Pollyanna | Page 6

family he has served and loved for long
years.
"But it don't seem possible--her and a lover," still maintained Nancy.
Old Tom shook his head.
"You didn't know Miss Polly as I did," he argued. "She used ter be real
handsome--and she would be now, if she'd let herself be."
"Handsome! Miss Polly!"
"Yes. If she'd just let that tight hair of hern all out loose and
careless-like, as it used ter be, and wear the sort of bunnits with posies
in 'em, and the kind o' dresses all lace and white things--you'd see she'd
be handsome! Miss Polly ain't old, Nancy."

"Ain't she, though? Well, then she's got an awfully good imitation of
it--she has, she has!" sniffed Nancy.
"Yes, I know. It begun then--at the time of the trouble with her lover,"
nodded Old Tom; "and it seems as if she'd been feedin' on wormwood
an' thistles ever since--she's that bitter an' prickly ter deal with."
"I should say she was," declared Nancy, indignantly. "There's no
pleasin' her, nohow, no matter how you try! I wouldn't stay if 'twa'n't
for the wages and the folks at home what's needin' 'em. But some
day--some day I shall jest b'ile over; and when I do, of course it'll be
good-by Nancy for me. It will, it will."
Old Tom shook his head.
"I know. I've felt it. It's nart'ral--but 'tain't best, child; 'tain't best. Take
my word for it, 'tain't best." And again he bent his old head to the work
before him.
"Nancy!" called a sharp voice.
"Y-yes, ma'am," stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.
CHAPTER III.
THE COMING OF POLLYANNA
In due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive
in Beldingsville the next day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o'clock.
Miss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the
attic room. She still frowned as she looked about her.
The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed
chairs, a washstand, a bureau--without any mirror--and a small table.
There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on
the wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the
little room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the
windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of

them now, up and down, up and down, trying to get out.
Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window (raising the sash
an inch for the purpose), straightened a chair, frowned again, and left
the room.
"Nancy," she said a few minutes later, at the kitchen door, "I found a
fly up-stairs in Miss Pollyanna's room. The window must have been
raised at some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall
expect you to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive
to-morrow at four o'clock. I desire you to meet her at the station.
Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram
says 'light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.' That is all I
know, but I think it is sufficient for your purpose."
"Yes, ma'am; but--you--"
Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said
crisply:
"No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is all."
And she turned away--Miss Polly's arrangements for the comfort of her
niece, Pollyanna, were complete.
In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a vicious dig across the
dish-towel she was ironing.
" 'Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat'--all she knows,
indeed! Well, I'd be ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would--and
her my onliest niece what was a-comin' from 'way across the
continent!"
Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and
Nancy drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest.
Timothy was Old Tom's son. It was sometimes said in the town that if
Old Tom was Miss Polly's right-hand man, Timothy was her left.
Timothy was a good-natured youth, and a good-looking one, as well.

Short as had been Nancy's stay at the house, the two were already good
friends. To-day, however, Nancy was too full of her mission to be her
usual talkative self; and almost in silence she took the drive to the
station and alighted to wait for the train.
Over and over in her mind she was saying it "light hair, red-checked
dress, straw hat." Over and over again she was wondering just what sort
of child this Pollyanna was, anyway.
"I hope for her sake she's quiet and sensible, and don't drop knives nor
bang doors," she sighed to Timothy, who had sauntered up to her.
"Well, if she ain't,