Pollyanna Grows Up | Page 6

wished I
could prescribe her and buy her as I would a box of pills; and Charlie
Ames says they always made it a point at the Sanatorium to give their
patients a dose of Pollyanna as soon as possible after their arrival,
during the whole year she was there."
"'Dose,' indeed!" scorned Mrs. Chilton.
"Then--you don't think you'll let her go?"
"Go? Why, of course not! Do you think I'd let that child go to perfect
strangers like that?--and such strangers! Why, Thomas, I should expect
that that nurse would have her all bottled and labeled with full
directions on the outside how to take her, by the time I'd got back from
Germany."
Again the doctor threw back his head and laughed heartily, but only for
a moment. His face changed perceptibly as he reached into his pocket
for a letter.
"I heard from Dr. Ames myself, this morning," he said, with an odd
something in his voice that brought a puzzled frown to his wife's brow.
"Suppose I read you my letter now."
"Dear Tom," he began. "Miss Della Wetherby has asked me to give her
and her sister a 'character,' which I am very glad to do. I have known
the Wetherby girls from babyhood. They come from a fine old family,
and are thoroughbred gentlewomen. You need not fear on that score.
"There were three sisters, Doris, Ruth, and Della. Doris married a man
named John Kent, much against the family's wishes. Kent came from
good stock, but was not much himself, I guess, and was certainly a very
eccentric, disagreeable man to deal with. He was bitterly angry at the
Wetherbys' attitude toward him, and there was little communication
between the families until the baby came. The Wetherbys worshiped
the little boy, James--'Jamie,' as they called him. Doris, the mother,

died when the boy was four years old, and the Wetherbys were making
every effort to get the father to give the child entirely up to them, when
suddenly Kent disappeared, taking the boy with him. He has never been
heard from since, though a world-wide search has been made.
"The loss practically killed old Mr. and Mrs. Wetherby. They both died
soon after. Ruth was already married and widowed. Her husband was a
man named Carew, very wealthy, and much older than herself. He lived
but a year or so after marriage, and left her with a young son who also
died within a year.
"From the time little Jamie disappeared, Ruth and Della seemed to have
but one object in life, and that was to find him. They have spent money
like water, and have all but moved heaven and earth; but without avail.
In time Della took up nursing. She is doing splendid work, and has
become the cheerful, efficient, sane woman that she was meant to
be--though still never forgetting her lost nephew, and never leaving
unfollowed any possible clew that might lead to his discovery.
"But with Mrs. Carew it is quite different. After losing her own boy,
she seemed to concentrate all her thwarted mother-love on her sister's
son. As you can imagine, she was frantic when he disappeared. That
was eight years ago--for her, eight long years of misery, gloom, and
bitterness. Everything that money can buy, of course, is at her
command; but nothing pleases her, nothing interests her. Della feels
that the time has come when she must be gotten out of herself, at all
hazards; and Della believes that your wife's sunny little niece,
Pollyanna, possesses the magic key that will unlock the door to a new
existence for her. Such being the case, I hope you will see your way
clear to granting her request. And may I add that I, too, personally,
would appreciate the favor; for Ruth Carew and her sister are very old,
dear friends of my wife and myself; and what touches them touches us.
As ever yours, CHARLIE."
The letter finished, there was a long silence, so long a silence that the
doctor uttered a quiet, "Well, Polly?"
Still there was silence. The doctor, watching his wife's face closely,

saw that the usually firm lips and chin were trembling. He waited then
quietly until his wife spoke.
"How soon--do you think--they'll expect her?" she asked at last.
In spite of himself Dr. Chilton gave a slight start.
"You--mean--that you WILL let her go?" he cried.
His wife turned indignantly.
"Why, Thomas Chilton, what a question! Do you suppose, after a letter
like that, I could do anything BUT let her go? Besides, didn't Dr. Ames
HIMSELF ask us to? Do you think, after what that man has done for
Pollyanna, that I'd refuse him ANYTHING--no matter what it was?"
"Dear, dear! I hope, now, that the doctor won't take it