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What's up everybody, Jason here for jazzy's case breaks calm just sold out 2012 13 pinion prime hockey is a one box break three random teams each number 49 So again, ten total spots everybody gets three random teams and again one of the better patches You can see in any product as you know those laces. This is insane You can collect jumbo patches that create one big logo and emblem So very nice stuff Like I said, let's get it going guys So let's roll the dice and then we got a five another six eleven times and we tripled your names Let's go long time one two three four five six seven eight nine ten and eleven eleven times Jagga number uno Don't know Phillip. Alright, let's go eleven times on the teams now one two three four five six seven eight nine ten and eleven Bruins Down to the orders All right, Jagga the Bruins back with the Hurricanes scouts the Sabres Jason Panthers Scout the Dallas Stars Jason of the wild maverick with the Blackhawks Phillip with the Canucks Scott with the Islanders Phillip with the Penguins maverick with the Leafs Jack with the Predators last one with her willing with the Yotes Maverick with the Ducks lightning Jack with the Red Wings Mark with the Flames willing with the Sands Ryan with sharks Phillip with the Devils Ryan with the Flyers willing with the blues and blue jackets Jays with the Kings Phillip with the Rangers willing with the Jets Ryan with the Avalanche Phillip with the Caps willing with the Canadians and then Phillip with the Oilers All right quick 30 seconds if you guys want to make trades if not we will Shut down the trade window. I'm assuming everybody wants to trade show in the clothes. Let's pray and rip. All right, here you go Jack the Bruins last one Mulder Red Wings and Predators Think in the last box that most enjoy most of number Good luck. We got the Dominion pack. So say that Dominion pack and we'll go with the Prime Hockey pack first Sergey Bobrowski to 249 Blue jackets It's going to will it Yacht Prime duals 33 out of 50. It's a Michael Stone and Keith Yandle Arizona coyote is gonna with him. Then we got a prime duals Rook Barstie an aloo Flames Maverick you got a big e for Corey Emerton 36 out of 75 Detroit Red Wings When a Jack last bomb all Joe And we've got a Aaron Ness Quad relic and auto out of 249 Prime rookies for the New York islanders Islander is going to Scott and the Dominion pack. Good luck. He's really contains two cards First we got is Luke Robota 61 out of 125 for my kinks Jays these are iconic jerseys right here guys Black Chevy logo Very very nice Think he still is the most high-scoring left-winger of all time in NHL. I'm sure someone will pass them soon though, but for left-wingers Wow, look at that. We got a one-of-one shield Ryan Hamilton.  That's awesome But a shield 101 It's been hiding here this whole time very very nice some Maverick there with the Leafs There you go appreciate it Jaspies case rakes.com


17 John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna's day with Well, Miss Pollyanna, I'm thinking you must be a very forgiving little person, else you wouldn't have come to see me again today. Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, and I'm sure I don't see why I shouldn't be either. Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I'm afraid. Both the other day when you so kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when you found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don't think I've ever thanked you for that. Now I'm sure that even you would admit that you were very forgiving to come and see me after such ungrateful treatment as that. Pollyanna stirred uneasily. But I was glad to find you. That is, I don't mean I was glad your leg was broken, of course. She corrected hurriedly. John Pendleton smiled. I understand. Your tongue does get away with you once in a while, doesn't it, Miss Pollyanna? I do thank you, however, and I consider you a very brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for the jelly, too, he added, in a lighter voice. Did you like it, asked Pollyanna with interest? Very much. I suppose there isn't any more today that Aunt Polly didn't send, is there, he asked with an odd smile. His visitor looked distressed. No, sir, she hesitated, then went on with heightened color. Please, Mr. Pendleton, I didn't mean to be rude the other day. When I said Aunt Polly did not send the jelly. There was no answer. John Pendleton was not smiling now. He was looking straight ahead of him with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and beyond the object before them. After a time he drew a long sigh and turned to Pollyanna. When he spoke his voice carried the old nervous fretfulness. Well, well, this will never do at all. I didn't send for you to see me moping this time. Listen, out in the library, the big room where the telephone is, you know, you will find a carved box on the lower shelf of the big case with glass doors in the corner, not far from the fireplace. That is, it will be there if that confounded woman hasn't regulated it to somewhere else. You may bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too heavy for you to carry, I think. Oh, I am awfully strong, declared Pollyanna cheerfully, as she sprang to her feet. In a minute she had returned with the box. It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was full of treasures, curios that John Pendleton had picked up in years of travel, and concerning each there was some entertaining story, whether it were a set of exquisitely carved chessmen from China or a little jade idol from India. It was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna murmured wistfully. Well, I suppose it would be better to take a little boy in India to bring up, one that doesn't know any more than to think that God was in that doll thing, than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who knows God is up in the sky. Still, I can't help wishing they had wanted Jimmy Bean too, besides the India boys. John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his eyes were staring straight before him, looking at nothing. But soon he had roused himself and had picked up another curio to talk about. The visit certainly was a delightful one. But before it was over Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides the wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly and of her daily life. They were talking too even of the life and home long ago in the far western town. Not until it was nearly time for her to go did the man say, in a voice Pollyanna had never heard from stern John Pendleton, little girl I want you to come to see me often, will you? I'm lonesome and I need you. There's another reason and I'm going to tell you that too. I thought at first, after I found out who you were the other day, that I didn't want you to come any more. You reminded me of something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said to myself that I never wanted to see you again. And every day when the doctor asked if I wouldn't let him bring you to me I said no. But after a time I found I was wanting to see you so much, that the fact that I wasn't seeing you was making me remember all the more vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So now I want you to come. Will you little girl? Why yes, Mr. Pendleton, breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with sympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her. I'd love to come. Thank you, said John Pendleton gently. After supper that evening Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton's wonderful carved box and the still more wonderful things it contained. And to think, said Nancy, that he showed ye all them things and told ye about them like that. Him that so cross he never talks to no one, no one. Oh, but he isn't cross Nancy only outside, demured Pollyanna, with quick loyalty. I don't see why everybody thinks he's so bad either. They wouldn't if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly doesn't like him very well. She wouldn't send the jelly to him, you know, and she was so afraid he'd think she did send it. Probably she didn't call him no duty, shrug Nancy. But what beats me is how he happened to take to you so, Miss Pollyanna, meaning no offense to you, of course.  He ain't, he ain't. Pollyanna smiled happily. But he did, Nancy, she nodded. Only I reckon even he didn't want to all the time. Why, only today he owned up that one time he just felt he never wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of something he wanted to forget. But afterwards, what's that interrupted Nancy excitedly? He said you reminded him of something he wanted to forget? Yes, but afterwards. What was it, Nancy was eagerly insistent? He didn't tell me, he just said it was something. The mystery breathed Nancy in an awestruck voice. That's why he took to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna, why, that's just like a book. I've read lots of them. Lady Maud's secret and the lost heir and hidden for years. All of them had mysteries and things just like this. My stars and stockings, just think of having a book live right under your nose like this, and me not knowing it all this time. Now tell me everything, everything he said, Miss Pollyanna, there's a dear.  But he didn't cry, Pollyanna, not till I talked to him first. And he didn't even know who I was till I took the cast foot jelly and had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn't send it, and Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly. Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know. I know, I know she exalted rapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna's side again. Tell me now, think, and answer straight and true, she urged excitedly. It was after he found out you was Miss Polly's niece that he said he didn't ever want to see you again, wasn't it? Oh yes, I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this today. I thought as much, triumph Nancy, and Miss Polly wouldn't send the jelly herself, would she? Oh, and you told him she didn't send it?  He did that, didn't he?  Admitted Pollyanna with a thoughtful frown. Nancy drew a long sigh. Then I've got it, sure. Now listen, Mr. John Pendleton was Miss Polly Harrington's lover, she announced, impressively, but with a furtive glance over her shoulder. Why, Nancy, he couldn't be, she doesn't like him, objected Pollyanna. Nancy gave her a scornful glance. Of course she don't, that's the quarrel. Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy happily settled herself to tell the story. It's like this.  I didn't believe it. I couldn't. Her and a lover? But Mr. Tom said she had, and that he was living now right in this town. And now I know, of course, it's John Pendleton. Hate he got a mystery in his life? Don't he shut himself up in that grand house alone, and never speak to no one?   Just as if anybody couldn't see it was Miss Polly. And her saying she wouldn't send him no jelly too. Why Miss Pollyanna it's as plain as a nose in your face it is it is. Oh! breathed Pollyanna in wide-eyed amazement. But Nancy, I should think if they loved each other they'd make up some time. Both of them all alone, so all these years. I should think they'd be glad to make up. Nancy sniffed disdainfully. I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers Miss Pollyanna. You ain't big enough yet anyhow. But if there is a set of folks in the world that wouldn't have no use for that air glad game of yorn it'd be a pair of quarrel and lovers, and that's what they be. Ain't he crosses sticks most generally, and ain't she? Nancy stopped abruptly remembering just in time to whom and about whom she was speaking. Suddenly however she chuckled. I ain't sayin' though Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty slick piece of business if you could get them to play in it so they would be glad to make up. But my land wouldn't folks stare some Miss Polly and him? I guess though there ain't much chance much chance. Pollyanna said nothing, but when she went into the house a little later her face was very thoughtful. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of Pollyanna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Anderson Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter 18 Prisms As the warm August days passed Pollyanna went very frequently to the great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel however that her visits were really a success. Not but what the man seemed to want her there he sent for her indeed frequently. But that when she was there he seemed scarcely any the happier for her presence at least so Pollyanna thought. He talked to her it was true and he showed her many strange and beautiful things books, pictures and curios. But he still fretted audibly over his own helplessness and he chafed visibly under the rules and regulations of the unwelcome members of his household. He did indeed seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk however and Pollyanna talked, Pollyanna liked to talk but she was never sure that she would not look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white hurt look that always pained her and she was never sure which if any of her words had brought it there. As for telling him the glad game and trying to get him to play it Pollyanna had never seen the time yet when she thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice tried to tell him but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of what her father had said. John Pendleton had on each occasion turned the conversation abruptly to another subject. Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Polly's one-time lover and with all the strength of her loving loyal heart she wished she could in some way bring happiness into there to her mind miserably lonely lives. Just how she was to do this however she could not see. She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her Aunt and he listened sometimes politely, sometimes irritably frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her Aunt about Mr. Pendleton or rather she tried to talk to her about him. As a general thing however Miss Polly would not listen long. She always found something else to talk about. She frequently did that however when Pollyanna was talking of others of Dr. Chilton for instance. Pollyanna laid this though to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun-parler with the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly indeed seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton as Pollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house. If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor Aunt Polly said. Shall you? That I'm going to be worse, gurgled Pollyanna. I'd love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me. She wondered then at the look that came to her Aunt's face. It will not be Dr. Chilton Pollyanna, Miss Polly said sternly. Dr. Chilton is not our family physician. I shall send for Dr. Warren if you are worse. Pollyanna did not grow worse however and Dr. Warren was not summoned. And I'm so glad too, Pollyanna said to her Aunt that evening. Of course I like Dr. Warren and all that, but I like Dr. Chilton better. And I'm afraid he'd feel hurt if I didn't have him. You see he wasn't really to blame after all that he happened to see you when I dressed you up so pretty that day Aunt Polly. She finished wistfully. That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish to discuss Dr. Chilton or his feelings or proved Miss Polly decisively. Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with mournfully interested eyes then she sighed. I just love to see you when your cheeks are pink like that Aunt Polly. But I would so like to fix your hair. If? Why Aunt Polly? But her Aunt was already out of sight down the hall. It was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, making an early morning call on John Pendleton found the flaming band of blue and gold and green edge with red and violet lying across his pillow. She stopped short in odd delight. Why, Mr. Pendleton, it's a baby rainbow.  Oh, oh, oh! How pretty it is! But how did it get in? she cried. The man laughed a little grimly. John Pendleton was particularly out of sorts with the whole world this morning. Well, I suppose it got in through the beveled edge of that glass thermometer in the window, he said warily. The sun shouldn't strike it at all, but it does in the morning. Oh, but it's so pretty, Mr. Pendleton! And does just the sun do that? My, if it was mine, I'd have it hang in the sun all day long. Lots of good you'd get out of the thermometer, then, laughed the man. How do you suppose you could tell how hot it was or how cold it was if the thermometer hung in the sun all day? I shouldn't care, breathed Pollyanna, her fascinated eyes and the brilliant band of colors across the pillow. Just as if anybody'd care when they were living all the time in a rainbow. The man laughed. He was watching Pollyanna's wrapped face a little curiously. Suddenly a new thought came to him. He touched the bell at his side. Nora, he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door, bring me one of the big brass candlesticks from the mantel in the front drawing-room. Yes, sir, murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed. In a minute she had returned. A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced wonderingly toward the bed. It came from the prism pendants encircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand. Thank you, you may set it here on the stand, he directed the man. Now get a string and fasten it to the sash curtain fixtures of that window there. Take down the sash curtain and let the string reach straight across the window from side to side. That will be all, thank you, he said, when she had carried out his directions. As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering Pollyanna. Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna. With both hands she brought it, and in a moment he was slipping off the pendants one by one until they lay a round dozen of them side by side on the bed. Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string nor are fixed across the window. If you really want to live in a rainbow I don't see but will have to have a rainbow for you to live in. Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlight window before she saw a little of what was going to happen. She was so excited that she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up the rest. But at last her task was finished and she stepped back with a low cry of delight. It had become a fairyland that sumptuous but dreary bedroom. Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, gold and blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed itself were aflame with shimmering bits of color.  Then she laughed suddenly. I just reckon the son himself is trying to play the game now, don't you? She cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talking about. Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those things. How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow and lots of folks. I reckon then they'd be glad, all right. Why, I think even Aunt Polly'd get so glad she couldn't help banging doors if she lived in a rainbow like that. Don't you? Mr. Pendleton laughed. Well, from my remembrance of your Aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I think it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight to make her bang many doors for gladness. But come now, really. What do you mean? Pollyanna stared slightly then she drew a long breath. Oh, I forgot. You don't know about the game. I remember now. Suppose you tell me then. And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from the very first, from the crutches that should have been a doll. As she talked she did not look at his face. Her wrapped eyes were still on the dancing flecks of colour from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlight window. And that's all, she sighed, when she had finished. And now you know why I said the sun was trying to play it, that game. For a moment there was silence, then a low voice from the bed said unsteadily, Perhaps, but I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is yourself, Pollyanna. Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. Pendleton. Don't you, smiled the man? And Pollyanna, looking into his face, wondered why there were tears in his eyes. No, she said. Then after a minute she added mournfully, I'm afraid, Mr. Pendleton, the sun doesn't make anything but freckles out of me. Aunt Polly says it does make them. The man laughed a little, and again Pollyanna looked at him.  