Pollyanna | Page 8

father's gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of us,
you know. He said I must be glad. But it's been pretty hard to--to do it,
even in red gingham, because I--I wanted him, so; and I couldn't help
feeling I OUGHT to have him, specially as mother and the rest have
God and all the angels, while I didn't have anybody but the Ladies' Aid.
But now I'm sure it'll be easier because I've got you, Aunt Polly. I'm so
glad I've got you!"
Nancy's aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her
turned suddenly into shocked terror.

"Oh, but--but you've made an awful mistake, d-dear," she faltered. "I'm
only Nancy. I ain't your Aunt Polly, at all!"
"You--you AREN'T? stammered the little girl, in plain dismay.
"No. I'm only Nancy. I never thought of your takin' me for her. We--we
ain't a bit alike we ain't, we ain't!"
Timothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too disturbed to answer the
merry flash from his eyes.
"But who ARE you?" questioned Pollyanna. "You don't look a bit like
a Ladies' Aider!"
Timothy laughed outright this time.
"I'm Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washin' an' hard
ironin'. Mis' Durgin does that."
"But there IS an Aunt Polly?" demanded the child, anxiously.
"You bet your life there is," cut in Timothy.
Pollyanna relaxed visibly.
"Oh, that's all right, then." There was a moment's silence, then she went
on brightly: "And do you know? I'm glad, after all, that she didn't come
to meet me; because now I've got HER still coming, and I've got you
besides."
Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a quizzical smile.
"I call that a pretty slick compliment," he said. "Why don't you thank
the little lady?"
"I--I was thinkin' about--Miss Polly," faltered Nancy.
Pollyanna sighed contentedly.

"I was, too. I'm so interested in her. You know she's all the aunt I've got,
and I didn't know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. He
said she lived in a lovely great big house 'way on top of a hill."
"She does. You can see it now," said Nancy.
It's that big white one with the green blinds, 'way ahead."
"Oh, how pretty!--and what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I never
saw such a lot of green grass, seems so, all at once. Is my Aunt Polly
rich, Nancy?"
"Yes, Miss."
"I'm so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. I never
knew any one that did have, only the Whites--they're some rich. They
have carpets in every room and ice-cream Sundays. Does Aunt Polly
have ice-cream Sundays?"
Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She threw a merry look into
Timothy's eyes.
"No, Miss. Your aunt don't like ice-cream, I guess; leastways I never
saw it on her table."
Pollyanna's face fell.
"Oh, doesn't she? I'm so sorry! I don't see how she can help liking
ice-cream. But--anyhow, I can be kinder glad about that, 'cause the
ice-cream you don't eat can't make your stomach ache like Mrs. White's
did--that is, I ate hers, you know, lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got
the carpets, though."
"Yes, she's got the carpets."
"In every room?"
"Well, in almost every room," answered Nancy, frowning suddenly at
the thought of that bare little attic room where there was no carpet.

"Oh, I'm so glad," exulted Pollyanna. "I love carpets. We didn't have
any, only two little rugs that came in a missionary barrel, and one of
those had ink spots on it. Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly
beautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some
lambs and a lion--not together, you know--the lambs and the lion. Oh,
of course the Bible says they will sometime, but they haven't yet--that
is, I mean Mrs. White's haven't. Don't you just love pictures?"
"I--I don't know," answered Nancy in a half-stifled voice.
"I do. We didn't have any pictures. They don't come in the barrels much,
you know. There did two come once, though. But one was so good
father sold it to get money to buy me some shoes with; and the other
was so bad it fell to pieces just as soon as we hung it up. Glass--it broke,
you know. And I cried. But I'm glad now we didn't have any of those
nice things, 'cause I shall like Aunt Polly's all the better--not being used
to 'em, you see. Just as it is when the PRETTY hair-ribbons come in the
barrels after a lot of faded-out brown ones. My! but isn't this a perfectly
beautiful house?" she broke off fervently, as they turned into the wide
driveway.
It was when Timothy was