Why, of course I can move-anywhere-in bed, she rejoined a little irritably.
Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow, cant you? nodded Pollyanna. Mrs. White couldnt. You cant thrash when you have rheumatic fever-though you want to something awful, Mrs. White says. She told me afterwards she reckoned shed have gone raving crazy if it hadnt been for Mr. Whites sisters ears-being deaf, so.
Sisters-EARS! What do you mean?
Pollyanna laughed.
Well, I reckon I didnt tell it all, and I forgot you didnt know Mrs. White. You see, Miss White was deaf-awfully deaf; and she came to visit em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the house. Well, they had such an awful time making her understand ANYTHING, that after that, every time the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. White felt so glad she COULD hear it, that she didnt mind so much that she DID hear it, cause she couldnt help thinking how awful twould be if she was deaf and couldnt hear anything, like her husbands sister. You see, she was playing the game, too. Id told her about it.
The-game?
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
There! I most forgot; but Ive thought it up, Mrs. Snow-what you can be glad about.
GLAD about! What do you mean?
Why, I told you I would. Dont you remember? You asked me to tell you something to be glad about-glad, you know, even though you did have to lie here abed all day.
Oh! scoffed the woman. THAT? Yes, I remember that; but I didnt suppose you were in earnest any more than I was.
Oh, yes, I was, nodded Pollyanna, triumphantly; and I found it, too. But TWAS hard. Its all the more fun, though, always, when tis hard. And I will own up, honest to true, that I couldnt think of anything for a while. Then I got it.
Did you, really? Well, what is it? Mrs. Snows voice was sarcastically polite.
Pollyanna drew a long breath.
I thought-how glad you could be-that other folks werent like you-all sick in bed like this, you know, she announced impressively. Mrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry.
Well, really! she ejaculated then, in not quite an agreeable tone of voice.
And now Ill tell you the game, proposed Pollyanna, blithely confident. Itll be just lovely for you to play-itll be so hard. And theres so much more fun when it is hard! You see, its like this. And she began to tell of the missionary barrel, the crutches, and the doll that did not come.
The story was just finished when Milly appeared at the door.
Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna, she said with dreary listlessness. She telephoned down to the Harlows across the way. She says youre to hurry-that youve got some practising to make up before dark.
Pollyanna rose reluctantly.
All right, she sighed. Ill hurry. Suddenly she laughed. I suppose I ought to be glad Ive got legs to hurry with, hadnt I, Mrs. Snow?
There was no answer. Mrs. Snows eyes were closed. But Milly, whose eyes were wide open with surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted cheeks.
Good-by, flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, as she reached the door. Im awfully sorry about the hair-I wanted to do it. But maybe I can next time!
One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy days, indeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy they were. Whereupon her aunt would usually reply, wearily:
Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are happy; but I trust that they are profitable, as well-otherwise I should have failed signally in my duty.
Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss-a proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly; but one day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour.
Do you mean that it wouldnt be enough then, Aunt Polly, that they should be just happy days? she asked wistfully.
That is what I mean, Pollyanna.
They must be pro-fi-ta-ble as well?
Certainly.
What is being pro-fi-ta-ble?
Why, it-its just being profitable-having profit, something to show for it, Pollyanna. What an extraordinary child you are!
Then just being glad isnt pro-fi-ta-ble? questioned Pollyanna, a little anxiously.
Certainly not.
O dear! Then you wouldnt like it, of course. Im afraid, now, you wont ever play the game, Aunt Polly.
Game? What game?
Why, that father- Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips. N-nothing, she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.
That will do for this morning, Pollyanna, she said tersely. And the sewing lesson was over.
It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway.
Why, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely! she cried. You were coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company, she finished, scampering up the stairs and throwing her door wide open.
Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She had been planning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window. But to her unbounded surprise now, she found herself, not in the main attic before the cedar chest, but in Pollyannas little room sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs-so many, many times since Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some utterly unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set out to do!
I love company, said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she were dispensing the hospitality of a palace; specially since Ive had this room, all mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a room, always, but twas a hired room, and hired rooms arent half as nice as owned ones, are they? And of course I do own this one, dont I?
Why, y-yes, Pollyanna, murmured Miss Polly, vaguely wondering why she did not get up at once and go to look for that shawl.
And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasnt got the carpets and curtains and pictures that Id been want- With a painful blush Pollyanna stopped short. She was plunging into an entirely different sentence when her aunt interrupted her sharply.
Whats that, Pollyanna?
N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didnt mean to say it.
Probably not, returned Miss Polly, coldly; but you did say it, so suppose we have the rest of it.
But it wasnt anything only that Id been kind of planning on pretty carpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But, of course-
PLANNING on them! interrupted Miss Polly, sharply.
Pollyanna blushed still more painfully.
I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly, she apologized. It was only because Id always wanted them and hadnt had them, I suppose. Oh, wed had two rugs in the barrels, but they were little, you know, and one had ink spots, and the other holes; and there never were only those two pictures; the one fath-I mean the good one we sold, and the bad one that broke. Of course if it hadnt been for all that I shouldnt have wanted them, so-pretty things, I mean; and I shouldnt have got to planning all through the hall that first day how pretty mine would be here, and-and-but, truly, Aunt Polly, it wasnt but just a minute-I mean, a few minutes-before I was being glad that the bureau DIDNT have a looking-glass, because it didnt show my freckles; and there couldnt be a nicer picture than the one out my window there; and youve been so good to me, that-
Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red.
That will do, Pollyanna, she said stiffly.
You have said quite enough, Im sure. The next minute she had swept down the stairs-and not until she reached the first floor did it suddenly occur to her that she had gone up into the attic to find a white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east window.
Less than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly said to Nancy, crisply:
Nancy, you may move Miss Pollyannas things downstairs this morning to the room directly beneath. I have decided to have my niece sleep there for the present.
Yes, maam, said Nancy aloud.