End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of Pollyanna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter 19 Which is somewhat surprising. Pollyanna entered school in September. Preliminary examination showed that she was well advanced for a girl of her years, and she was soon a happy member of a class of girls and boys her own age. School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna. And Pollyanna certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna confessed that going to school was living after all, though she had had her doubts before. In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of course, but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton of them all, however, was the most dissatisfied. One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it. See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me, he asked a little impatiently. I don't see anything of you nowadays. Pollyanna laughed. Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man. I thought you didn't like to have folks round, she said. He made a rye face. Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of yours. Now I'm glad to be waited on hand and foot. Never mind, I'll be on my own two feet yet, one of these days. Then I'll see who steps around, he finished, picking up one of the crutches at his side and shaking it playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great library today. Oh, but you aren't really glad at all for things.   The man's face grew suddenly very grave. That's why I want you, little girl, to help me play it. Will you come? Pollyanna turned in surprise. Mr. Pendleton, you don't really mean that. But I do, I want you. Will you come? Pollyanna looked distressed. Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can't. You know I can't. Why, I'm Aunt Polly's. A quick something crossed the man's face that Pollyanna could not quite understand. His head came up almost fiercely. You're no more hers then. Perhaps she would let you come to me, he finished more gently. Would you come if she did? Pollyanna frowned in deep thought. But Aunt Polly has been so good to me, she began slowly. And she took me when I didn't have anybody left but the lady's aid. And again that spasm of something crossed the man's face. But this time when he spoke, his voice was low and very sad. Pollyanna. Long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to bring her some day to this house. I pictured how happy we'd be together in our home all the long years to come. Yes, pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy. But well, I didn't bring her here. Never mind why. I just didn't, that's all. And ever since then this great gray pile of stone has been a house, never a home. It takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence to make a home, Pollyanna. And I have not had either. Now will you come, my dear? Pollyanna sprang to her feet, her face was fairly illumined. Mr. Pendleton, you mean that you wish you had had that woman's hand and heart all this time? Why, yes, Pollyanna. Oh, I'm so glad. Then it's all right, side the little girl. Now you can take us both, and everything will be lovely.  A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna's countenance. Well, of course. Aunt Polly isn't went over yet, but I'm sure she will be if you tell it to her just as you did to me. And then we'd both come, of course. A look of actual terror leaped to the man's eyes. Aunt Polly come here? Pollyanna's eyes widened a little. Would you rather go there, she asked? Of course the house isn't quite so pretty, but it's nearer. Pollyanna, what are you talking about, asked the man very gently now? Why, about where we're going to live, of course, rejoined Pollyanna in obvious surprise. I thought you meant here, at first. You said it was here that you had wanted Aunt Polly's hand and heart all these years to make a home. And an inarticulate cry came from the man's throat. He raised his hand and began to speak. But the next moment he dropped his hand nervously at his side. The doctor, sir, said the maid in the doorway. Pollyanna rose at once. John Pendleton turned to her feverishly. Pollyanna, for heaven's sake, say nothing of what I asked you yet, he begged in a low voice. Pollyanna dimpled into a sunny smile. Of course not. Just as if I didn't know you'd rather tell her yourself, she called back merrily over her shoulder. John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair. Why, what's up demanded the doctor a minute later, his fingers on his patient's galloping pulse. A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton's lips. Over dose of your tonic, I guess he laughed, as he noted the doctor's eyes following Pollyanna's little figure down the driveway. End of Chapter 19. Pollyanna, Chapter 20. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 20. Which is more surprising? Sunday mornings Pollyanna usually attended church and Sunday school. Sunday afternoon she frequently went for a walk with Nancy. She had planned one for the day after her Saturday afternoon visit to Mr. John Pendleton. But on the way home from Sunday school, Dr. Chilton overtook her in his gig and brought his horse to a stop.  I want to speak to you a minute. I was just driving out to your place to tell you, he went on, as Pollyanna settled herself at his side. Mr. Pendleton sent a special request for you to go to see him this afternoon. Sure. He says it's very important. Pollyanna nodded happily. Yes, it is, I know, I'll go. The doctor eyed her with some surprise. I'm not sure I shall let you after all he declared, his eyes twinkling. You seemed more upsetting than soothing yesterday, young lady. Pollyanna laughed. Oh, it wasn't me truly. Not really, you know. Not so much as it was Aunt Polly. The doctor turned with a quick start. Your aunt, he ejaculated? Pollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat. Yes, and it's so exciting and lovely, just like a story, you know. I—I'm going to tell you she burst out with sudden decision. He said not to mention it, but he wouldn't mind your knowing, of course. He meant not to mention it to her. Her? Yes, Aunt Polly. And, of course, he would want to tell her himself, instead of having me do it, lovers so. Lovers?  Yes, not at Pollyanna happily.  I didn't know it till Nancy told me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years ago and they quarreled. She didn't know who it was at first, but we found out now. It's Mr. Pendleton, you know. The doctor relaxed suddenly. The hand holding the reins fell limply to his lap. Oh, no, I didn't know, he said quietly. Pollyanna hurried on. They were nearing the Harrington Homestead. Yes, and I'm so glad now. It's come out lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked me to come and live with him. But, of course, I wouldn't leave Aunt Polly like that, after she'd been so good to me. Then he told me all about the woman's hand and heart that he used to want. And I found out that he wanted it now. And I was so glad. For, of course, if he wants to make up the quarrel, everything will be all right now. And Aunt Polly and I will both go to live there, or else he'll come to live with us. Of course Aunt Polly doesn't know yet, and we haven't got everything settled. So I suppose that is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure. The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips. Yes, I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendleton does want to see you, Pollyanna, he nodded, as he pulled his horse to a stop before the door. There's Aunt Polly now in the window, cried Pollyanna. Then a second later. Why, no, she isn't. But I thought I saw her. No, she isn't there. Now, said the doctor. His lips had suddenly lost their smile. Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that afternoon. Pollyanna, he began at once, I've been trying all night to puzzle out what you meant by all that yesterday, about my wanting your Aunt Polly's hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean? Why, because you were lovers, you know, once. And I was so glad you still felt that way now. Lovers? Your Aunt Polly and I?  Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were.  Indeed. Well, I'm afraid I shall have to say that Nancy didn't know. Then you weren't lovers? Pollyanna's voice was tragic with dismay. Never. And it isn't all coming out like a book? There was no answer. The man's eyes were mootily fixed out the window. Oh dear, and it was all going so splendidly almost sob, Pollyanna. I'd have been so glad to come with Aunt Polly. And you won't now? The man asked the question without turning his head. Of course not. I'm Aunt Polly's. The man turned now almost fiercely. Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were your mother's. And it was your mother's hand in heart that I wanted long years ago. My mother's? Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it's better after all that I do now. John Pendleton's face had grown very white. He was speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and frightened, and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. I loved your mother, but she didn't love me. And after a time she went away with your father. I did not know until then how much I did care. The whole world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers and—but never mind. For long years I have been a cross-crabbed, unlovable, unloved old man, though I'm not nearly sixty yet, Pollyanna.  I found out after a time who you were and—and I thought then I never wanted to see you again. I didn't want to be reminded of your mother. But you know how that came out. I just had to have you come. And now I want you always. Pollyanna, won't you come now? But Mr. Pendleton, I—there's Aunt Polly. Pollyanna's eyes were blurred with tears. The man made an impatient gesture. What about me? How do you suppose I'm going to be glad about anything without you? Why, Pollyanna, it's only since you came that I've been even half glad to live. But if I had you for my own little girl, I'd be glad for anything. And I tried to make you glad, too, my dear. You shouldn't have a wish ungratified. All my money to the last cent should go to make you happy. Pollyanna looked shocked. Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me, all that money you've saved for the heathen. A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna was still talking. Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as you have doesn't need me to make you glad about things. You're making other folks so glad, giving them things that you just can't help being glad yourself.  And—yes, yes, never mind about all that, interrupted the man. His face was very, very red now. And no wonder, perhaps, it was not forgiving things that John Pendleton had been best known in the past. That's all nonsense. It wasn't much, anyhow. But what there was was because of you. You gave those things, not I. Yes, you did, he repeated, in answer to the shocked denial in her face. And that only goes to prove all the more how I need you, little girl, he added, his voice softening into tender pleading once more. If ever, ever I am to play the glad game, Pollyanna, you'll have to come and play it with me. The little girl's forehead puckered into a wistful frown. Aunt Polly has been so good to me, she began. But the man interrupted her sharply. The old irritability had come back to his face. Impatience, which would brook no opposition, had been a part of John Pendleton's nature too long to yield very easily now to restraint. Of course she's been good to you. But she doesn't want you. I'll warrant, half so much as I do, he contested. Why, Mr. Pendleton, she's glad. I know to have— Glad interrupted the man, thoroughly losing his patience now. I'll wager Miss Polly doesn't know how to be glad for anything. Oh, she does her duty, I know. She's a very dutiful woman. I've had experience with her duty before. I'll acknowledge we haven't been the best of friends for the past fifteen or twenty years. But I know her. Everyone knows her, and she isn't the glad kind, Pollyanna. She doesn't know how to be. As for your coming to me, you just ask her and see if she won't let you come.  Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh. All right, I'll ask her, she said wistfully.  There was a moment's silence, then she added. Well, anyhow, I'm glad I didn't tell her yesterday, because then I suppose she was wanted, too. John Pendleton smiled grimly. Well, yes, Pollyanna, I guess it is just as well you didn't mention it yesterday. I didn't, only to the doctor, and, of course, he doesn't count. The doctor, cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. Not Dr. Chilton. Yes, when he came to tell me you wanted to see me today, you know. Well, of all the—muttered the man—falling back in his chair. Then he sat up with sudden interest. And what did Dr. Chilton say, he asked? Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. Why, I don't remember, not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well imagine you did want to see me. Oh, did he indeed answer John Pendleton?  End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21 of Pollyanna Mary Anderson Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter 21 A Question Answered The sky was darkening fast, with what appeared to be an approaching thundershower, when Pollyanna hurried down the hill from John Pendleton's house. Halfway home she met Nancy with an umbrella. By that time, however, the clouds had shifted their position, the shower was not so imminent. Guess it's going round-term to the north, announced Nancy, eyeing the sky critically. I thought it was all the time. But Miss Polly wanted me to come with this. She was worried about ye. Was she, murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, eyeing the clouds in her turn? Nancy sniffed a little. You don't seem to notice what I said she observed, aggrievedly. I said, your aunt was worried about ye. Oh, sighed Pollyanna. Remembering suddenly the question she was soon to ask her aunt. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare her. Well, I'm glad, retorted Nancy unexpectedly, I am I am. Pollyanna stared. Glad that Aunt Polly was scared about me. Why, Nancy, that isn't the way to play the game. To be glad for things like that, she objected. There weren't no game in it, retorted Nancy. Never thought of it. You don't seem to sense what it means to have Miss Polly worried about ye, child. Why it means worried, and worried is horrid, to feel, maintained Pollyanna. What else can it mean? Nancy tossed her head. Well, I'll tell you what it means. It means she's at last getting down somewheres near human, like folks. And that she ain't just doing her duty by ye all the time. Why, Nancy, demurred the scandalized Pollyanna. Aunt Polly always does her duty. She's a very dutiful woman. Unconsciously Pollyanna repeated John Pendleton's words of half an hour before. Nancy chuckled. You're right, she is. And she always was, I guess. But she's something more now since you came. Pollyanna's face changed. Her brows drew into a troubled frown. There, that's what I was going to ask you, Nancy, she sighed. Do you think Aunt Polly likes to have me here? Would she mind if I wasn't here any more? Nancy threw a quick look into the little girl's absorbed face. But she had expected to be asked this question long before, and she had dreaded it. She had wondered how she should answer it. How she could answer it, honestly, without cruelly hurting the questioner. But now, now, in the face of the new suspicions that had become convictions by the afternoon's umbrella-sending, Nancy only welcomed the question with open arms. She was sure that, with a clean conscience today, she could set the love-hungry little girl's heart at rest. Likes to have you here? Would she miss you if you wasn't here? cried Nancy indignantly. As if that weren't just what I was telling of you. Didn't she send me post-haste with an umbrella, because she see a little cloud in the sky? Didn't she make me tote your things all downstairs, so you could have the pretty room you wanted? Why miss Pollyanna, when ye remember how at first she hated to have? With a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up just in time. And it ain't just things I can put my finger on, neither, rushed on Nancy breathlessly. It's little ways she has that shows how you've been softening her up and mellering her down. The cat and the dog, and the way she speaks to me, and oh, lots of things. Why miss Pollyanna, there ain't no telling how she'd miss ye if ye weren't here. Finished Nancy, speaking with an enthusiastic certainty that was meant to hide the perilous admission she had almost made before. Even then she was not quite prepared for the sudden joy that illumined Pollyanna's face. Oh, Nancy, I'm so glad, glad, glad. You don't know how glad I am that Aunt Polly wants me. As if I'd leave her now, thought Pollyanna, as she climbed the stairs to her room a little later. I always knew I wanted to live with Aunt Polly, but I reckon maybe I didn't know quite how much I wanted Aunt Polly to want to live with me. The task of telling John Pendleton of her decision would not be an easy one, Pollyanna knew, and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John Pendleton, and she was very sorry for him, because he seemed to be so sorry for himself. She was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that had made him so unhappy, and she was grieved that it had been because of her mother that he had spent those dreary years. She pictured again the great grey house as it would be after its master was well again, with its silent rooms, its littered floors, its disordered desk, and her heart ached for his loneliness. She wished that somewhere, someone might be found who—and it was at this point that she sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy at the thought that had come to her. As soon as she could after that she hurried up the hill to John Pendleton's house, and in due time she found herself in the great dim library, with John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, thin hands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and his faithful little dog at his feet. Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the glad game with me, all the rest of my life, asked the man gently? Oh, yes, cried Pollyanna. I've thought of the very gladdest kind of thing for you to do, and—with you, asked John Pendleton, his mouth growing a little stern at the corners. No, but—Pollyanna, you aren't going to say no, interrupted a voice, deep with emotion. I—I've got to, Mr. Pendleton, truly I have. Aunt Polly, did she refuse to let you come? I—I didn't ask her, stammered the little girl, miserably. Pollyanna.  She could not meet the hurt, grieved gaze of her friend. So you didn't even ask her. I couldn't, sir, truly, faltered Pollyanna. You see, I found out without asking. Aunt Polly wants me with her, and—and I want to stay, too, she confessed bravely. You don't know how good she's been to me, and—and I think, really, sometimes, she's beginning to be glad about things—lots of things.  