Page 93 - pollyanna

and that I knew you would be to him, because of course he’s
even nicer than cats and dogs.’
Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shak-
ing hand to her throat. The old helplessness was threatening
once more to overcome her. With a visible struggle, how-
ever, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly erect.
‘That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the most absurd
thing you’ve done yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs
weren’t bad enough but you must needs bring home ragged
little beggars from the street, who—‘
There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed
and his chin came up. With two strides of his sturdy little
legs he confronted Miss Polly fearlessly.
‘I ain’t a beggar, marm, an’ I don’t want nothin’ o’ you. I
was cal’latin’ ter work, of course, fur my board an’ keep. I
wouldn’t have come ter your old house, anyhow, if this ‘ere
girl hadn’t ‘a’ made me, a-tellin’ me how you was so good an’
kind that you’d be jest dyin’ ter take me in. So, there!’ And
he wheeled about and stalked from the room with a dignity
that would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful.
‘Oh, Aunt Polly,’ choked Pollyanna. ‘Why, I thought
you’d be GLAD to have him here! I’m sure, I should think
you’d be glad—‘
Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of
silence. Miss Polly’s nerves had snapped at last. The ‘good
and kind’ of the boy’s words were still ringing in her ears,
and the old helplessness was almost upon her, she knew. Yet
she rallied her forces with the last atom of her will power.
‘Pollyanna,’ she cried sharply, ‘WILL you stop using

Pollyanna