Page 68 - pollyanna

To Mrs. Snow’s unbounded amazement, Pollyanna
sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
‘Oh, goody! That’ll be a hard one—won’t it? I’ve got to go,
now, but I’ll think and think all the way home; and may-
be the next time I come I can tell it to you. Good-by. I’ve
had a lovely time! Good-by,’ she called again, as she tripped
through the doorway.
‘Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that?’ ejac-
ulated Mrs. Snow, staring after her visitor. By and by she
turned her head and picked up the mirror, eyeing her re-
flection critically.
‘That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mis-
take,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I declare, I didn’t
know it could look so pretty. But then, what’s the use?’ she
sighed, dropping the little glass into the bedclothes, and
rolling her head on the pillow fretfully.
A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow’s daughter, came in,
the mirror still lay among the bedclothes it had been care-
fully hidden from sight.
‘Why, mother—the curtain is up!’ cried Milly, dividing
her amazed stare between the window and the pink in her
mother’s hair.
‘Well, what if it is?’ snapped the sick woman. ‘I needn’t
stay in the dark all my life, if I am sick, need I?’
‘Why, n-no, of course not,’ rejoined Milly, in hasty concili-
ation, as she reached for the medicine bottle. ‘It’s only—well,
you know very well that I’ve tried to get you to have a lighter
room for ages and you wouldn’t.’
There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the