You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly now. There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke. No, Pollyanna, I see. You couldn't leave her, now, he said. I won't ask you again. The last word was so low it was almost inaudible. But Pollyanna heard. Oh, but you don't know about the rest of it, she reminded him, eagerly. There's the very gladdest thing you can do, truly, there is. Not for me, Pollyanna. Yes, sir, for you. You said it. You said only a—a woman's hand or a child's presence could make a home. And I can get it for you. A child's presence. Not me, you know, but another one. As if I would have any but you, resented an indignant voice. But you will, when you know. You're so kind and good. Why, think of the prisms and the gold pieces and all that money you saved for the heathen and— Pollyanna interrupted the man savagely. Once for all, let us end that nonsense. I've tried to tell you half a dozen times before. There is no money for the heathen. I never sent a penny into them in my life. There. He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he expected, the grieve disappointment of Pollyanna's eyes. To his amazement, however, there was neither grief nor disappointment in Pollyanna's eyes. There was only surprise joy. Oh, oh, she cried, clapping her hands. I'm so glad. That is, she corrected, coloring distressfully. I don't mean that I'm not sorry for the heathen. I can't help being glad that you don't want the little India boys, because all the rest have wanted them. And so I'm glad you'd rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you'll take him. Take who? Jimmy Bean. He's the child's presence, you know, and he'll be so glad to be it. I had to tell him last week that even my lady's aid out west wouldn't take him, and he was so disappointed. But now, when he hears of this, he'll be so glad. Will he? Well, I won't, ejaculated the man decisively. Pollyanna, this is sheer nonsense. You don't mean you won't take him. I certainly do mean just that. But he'd be a lovely child's presence, faltered Pollyanna. She was almost crying now. And you couldn't be lonesome with Jimmy Round. I don't doubt it rejoined the man, but I think I prefer the lonesomeness. It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly remembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin aggrievedly. Maybe you think a nice little live boy wouldn't be better than that old dead skeleton you keep somewhere, but I think it would. Skeleton? Yes. Nancy said you have one in your closet somewhere. Why, what? Suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed. He laughed very heartily, indeed. So heartily that Pollyanna began to cry from pure nervousness. When he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very promptly. His face grew grave at once. Pollyanna, I suspect you were right. More right than you know, he said gently. In fact, I know that a nice live little boy would be far better than my skeleton in the closet. Only we aren't always willing to make the exchange. We are apt to still cling to our skeletons, Pollyanna. However, suppose you tell me a little more about this nice little boy, and Pollyanna told him. Perhaps the laugh cleared the air, or perhaps the pathos of Jimmy Bean's story as told by Pollyanna's eager little lips touched a heart already strangely softened. At all events, when Pollyanna went home that night, she carried with her an invitation for Jimmy Bean himself to call at the Great House with Pollyanna the next Saturday afternoon. And I'm so glad, and I'm sure you'll like him, sighed Pollyanna, as she said good-bye. I do so want Jimmy Bean to have a home, and folks that care. You know. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter 22 Sermons and Wood Boxes On the afternoon that Pollyanna told John Pendleton of Jimmy Bean, the reverend Paul Ford climbed a hill and entered the Pendleton Woods, hoping that the hushed beauty of God's out-of-doors would still the tumult that his children of men had wrought. The reverend Paul Ford was sick at heart. Month by month, for a year past, conditions in the parish under him had been growing worse and worse, until it seemed now, turn which way he would, he encountered only wrangling, backbiting, scandal, and jealousy. He had argued, pleaded, rebuked, and ignored by turns, and always and through all he had prayed earnestly, hopefully. But today, miserably, he was forced to own that matters were no better, but rather worse. Two of his deacons were at sword's points over a silly something that only endless brooding had made of any account. Three of his most energetic women workers had withdrawn from the ladies' aid society because a tiny spark of gossip had been fanned by wagging tongues into a devouring flame of scandal. The choir had split over the amount of solo work given to a fancied preferred singer. Even the Christian Endeavour Society was an affirmant of unrest owing to open criticism of two of its officers. As to the Sunday School, it had been the resignation of its superintendent and two of its teachers that had been the last straw, and that had sent the harassed minister to the quiet woods for prayer and meditation. Under the green arch of the trees, the Reverend Paul Ford faced the thing squarely. To his mind the crisis had come. Something must be done and done at once. The entire work of the church was at a standstill. The Sunday services, the weekday prayer meeting, the missionary tease, even the suppers and socials were becoming less and less well attended. True, a few conscientious workers were still left, but they pulled at cross purposes usually, and always they showed themselves to be acutely aware of the critical eyes all about them, and of the tongues that had nothing to do but to talk about what the eyes saw. And because of all this, the Reverend Paul Ford understood very well that he, God's minister, the church, the town, and even Christianity itself was suffering and must suffer still more unless, clearly, something must be done and done at once. But what? Slowly the minister took from his pocket the notes he had made for his next Sunday sermon. Frowningly he looked at them. His mouth settled into stern lines. As allowed, very impressively, he read the verses on which he had determined to speak.  Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye pay the tithe of mint and anise and cumin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith. These ought ye to have done and not to leave the other undone. It was a bitter denunciation. In the green aisles of the woods the ministers of deep voice rang out with scathing effect. Even the birds and squirrels seemed hushed into odd silence. It brought to the minister a vivid realization of how those words would sound the next Sunday when he should utter them before his people in the sacred hush of the church. His people. They were his people. Could he do it? Dare he do it? Dare he not do it? It was a fearful denunciation, even without the words that would follow, his own words. He had prayed and prayed. He had pleaded earnestly for help, for guidance. He longed, oh how earnestly he longed, to take now, in this crisis the right step. But was this the right step? Slowly the minister folded the papers and thrust them back into his pocket. Then with a sigh that was almost a moan, he flung himself down at the foot of a tree and covered his face with his hands. It was there that Pollyanna, on her way home from the Pendleton House, found him. With a little cry she ran forward. Oh, oh, Mr. Ford! You haven't broken your leg, or anything? Have you? She gasped. The minister dropped his hands and looked up quickly. He tried to smile. No, dear, no indeed. I'm just resting. Oh! sighed Pollyanna, falling back a little. That's all right then. You see, Mr. Pendleton had broken his leg when I found him.  Yes, I am sitting up, and I haven't broken anything that doctors can mend. The last words were very low, but Pollyanna heard them. A swift change crossed her face. Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy. I know what you mean. Something plagues you. Father used to feel like that lots of times. I reckon ministers do, most generally. You see, there's such a lot depends on them, somehow. The Reverend Paul Ford turned a little wonderingly. Was your father a minister, Pollyanna? Yes, sir. Didn't you know? I supposed everybody knew that. He married Aunt Polly's sister, and she was my mother. Oh! I understand. But you see, I haven't been here many years, so I don't know all the family's histories. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, smiled Pollyanna. There was a long pause. The minister, still sitting at the foot of the tree, appeared to have forgotten Pollyanna's presence. He had pulled some papers from his pocket and unfolded them. But he was not looking at them. He was gazing instead at a leaf on the ground, a little distance away. And it was not even a pretty leaf. It was brown and dead. Pollyanna, looking at him, felt vaguely sorry for him. It's—it's a nice day, she began, hopefully. For a moment there was no answer. Then the minister looked up with a start. What? Oh, yes, it is a very nice day. And tisn't cold at all, either. Even if tis October observed Pollyanna, still more, hopefully. Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said he didn't need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at fires, don't you? There was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently before she tried again by a new route. Do you like being a minister? The Reverend Paul Ford looked up now very quickly. Do I like? Why, what an odd question. Why do you ask that, my dear? Nothing, only the way you looked. It made me think of my father. He used to look like that sometimes. Did he? The minister's voice was polite, but his eyes had gone back to the dried leaf on the ground. Yes, and I used to ask him, just as I did you, if he was glad he was a minister. The man under the tree smiled a little sadly. Well, what did he say? Oh, he always said he was, of course, but most always he said, too, that he wouldn't stay a minister a minute if it wasn't for the rejoicing texts. The what? The Reverend Paul Ford's eyes left the leaf and gazed wonderingly into Pollyanna's merry little face. Well, that's what father used to call him, she laughed. Of course the Bible didn't name him that. But it's all those that begin, be glad in the Lord, or rejoice greatly, or shout for joy. And all that, you know, such a lot of them. Once, when father felt specially bad, he counted them. There were eight hundred of them. Eight hundred? Yes, that told you to rejoice and be glad, you know. That's why father named them the rejoicing texts. Oh! There was an odd look on the minister's face. His eyes had fallen to the words on the top paper in his hands. But woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! And so your father liked those rejoicing texts? He murmured. Oh yes, nodded Pollyanna empathetically. He said he felt better right away. That first day he thought to count them. He said if God took the trouble to tell us eight hundred times to be glad and rejoice, he must want us to do it some. And father felt ashamed that he hadn't done it more. After that they got to be such a comfort to him, you know, when things went wrong. When the ladies' aiders got to fight, I mean, when they didn't agree about something corrected Pollyanna hastily. Why it was those texts, too, father said, that made him think of the game. He began with me on the crutches. But he said, twas the rejoicing texts that started him on it. And what game might that be? asked the minister. About finding something in everything to be glad about, you know? As I said, he began with me on the