Pollyanna Grows Up | Page 3

whimper from her lips through the whole ordeal, though I knew I was
hurting her cruelly.
"I fancy I must have said something that showed my surprise, for she
explained earnestly: 'Oh, yes, I used to feel that way, too, and I did
dread it so, till I happened to think 'twas just like Nancy's wash-days,
and I could be gladdest of all on TUESDAYS, 'cause there wouldn't be
another one for a whole week.'"

"Why, how extraordinary!" frowned Mrs. Carew, not quite
comprehending. "But, I'm sure I don't see any GAME to that."
"No, I didn't, till later. Then she told me. It seems she was the
motherless daughter of a poor minister in the West, and was brought up
by the Ladies' Aid Society and missionary barrels. When she was a tiny
girl she wanted a doll, and confidently expected it in the next barrel;
but there turned out to be nothing but a pair of little crutches.
"The child cried, of course, and it was then that her father taught her the
game of hunting for something to be glad about, in everything that
happened; and he said she could begin right then by being glad she
didn't NEED the crutches. That was the beginning. Pollyanna said it
was a lovely game, and she'd been playing it ever since; and that the
harder it was to find the glad part, the more fun it was, only when it
was too AWFUL hard, like she had found it sometimes."
"Why, how extraordinary!" murmured Mrs. Carew, still not entirely
comprehending.
"You'd think so--if you could see the results of that game in the
Sanatorium," nodded Della; "and Dr. Ames says he hears she's
revolutionized the whole town where she came from, just the same way.
He knows Dr. Chilton very well--the man that married Pollyanna's aunt.
And, by the way, I believe that marriage was one of her ministrations.
She patched up an old lovers' quarrel between them.
"You see, two years ago, or more, Pollyanna's father died, and the little
girl was sent East to this aunt. In October she was hurt by an
automobile, and was told she could never walk again. In April Dr.
Chilton sent her to the Sanatorium, and she was there till last
March--almost a year. She went home practically cured. You should
have seen the child! There was just one cloud to mar her happiness: that
she couldn't WALK all the way there. As near as I can gather, the
whole town turned out to meet her with brass bands and banners.
"But you can't TELL about Pollyanna. One has to SEE her. And that's
why I say I wish you could have a dose of Pollyanna. It would do you a

world of good."
Mrs. Carew lifted her chin a little.
"Really, indeed, I must say I beg to differ with you," she returned
coldly. "I don't care to be 'revolutionized,' and I have no lovers' quarrel
to be patched up; and if there is ANYTHING that would be
insufferable to me, it would be a little Miss Prim with a long face
preaching to me how much I had to be thankful for. I never could
bear--" But a ringing laugh interrupted her.
"Oh, Ruth, Ruth," choked her sister, gleefully. "Miss Prim,
indeed--POLLYANNA! Oh, oh, if only you could see that child now!
But there, I might have known. I SAID one couldn't TELL about
Pollyanna. And of course you won't be apt to see her. But--Miss Prim,
indeed!" And off she went into another gale of laughter. Almost at once,
however, she sobered and gazed at her sister with the old troubled look
in her eyes.
"Seriously, dear, can't anything be done?" she pleaded. "You ought not
to waste your life like this. Won't you try to get out a little more,
and--meet people?"
"Why should I, when I don't want to? I'm tired of--people. You know
society always bored me."
"Then why not try some sort of work--charity?"
Mrs. Carew gave an impatient gesture.
"Della, dear, we've been all over this before. I do give money--lots of it,
and that's enough. In fact, I'm not sure but it's too much. I don't believe
in pauperizing people."
"But if you'd give a little of yourself, dear," ventured Della, gently. "If
you could only get interested in something outside of your own life, it
would help so much; and--"

"Now, Della, dear," interrupted the elder sister, restively, "I love you,
and I love to have you come here; but I simply cannot endure being
preached to. It's all very well for you to turn yourself into an angel of
mercy and give cups of cold water, and bandage up broken heads, and
all that. Perhaps YOU can forget Jamie that way; but I