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Oh, Mrs. Carew, Ive just been thinking how glad I am we dont have to live but just one day at a time!
Mrs. Carew frowned and looked down sharply. Mrs. Carew was in no mood for preaching. She had just been obliged to endure it from the pulpit, she told herself angrily, and she would NOT listen to it from this chit of a child. Moreover, this living one day at a time theory was a particularly pet doctrine of Dellas. Was not Della always saying: But you only have to live one minute at a time, Ruth, and any one can endure anything for one minute at a time!
Well? said Mrs. Carew now, tersely.
Yes. Only think what Id do if I had to live yesterday and to-day and to-morrow all at once, sighed Pollyanna. Such a lot of perfectly lovely things, you know. But Ive had yesterday, and now Im living today, and Ive got to-morrow still coming, and next Sunday, too. Honestly, Mrs. Carew, if it wasnt Sunday now, and on this nice quiet street, I should just dance and shout and yell. I couldnt help it. But its being Sunday, so, I shall have to wait till I get home and then take a hymn the most rejoicingest hymn I can think of. What is the most rejoicingest hymn? Do you know, Mrs. Carew?
No, I cant say that I do, answered Mrs. Carew, faintly, looking very much as if she were searching for something she had lost. For a woman who expects, because things are so bad, to be told that she need stand only one day at a time, it is disarming, to say the least[23], to be told that, because things are so good, it is lucky she does not HAVE to stand but one day at a time!
On Monday, the next morning, Pollyanna went to school for the first time alone. She knew the way perfectly now, and it was only a short walk. Pollyanna enjoyed her school very much. It was a small private school for girls, and was quite a new experience, in its way; but Pollyanna liked new experiences.
Mrs. Carew, however, did not like new experiences, and she was having a good many of them these days. For one who is tired of everything to be in so intimate a companionship with one to whom everything is a fresh and fascinating joy must needs result in annoyance, to say the least. And Mrs. Carew was more than annoyed. She was exasperated. Yet to herself she was forced to admit that if any one asked her why she was exasperated, the only reason she could give would be Because Pollyanna is so glad and even Mrs. Carew would hardly like to give an answer like that.
Mrs. Carew, however, did not like new experiences, and she was having a good many of them these days. For one who is tired of everything to be in so intimate a companionship with one to whom everything is a fresh and fascinating joy must needs result in annoyance, to say the least. And Mrs. Carew was more than annoyed. She was exasperated. Yet to herself she was forced to admit that if any one asked her why she was exasperated, the only reason she could give would be Because Pollyanna is so glad and even Mrs. Carew would hardly like to give an answer like that.
To Della, however, Mrs. Carew did write that the word glad had got on her nerves, and that sometimes she wished she might never hear it again. She still admitted that Pollyanna had not preached that she had not even once tried to make her play the game. What the child did do, however, was invariably to take Mrs. Carews gladness as a matter of course, which, to one who HAD no gladness, was most provoking.
It was during the second week of Pollyannas stay that Mrs. Carews annoyance overflowed into irritable remonstrance. The immediate cause thereof was Pollyannas glowing conclusion to a story about one of her Ladies Aiders.
She was playing the game, Mrs. Carew. But maybe you dont know what the game is. Ill tell you. Its a lovely game.
But Mrs. Carew held up her hand.
Never mind, Pollyanna, she demurred. I know all about the game. My sister told me, and and I must say that I I should not care for it[24].
Why, of course not, Mrs. Carew! exclaimed Pollyanna in quick apology. I didnt mean the game for you. You couldnt play it, of course.
I COULDNt play it! ejaculated Mrs. Carew, who, though she WOULD not play this silly game, was in no mood to be told that she COULD not.
Why, no, dont you see? laughed Pollyanna, gleefully. The game is to find something in everything to be glad about; and you couldnt even begin to hunt, for there isnt anything about you but what you COULD be glad about. There wouldnt BE any game to it for you! Dont you see?
Mrs. Carew flushed angrily. In her annoyance she said more than perhaps she meant to say.
Well, no, Pollyanna, I cant say that I do, she differed coldly. As it happens, you see, I can find nothing whatever to be glad for.
For a moment Pollyanna stared blankly. Then she fell back in amazement.
Why, MRS. CAREW! she breathed.
Well, what is there for me? challenged the woman, forgetting all about, for the moment, that she was never going to allow Pollyanna to preach.
Why, theres theres everything, murmured Pollyanna, still with that dazed unbelief. There theres this beautiful house.