crutches. And once more Pollyanna told her story, this time to a man who listened with tender eyes and understanding ears. A little later Pollyanna and the minister descended the hill hand in hand. Pollyanna's face was radiant. Pollyanna loved to talk, and she had been talking now for some time. There seemed to be so many, many things about the game, her father, and the old home life that the minister wanted to know. At the foot of the hill their ways parted, and Pollyanna down one road and the minister down another walked on alone. In the Reverend Paul Ford's study that evening the minister sat thinking. Near him on the desk lay a few loose sheets of paper. His sermon notes. Under the suspended pencil in his fingers lay other sheets of paper, blank, his sermon to be. But the minister was not thinking either of what he had written or of what he intended to write. In his imagination he was far away in a little western town with a missionary minister who was poor, sick, worried, and almost alone in the world. But who was pouring over the Bible to find out how many times his lord and master had told him to rejoice and be glad. After a time with a long sigh the Reverend Paul Ford roused himself, came back from the far western town, and adjusted the sheets of paper under his hand. Matthew 23, 13, 14, and 23 he wrote. Then with a gesture of impatience he dropped his pencil and pulled toward him a magazine left on the desk by his wife a few minutes before. Listlessly his tired eyes turned from paragraph to paragraph until these words arrested them. A father one day said to his son Tom who he knew had refused to fill his mother's wood box that morning. Tom I'm sure you'll be glad to go and bring in some wood for your mother. And without a word Tom went. Why? Just because his father showed so plainly that he expected him to do the right thing.  Go at once and fill that wood box. I warrant that wood box would be empty yet so far as Tom was concerned. On and on read the minister, a word here, a line there, a paragraph somewhere else. What men and women need is encouragement. Their natural resisting powers should be strengthened, not weakened. Instead of always harping on man's faults, tell him of his virtues. Try to pull him out of his rut of bad habits. Hold up to him his better self, his real self, that can dare and do and win out. The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious and may revolutionize a whole town. People radiate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If a man feels kindly and obliging, his neighbors will feel that way too before long. But if he scolds and scowls and criticizes, his neighbors will return scowl for scowl and add interest. When you look for the bad expecting it, you will get it. When you know you will find the good, you will get that. Tell your son Tom you know he'll be glad to fill that wood box. Then watch him start, alert and interested. The minister dropped the paper and lifted his chin. In a moment he was on his feet, tramping the narrow room back and forth, back and forth. Later, some time later, he drew a long breath and dropped himself in the chair at his desk. God helping me I'll do it, he cried softly. I'll tell all my toms I know they'll be glad to fill that wood box. I'll give them work to do, and I'll make them so full of the very joy of doing it that they won't have time to look at their neighbor's wood boxes.  Thus it happened that Reverend Paul Ford's sermon the next Sunday was a veritable bugle-call to the best that was in every man and woman and child that heard it. And its text was one of Pollyanna's shining eight hundred. Be glad in the Lord and rejoice ye righteous and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart. End of Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three of Pollyanna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter Twenty-Three An Accident At Mrs. Snow's request Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton's office to get the name of a medicine which Mrs. Snow had forgotten. As it chanced Pollyanna had never before seen the inside of Dr. Chilton's office. I've never been to your home before. This is your home, isn't it? she said, looking in interestingly about her. The doctor smiled a little sadly. Yes, such is his, he answered, as he wrote something on the pad of paper in his hand. But it's a pretty poor apology for a home, Pollyanna. They're just rooms, that's all, not a home. Pollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes glowed with sympathetic understanding. I know, it takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence to make a home, she said. A. The doctor wheeled about abruptly. Mr. Pendleton told me, nodded Pollyanna again, about the woman's hand and heart, or the child's presence, you know. Why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe you'd take Jimmy Bean if Mr. Pendleton doesn't want him. Dr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly. So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home, does he? he asked evasively. Yes, he says his is just a house too. Why don't you, Dr. Chilton? Why don't I—what? The doctor had turned back to his desk. Get a woman's hand and heart. Oh, I forgot! Pollyanna's face showed suddenly a painful color. I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn't Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago, and so we—we aren't going there to live. You see, I told you it was, but I made a mistake. I hope you didn't tell anyone, she finished anxiously. No, I didn't tell anyone, Pollyanna replied the doctor, a little queerly. Oh, that's all right then, sighed Pollyanna in relief. You see, you're the only one I told, and I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of funny when I said I'd told you. Did he? The doctor's lips twitched. Yes, and of course he wouldn't want many people to know it, when it wasn't true. But why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? There was a moment's silence, then very gravely the doctor said. There not always to be had for the asking little girl. Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. But I should think you could get him, she argued. The flattering emphasis was unmistakable. Thank you, laughed the doctor, with uplifted eyebrows. Then gravely again. I'm afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite so confident. At least they, they haven't shown themselves to be so obliging, he observed. Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise. Why, Dr. Chilton, you don't mean, you didn't try to get somebody's hand and heart once, like Mr. Pendleton, and, and couldn't, did you? The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly. There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now.  Suppose you run back now to Mrs. Snow. I've written down the name of the medicine, and the directions how she is to take it. Was there anything else? Pollyanna shook her head. No, sir. Thank you, sir, she murmured soberly, as she turned toward the door. From the little hallway she called back, her face suddenly alight. Anyhow, I'm glad it wasn't my mother's hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get, Dr. Chilton. Goodbye. It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, hurring home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor-car. Just what happened no one could seem to tell afterward. Neither was there anyone found who could tell why it happened or who was to blame that it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o'clock, was born limp and unconscious into the little room that was so dear to her. There, by a white-faced aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy, she was undressed tenderly and put to bed. While from the village hastily summoned by telephone, Dr. Warren was hurring as fast as another motor-car could bring him. And you didn't need to mourn look at her aunt's face, Nancy was sobbing to old Tom in the garden, after the doctor had arrived and was closeted in the hushed room. You didn't need to mourn look at her aunt's face, to see that twaint no duty that was eating her. Your hands don't shake and your eyes don't look as if he was trying to hold back the angel of death himself. When you're just doing your duty, Mr. Tom, they don't, they don't. Is she hurt bad? the old man's voice shook. There ain't no tellin', sobbed Nancy. She lay back that white and still she might easy be dead. But Miss Polly said she weren't dead, and Miss Polly ought her know, if anyone would. She kept up such a listenin' and a feelin' for her heartbeats and her breath. Couldn't you tell anything what it done to her? That, that, old Tom's face worked convulsively. Nancy's lips relaxed a little. I wish you would call it something, Mr. Tom, and something good and strong too, drat it, to think of it's running down our little girl. I always hated the evil smellin' things, anyhow I did I did. But where is she hurt? I don't know, I don't know, moans Nancy. There's a little cut on her blessed head, but taint bad. That ain't, Miss Polly says. She says she's afraid it's infernally she's hurt. A faint flicker came into old Tom's eyes. I guess you mean internally Nancy, he said dryly. She's hurt infernally all right. Plague take that automobile. But I don't guess Miss Polly'd be usin' that word all the same. Eh, well I don't know, I don't know, moan Nancy, with a shake of her head as she turned away. Seems as if I just couldn't stand it till that doctor gets out of there. I wish I had a washin' to do, the biggest washing I ever see. I do, I do, she wailed, wringin' her hands helplessly. Even after the doctor was gone, however. There seemed to be little that Nancy could tell, Mr. Tom. There appeared to be no bones broken, and the cut was a slight consequence. But the doctor had looked very grave, had shaken his head slowly, and had said that time alone could tell. After he had gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and more drawn looking than before. The patient had not fully recovered consciousness, but at present she seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be expected. A trained nurse had been sent for, and would come that night. That was all. And Nancy turned sobbingly and went back to her kitchen. It was some time during the forenoon that Pollyanna opened conscious eyes and realized where she was. Why, Aunt Polly, what's the matter? Isn't it daytime? Why don't I get up, she cried. Why, Aunt Polly, I can't get up, she moaned, falling back in the pillow after an ineffectual attempt to lift herself. No, dear, I wouldn't try just yet, soothed her aunt quickly, but very quietly. But what is the matter? Why can't I get up? Miss Polly's eyes asked an agonized question of the white-capped young woman standing in the window out of the range of Pollyanna's eyes. The young woman nodded. Tell her, the lips said. Miss Polly cleared her throat and tried to swallow the lump that would scarcely let her speak.  