a fretful voice,
‘Of course I’m very much obliged, but I was hoping
‘twould be lamb broth to-day.’
Pollyanna frowned a little.
‘Why, I thought it was CHICKEN you wanted when folks
brought you jelly,’ she said.
‘What?’ The sick woman turned sharply.
‘Why, nothing, much,’ apologized Pollyanna, hurriedly;
‘and of course it doesn’t really make any difference. It’s only

Pollyanna