Page 79 - pollyanna

always, when ‘tis hard. And I will own up, honest to true,
that I couldn’t think of anything for a while. Then I got it.’
‘Did you, really? Well, what is it?’ Mrs. Snow’s voice was
sarcastically polite.
Pollyanna drew a long breath.
‘I thought—how glad you could be—that other folks
weren’t like you—all sick in bed like this, you know,’ she
announced impressively. Mrs, Snow stared. Her eyes were
angry.
‘Well, really!’ she ejaculated then, in not quite an agree-
able tone of voice.
‘And now I’ll tell you the game,’ proposed Pollyanna,
blithely confident. ‘It’ll be just lovely for you to play—it’ll
be so hard. And there’s so much more fun when it is hard!
You see, it’s like this.’ And she began to tell of the mission-
ary barrel, the crutches, and the doll that did not come.
The story was just finished when Milly appeared at the
door.
‘Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna,’ she said with
dreary listlessness. ‘She telephoned down to the Harlows’
across the way. She says you’re to hurry—that you’ve got
some practising to make up before dark.’
Pollyanna rose reluctantly.
‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll hurry.’ Suddenly she laughed. ‘I
suppose I ought to be glad I’ve got legs to hurry with, hadn’t
I, Mrs., Snow?’
There was no answer. Mrs. Snow’s eyes were closed. But
Milly, whose eyes were wide open with surprise, saw that
there were tears on the wasted cheeks.

Pollyanna