Hurt? Oh yes, I ran. Pollyanna's eyes were dazed. She lifted her hand to her forehead. Why, it's done up, and it hurts. Yes, dear, but never mind, just rest. But Aunt Polly, I feel so funny and so bad. My legs feel so queer, only they don't feel at all. With an imploring look into the nurse's face, Miss Polly struggled to her feet and turned away. The nurse came forward quickly.  I'm sure I think it's high time we were getting acquainted, and I'm going to introduce myself. I am Miss Hunt, and I've come to help your aunt take care of you. And the very first thing I'm going to do is to ask you to swallow these little white pills for me. Pollyanna's eyes grew a bit wild. But I don't want to be taken care of. That is, not for long. I want to get up. You know I go to school. Can't I go to school tomorrow? From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a half stifled cry. Tomorrow smiled the nurse brightly. Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills for me, please, and we'll see what they'll do. All right, agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully. But I must go to school day after tomorrow. There are examinations, then, you know. She spoke again a minute later. She spoke of school and of the automobile and of how her head ached. But very soon her voice trailed into silence under the blessed influence of the little white pills she had swallowed. End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of Pollyanna This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 24 John Pendleton Pollyanna did not go to school tomorrow nor the day after tomorrow. Pollyanna, however, did not realize this except momentarily when a brief period of full consciousness sent insistent questions to her lips. Pollyanna did not realize anything, in fact, very clearly until a week had passed. Then the fever subsided, the pain lessened somewhat, and her mind awoke to full consciousness. She had then to be told all over again what had occurred. And so it's hurt that I am, and not sick, she sighed at last. Well, I'm glad of that. G'glad, Pollyanna, asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed. Yes, I'd so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton's than lifelong invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and lifelong invalids don't. Miss Polly, who had said nothing whatever about broken legs, got suddenly to her feet and walked to the little dressing table across the room. She was picking up one object after another now, and putting each down, in an aimless fashion quite unlike her usual decisiveness. Her face was not aimless looking at all, however, it was white and drawn. On the bed Pollyanna lay blinking at the dancing band of colors on the ceiling, which came from one of the prisms in the window. I'm glad it isn't smallpox that ails me too, she murmured contentedly. That would be worse than freckles. And I'm glad it isn't whooping cough, I've had that, and it's horrid. And I'm glad it isn't appendicitis, nor measles, because they're catching measles are. I mean, and they wouldn't let you stay here. You seem to be glad for a good many things, my dear, faltered Aunt Polly, putting her hand to her throat as if her collar bound. Pollyanna laughed softly. I am. I've been thinking of them, lots of them, all the time I've been looking up at that rainbow. I love rainbows. I'm so glad Mr. Pendleton gave me those prisms. I'm glad of some things I haven't said yet. And I don't know, but I'm most glad I was hurt. Pollyanna! Pollyanna laughed softly again.   I love to be called dear by folks that belong to you, I mean. Some of the ladies' aiders did call me that, and of course that was pretty nice, but not so nice as if they had belonged to me like you do. Oh, Aunt Polly, I'm so glad you belonged to me. Aunt Polly did not answer. Her hand was at her throat again.  She had turned away and was hurrying from the room through the door by which the nurse had just entered. It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to old Tom, who was cleaning harnesses in the barn. Her eyes were wild. Mr. Tom! Mr. Tom, guess what's happened, she panted. You couldn't guess in a thousand years. You couldn't, you couldn't. Then I, Cal 8, I won't try, retorted the man grimly. Especially as I hate got more intend to live, anyhow, probably. You'd better tell me first off, Nancy. Well, listen then. Who do you suppose is in the parlor now with the mistress? Who I say? Old Tom shook his head. There's no tellin', he declared. Yes, there is. I'm tellin'. It's John Pendleton. Show now, you're joking, girl. Not much I am, and me lettin' him in myself crutches in all. And the team he came in awaitin' this minute at the door for him. Just as if he won't the cranky old cross-patch he is, what never talks to no one. Just think, Mr. Tom, him a callin' on her. Well, why not, demanded the old man a little aggressively. Nancy gave him a scornful glance, as if you didn't know better in me, she'd write it. A. Oh, you needn't be so innocent, she retorted, with mock indignation. You what led me wild goose-chasin' in the first place. What do you mean? Nancy glanced through the open barn door toward the house, and came a step nearer to the old man. Listen, it was you that was tellin' me Miss Polly had a lover in the first place. Wasn't it? Well, one day I thinks I finds two and two, and I put some together and makes four. But it turns out to be five, and no four at all, at all. With a gesture of indifference old Tom turned and fell to work. If you're going to talk to me, you've got to talk plain horse sense, he declared, testily. I never was no hand for figures. Nancy laughed. Well, it's this, she explained. I heard something that made me think him and Miss Polly was lovers. Mr. Pendleton? Old Tom straightened up. Yes. Oh, I know now he wasn't. It was that blessed child's mother he was in love with. And that's why he wanted. But never mind that part, she added hastily, remembering just in time her promise to Polly Anna not to tell that Mr. Pendleton had wished her to come and live with him.  Yes, I remember not it, old Tom. It was three or four years after Miss Jenny give him the mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss Polly knew about it, of course, and was sorry for him, so she tried to be nice to him. Maybe she overdid it a little. She hated that minister chap so who had took off her sister. At any rate, somebody began to make trouble. They said she was runnin' after him. Runnin' after any man, her, interjected Nancy. I know it, but they did, declared old Tom. And, of course, no gal of any spunk will stand that. Then, about that time, come her own lover and the trouble with him.  Her heart jeezed same to turn bitter at the core. Yes, I know, I've heard about that now, rejoined Nancy, and that's why you could've knocked me down with a feather when I see him at the door, him what she ain't spoken to for years, but I let him in and went and told her. What did she say, old Tom held his breath suspended? Nothing at first. She was so still I thought she hadn't heard, and I was just going to say it over when she speaks up quiet like, tell Mr. Pendleton I will be down at once.  Hmph! grunted old Tom, and fell to work again. In the ceremonious parlor of the Harrington Homestead, Mr. John Pendleton did not have to wait long before a swift step warned him of Miss Polly's coming. As he attempted to rise she made a gesture of her monstrance. She did not offer her hand, however, and her face was coldly reserved. I called to ask for Pollyanna, he began at once, a little brusquely. Thank you, she is about the same, said Miss Polly. And that is, won't you tell me how she is? His voice was not quite steady this time. A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman's face. I can't, I wish I could. You mean you don't know? Yes, but the doctor. Dr. Warren himself seems at sea. He is in correspondence now with a New York specialist. They have arranged for a consultation at once. But, but what were her injuries that you do know? A slight cut on the head, one or two bruises, and, and an injury to the spine, which has seemed to cause paralysis from the hips down. A low cry came from the man. There was a brief silence, then huskily he asked. And Pollyanna, how does she take it? She doesn't understand at all how things really are, and I can't tell her. But she must know something. Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the gesture that had become so common to her of late. Oh yes, she knows she can't move, but she thinks her legs are broken. She says she's glad it's broken legs like yours rather than lifelong invalids like Mrs. Snow's, because broken legs get well and the other doesn't. She talks like that all the time, until it—it seems as if I should die. Through the blur of tears in his own eyes the man saw the drawn face opposite, twisted with emotion. Involuntarily his thoughts went back to what Pollyanna had said, when he had made his final plea for her presence. Oh, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly now. It was this thought that made him ask very gently as soon as he could control his voice. I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get Pollyanna to come and live with me. With you? Pollyanna? The man winced a little at the tone of her voice, but his own voice was still impersonally cool when he spoke again. Yes, I wanted to adopt her legally, you understand, making her my heir, of course. The woman in the opposite chair relaxed a little. It came to her suddenly what a brilliant future it would have meant for Pollyanna, this adoption. And she wondered if Pollyanna were old enough and mercenary enough to be tempted by this man's money and position. I am very fond of Pollyanna, the man was continuing. I am fond of her both for her own sake and for her mother's. I stood ready to give Pollyanna the love that had been twenty-five years in storage. Love? Miss Polly remembered suddenly why she had taken this child in the first place, and with the recollection came the remembrance of Pollyanna's own words uttered that very morning. I love to be called dear by folks that belong to you. And it was this love-hungry little girl that had been offered the stored up affection of twenty-five years, and she was old enough to be tempted by love. With a sinking heart Miss Polly realized that. With a sinking heart too she realized something else, the dreariness of her own future now without Pollyanna. Well, she said. And the man recognizing the self-control that vibrated through the harshness of the tone smiled sadly. She would not come, he answered. Why? She would not leave you. She said you had been so good to her she wanted to stay with you. And she said she thought you wanted her to stay, he finished, as he pulled himself to his feet. He did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned his face resolutely toward the door. But instantly he heard a swift step at his side and found a shaking hand thrust toward him. When the specialist comes and I know anything definite about Pollyanna I will let you hear from me. Set a trembling voice. Goodbye and thank you for coming. Pollyanna will be pleased. Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter Chapter 25 A Waiting Game On the day after John Pendleton's call at the Harrington homestead Miss Polly set herself to the task of preparing Pollyanna for the visit of the specialist. Pollyanna, my dear, she began gently. We have decided that we want another doctor besides Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us something new to do to help you get well faster, you know. A joyous light came to Pollyanna's face. Dr. Chilton! Oh, Aunt Polly, I'd so love to have Dr. Chilton. I've wanted him all the time, but I was afraid you didn't, on account of his seeing you in the sun parlor that day, you know. So I didn't like to say anything, but I'm so glad you do want him. Aunt Polly's face had turned white, then red, then back to white again. But when she answered she showed very plainly that she was trying to speak lightly and cheerfully. Oh, no, dear, it wasn't Dr. Chilton at all that I meant. It is a new doctor, a very famous doctor from New York, who knows a great deal about hurts like yours. Pollyanna's face fell. I don't believe he knows half so much as Dr. Chilton. Oh, yes he does, I'm sure, dear. But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pendleton's broken leg, Aunt Polly, if—if you don't mind very much, I would like to have Dr. Chilton, truly I would. A distressed color suffused Miss Polly's face. For a moment she did not speak at all. Then she said gently, though yet with a touch for old stern decisiveness, But I do mind, Pollyanna, I mind very much. I would do anything, almost anything for you, my dear, but I, for reasons which I do not care to speak of now, I don't wish Dr. Chilton called in on—on this case. And believe me, he cannot know so much about—about your trouble, as this great doctor does, who will come from New York to-morrow. Pollyanna still looked unconvinced. But Aunt Polly, if you loved Dr. Chilton— What, Pollyanna? Aunt Polly's voice was very sharp now, her cheeks were very red, too. I say, if you loved Dr. Chilton and didn't love the other one, beside Pollyanna, seems to me that would make some difference in the good he would do. And I love Dr. Chilton. The nurse entered the room at that moment, and Aunt Polly rose to her feet abruptly, a look of relief on her face. I am very sorry, Pollyanna, she said, a little stiffly, but I'm afraid you'll have to let me be the judge this time. Besides, it's already arranged. The New York doctor is coming to-morrow. As it happened, however, the New York doctor did not come to-morrow. At the last moment a telegram told of an unavoidable delay, owing to the sudden illness of the specialist himself. This led Pollyanna into a renewed pleading for the substitution of Dr. Chilton, which would be so easy now, you know. But as before Aunt Polly shook her head and said, No, dear, very decisively, yet with a still more anxious assurance that she would do anything, anything but that to please her dear Pollyanna. As the days of waiting passed, one by one, it did indeed seem that Aunt Polly was doing everything but that that she could do to please her niece. I wouldn't have believed it. You couldn't have made me believe it, Nancy said to old Tom one morning. There don't seem to be a minute in the day that Miss Polly ain't just hanging round waiting to do something for that blessed lamb. If taint more, then to let in the cat, and her what wouldn't let fluff nor buff upstairs for love nor money a week ago, and now she let's them tumble all over the bed just because it pleases Miss Pollyanna. And when she ain't doing nothing else, she's moving them little glass danglers round to different windows in the room so the sun'll make the rainbows dance, as that blessed child calls it. She sent Timothy down to Cobb's greenhouse three times for fresh flowers, and that besides all the posies fetched in to her too. And the other day if I didn't find her sitting for the bed with the nurse doing her hair, and Miss Pollyanna looking on and bossing from the bed, her eyes all shining and happy, and I declared to goodness if Miss Polly ain't worn her hair like that every day now just to please that blessed child. Old Tom chuckled. Well it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain't looking none the worse for wearing them air curls round her forehead he observed dryly. Course she ain't, retorted Nancy indignantly. She looks like folks now. She's actually almost. Careful now, Nancy, interrupted the old man with a slow grin. You know what you said when I told you she was handsome once. Nancy shrugged her shoulders. Oh, she ain't handsome, of course. But I will own up. She don't look like the same woman. What with the ribbons and lace jiggers Miss Pollyanna makes her wear round her neck? I told you so, nodded the man. I told you she weren't old. Nancy laughed. Well I'll own up. She ain't got quite so good an imitation of it as she did have. Four Miss Pollyanna come. Say, Mr. Tom, who was her a lover? I ain't found that out yet. I ain't, I ain't. Ain't ye, asked the old man with an odd look on his face? Well, I guess you won't, then, from me. Oh, Mr. Tom, come on now, weadled the girl. You see, there ain't many folks here that I can ask. Maybe not, but there's one anyhow that ain't answering, grinned old Tom. Then abruptly the light died from his eyes. How is she, today, the little gal? Nancy shook her head. Her face, too, had sobered. Just the same, Mr. Tom. There ain't no special difference, as I can see, or anybody, I guess. She just lays there and sleeps and talks some, and tries to smile and be glad, because the sun sets or the moon rises, or some other such thing, till it's enough to make your heart break with aching. I know, it's the game, bless her, sweetheart, not it, old Tom, blinkin' a little. She told you, then, too, about that ear-game? Oh, yes, she told me long ago. The old man hesitated, then went on. His lips twitching a little. I was growlin' one day, because I was so bent up and crooked, and what do you suppose the little thing said? I couldn't guess. I wouldn't think she could find anything about that to be glad about. She did. She said I could be glad, anyhow, that I didn't have to stoop so far to do my weedin', because I was already bent partway over. Nancy gave a wistful laugh. Well, I ain't surprised after all. You might know she'd find somethin'. We've been playin' it, that game, since almost the first, because there weren't no one else she could play it with, though she did speak of her aunt. Miss Polly? Nancy chuckled. I guess you ain't got such an awful different opinion of the mistress than I have, she bridled. Old Tom stiffened. I was only thinkin'. Twidby, some of a surprise to her, he explained with dignity. Well, yes, I guess Twidby, then, retorted Nancy. It ain't sayin' what Twidby now. I'd believe anything of the mistress now, even that she'd take to playin' it herself. But Hank the little gal told her ever? She's told everyone else, I guess. I'm hearing of it everywhere now since she was hurted, said Tom. Well, she didn't tell Miss Polly, rejoin' Nancy. Miss Polly Anna told me long ago that she couldn't tell her. Because her aunt didn't like to have her talk about her father, and was her father's game, and she'd have to talk about him if she did tell it, so she never told her. Oh, I see, I see. The old man nodded his head slowly. They was always bitter against the minister chap, all of them, because he took Miss Jenny away from them. And Miss Polly, young as she was, couldn't ever forgive him. She was that fond of Miss Jenny in them days. I see, I see. It was a bad mess, he sighed, as he turned away. Yes, it was all round, all round, sighed Nancy in return, as she went back to her kitchen. For no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look cheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was openly nervous and impatient. Miss Polly said little, but even the softening waves of hair about her face and the becoming laces at her throat could not hide the fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Polly Anna, Polly Anna petted the dog, smoothed the cat's sleek head, admired the flowers and ate the fruits and jellies that were sent into her, and returned innumerable, cheery answers to the many messages of love and inquiry that were brought to her bedside. But she too grew pale and thin, and the nervous activity of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the pitiful motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs, now lying so woefully quiet under the blankets. As to the game Polly Anna told Nancy these days how glad she was going to be when she could go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to call on Mr. Pendleton, and go to ride with Dr. Chilton. Nor did she seem to realize that all this gladness was in the future, not the present. Nancy however did realize it and cry about it when she was alone. End of Chapter 25