Page 67 - pollyanna

it’ll fade, anyhow, before night, so what’s the difference!’
‘But I should think you’d be glad they did fade,’ laughed
Pollyanna, ‘ ‘cause then you can have the fun of getting
some more. I just love your hair fluffed out like that,’ she
finished with a satisfied gaze. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Hm-m; maybe. Still—‘twon’t last, with me tossing back
and forth on the pillow as I do.’
‘Of course not—and I’m glad, too,’ nodded Pollyan-
na, cheerfully, ‘because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I
should think you’d be glad it’s black—black shows up so
much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair like mine does.’
‘Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair—
shows gray too soon,’ retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke
fretfully, but she still held the mirror before her face.
‘Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it,’
sighed Pollyanna.
Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.
‘Well, you wouldn’t!—not if you were me. You wouldn’t
be glad for black hair nor anything else—if you had to lie
here all day as I do!’
Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.
‘Why, ‘twould be kind of hard—to do it then, wouldn’t it?’
she mused aloud.
‘Do what?’
‘Be glad about things.’
‘Be glad about things—when you’re sick in bed all your
days? Well, I should say it would,’ retorted Mrs. Snow. ‘If
you don’t think so, just tell me something to be glad about;
that’s all!’

Pollyanna