Me! pretty! scoffed the woman, bitterly.
Why, yes. Didnt you know it? cried Pollyanna.
Well, no, I didnt, retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived forty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were.
Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your hairs all dark, too, and curly, cooed Pollyanna. I love black curls. (Thats one of the things Im going to have when I get to Heaven.) And youve got two little red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. Snow, you ARE pretty! I should think youd know it when you looked at yourself in the glass.
The glass! snapped the sick woman, falling back on her pillow. Yes, well, I haint done much prinkin before the mirror these days-and you wouldnt, if you was flat on your back as I am!
Why, no, of course not, agreed Pollyanna, sympathetically. But wait-just let me show you, she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau and picking up a small hand-glass.
On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing the sick woman with a critical gaze.
I reckon maybe, if you dont mind, Id like to fix your hair just a little before I let you see it, she proposed. May I fix your hair, please?
Why, I-suppose so, if you want to, permitted Mrs. Snow, grudgingly; but twont stay, you know.
Oh, thank you. I love to fix peoples hair, exulted Pollyanna, carefully laying down the hand-glass and reaching for a comb. I shant do much today, of course-Im in such a hurry for you to see how pretty you are; but some day Im going to take it all down and have a perfectly lovely time with it, she cried, touching with soft fingers the waving hair above the sick womans forehead.
For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory curl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or shaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better pose. Meanwhile the sick woman, frowning prodigiously, and openly scoffing at the whole procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning to tingle with a feeling perilously near to excitement.
There! panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a pink from a vase near by and tucking it into the dark hair where it would give the best effect. Now I reckon were ready to be looked at! And she held out the mirror in triumph.
Humph! grunted the sick woman, eyeing her reflection severely. I like red pinks better than pink ones; but then, itll fade, anyhow, before night, so whats the difference!
But I should think youd be glad they did fade, laughed Pollyanna, cause then you can have the fun of getting some more. I just love your hair fluffed out like that, she finished with a satisfied gaze. Dont you?
Hm-m; maybe. Still-twont last, with me tossing back and forth on the pillow as I do.
Of course not-and Im glad, too, nodded Pollyanna, cheerfully, because then I can fix it again. Anyhow, I should think youd be glad its black-black shows up so much nicer on a pillow than yellow hair like mine does.
Maybe; but I never did set much store by black hair-shows gray too soon, retorted Mrs. Snow. She spoke fretfully, but she still held the mirror before her face.
Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it, sighed Pollyanna.
Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.
Well, you wouldnt! not if you were me. You wouldnt be glad for black hair nor anything else-if you had to lie here all day as I do!
Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.
Why, twould be kind of hard-to do it then, wouldnt it? she mused aloud.
Do what?
Be glad about things.
Be glad about things-when youre sick in bed all your days? Well, I should say it would, retorted Mrs. Snow. If you dont think so, just tell me something to be glad about; thats all!
To Mrs. Snows unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
Oh, goody! Thatll be a hard one-wont it? Ive got to go, now, but Ill think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come I can tell it to you. Good-by. Ive had a lovely time! Good-by, she called again, as she tripped through the doorway.
Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that? ejaculated Mrs. Snow, staring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head and picked up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.
That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake, she muttered under her breath. I declare, I didnt know it could look so pretty. But then, whats the use? she sighed, dropping the little glass into the bedclothes, and rolling her head on the pillow fretfully.
A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snows daughter, came in, the mirror still lay among the bedclothes-though it had been carefully hidden from sight.
Why, mother-the curtain is up! cried Milly, dividing her amazed stare between the window and the pink in her mothers hair.
Well, what if it is? snapped the sick woman. I neednt stay in the dark all my life, if I am sick, need I?
Why, n-no, of course not, rejoined Milly, in hasty conciliation, as she reached for the medicine bottle. Its only-well, you know very well that Ive tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages and you wouldnt.
There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was picking at the lace on her nightgown. At last she spoke fretfully.
I should think SOMEBODY might give me a new nightdress-instead of lamb broth, for a change!
Why-mother!
No wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewilderment. In the drawer behind her at that moment lay two new nightdresses that Milly for months had been vainly urging her mother to wear.
Chapter IX
Which tells of the man
It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. She greeted him, however, with a bright smile.
It isnt so nice today, is it? she called blithesomely. Im glad it doesnt rain always, anyhow!
The man did not even grunt this time, nor turn his head. Pollyanna decided that of course he did not hear her. The next time, therefore (which happened to be the following day), she spoke up louder. She thought it particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the Man was striding along, his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the ground-which seemed, to Pollyanna, preposterous in the face of the glorious sunshine and the freshly-washed morning air: Pollyanna, as a special treat, was on a morning errand to-day.
How do you do? she chirped. Im so glad it isnt yesterday, arent you?
The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry scowl on his face.
See here, little girl, we might just as well settle this thing right now, once for all, he began testily. Ive got something besides the weather to think of. I dont know whether the sun shines or not. Pollyanna beamed joyously.
No, sir; I thought you didnt. Thats why I told you.
Yes; well-Eh? What? he broke off sharply, in sudden understanding of her words.
I say, thats why I told you-so you would notice it, you know-that the sun shines, and all that. I knew youd be glad it did if you only stopped to think of it-and you didnt look a bit as if you WERE thinking of it!
Well, of all the- ejaculated the man, with an oddly impotent gesture. He started forward again, but after the second step he turned back, still frowning.
See here, why dont you find someone your own age to talk to?
Id like to, sir, but there arent any round here, Nancy says. Still, I dont mind so very much. I like old folks just as well, maybe better, sometimes-being used to the Ladies Aid, so.
Humph! The Ladies Aid, indeed! Is that what you took me for? The mans lips were threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was still trying to hold them grimly stern.
Pollyanna laughed gleefully.
Oh, no, sir. You dont look a mite like a Ladies Aider-not but that youre just as good, of course-maybe better, she added in hurried politeness. You see, Im sure youre much nicer than you look!
The man made a queer noise in his throat.