It was on a rainy day about a week after Pollyanna's visit to Mr. John
Pendleton, that Miss Polly was driven by Timothy to an early afternoon
committee meeting of the Ladies' Aid Society. When she returned at three
o'clock, her cheeks were a bright, pretty pink, and her hair, blown by
the damp wind, had fluffed into kinks and curls wherever the loosened
pins had given leave.
Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look like this.
“Oh--oh--oh! Why, Aunt Polly, you've got 'em, too,” she cried
rapturously, dancing round and round her aunt, as that lady entered the
sitting room.
“Got what, you impossible child?”
Pollyanna was still revolving round and round her aunt.
“And I never knew you had 'em! Can folks have 'em when you don't know
they've got 'em? DO you suppose I could?--'fore I get to Heaven, I
mean,” she cried, pulling out with eager fingers the straight locks
above her ears. “But then, they wouldn't be black, if they did come. You
can't hide the black part.”
“Pollyanna, what does all this mean?” demanded Aunt Polly, hurriedly
removing her hat, and trying to smooth back her disordered hair.
“No, no--please, Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna's jubilant voice turned to one
of distressed appeal. “Don't smooth 'em out! It's those that I'm talking
about--those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt Polly, they're so
pretty!”
“Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies' Aid the
other day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy?”
“But it isn't nonsense,” urged Pollyanna, answering only the first of
her aunt's remarks. “You don't know how pretty you look with your hair
like that! Oh, Aunt Polly, please, mayn't I do your hair like I did Mrs.
Snow's, and put in a flower? I'd so love to see you that way! Why, you'd
be ever so much prettier than she was!”
“Pollyanna!” (Miss Polly spoke very sharply--all the more sharply
because Pollyanna's words had given her an odd throb of joy: when before
had anybody cared how she, or her hair looked? When before had anybody
“loved” to see her “pretty”?) “Pollyanna, you did not answer my
question. Why did you go to the Ladies' Aid in that absurd fashion?”
“Yes'm, I know; but, please, I didn't know it was absurd until I went
and found out they'd rather see their report grow than Jimmy. So then
I wrote to MY Ladies' Aiders--'cause Jimmy is far away from them,
you know; and I thought maybe he could be their little India boy same
as--Aunt Polly, WAS I your little India girl? And, Aunt Polly, you WILL
let me do your hair, won't you?”
Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat--the old, helpless feeling was
upon her, she knew.
“But, Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this afternoon how you came to
them, I was so ashamed! I--”
Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly on her toes.
“You didn't!--You didn't say I COULDN'T do your hair,” she crowed
triumphantly; “and so I'm sure it means just the other way 'round,
sort of--like it did the other day about Mr. Pendleton's jelly that you
didn't send, but didn't want me to say you didn't send, you know. Now
wait just where you are. I'll get a comb.”
“But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the
little girl from the room and panting up-stairs after her.
“Oh, did you come up here?” Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss
Polly's own room. “That'll be nicer yet! I've got the comb. Now sit
down, please, right here. Oh, I'm so glad you let me do it!”
“But, Pollyanna, I--I--”
Miss Polly did not finish her sentence. To her helpless amazement she
found herself in the low chair before the dressing table, with her
hair already tumbling about her ears under ten eager, but very gentle
fingers.
“Oh, my! what pretty hair you've got,” prattled Pollyanna; “and there's
so much more of it than Mrs. Snow has, too! But, of course, you need
more, anyhow, because you're well and can go to places where folks
can see it. My! I reckon folks'll be glad when they do see it--and
surprised, too, 'cause you've hid it so long. Why, Aunt Polly, I'll make
you so pretty everybody'll just love to look at you!”
“Pollyanna!” gasped a stifled but shocked voice from a veil of hair.
“I--I'm sure I don't know why I'm letting you do this silly thing.”
“Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you'd be glad to have folks like to
look at you! Don't you like to look at pretty things? I'm ever so much
happier when I look at pretty folks, 'cause when I look at the other
kind I'm so sorry for them.”
“But--but--”
“And I just love to do folks' hair,” purred Pollyanna, contentedly. “I
did quite a lot of the Ladies' Aiders'--but there wasn't any of them so
nice as yours. Mrs. White's was pretty nice, though, and she looked
just lovely one day when I dressed her up in--Oh, Aunt Polly, I've just
happened to think of something! But it's a secret, and I sha'n't tell.
Now your hair is almost done, and pretty quick I'm going to leave you
just a minute; and you must promise--promise--PROMISE not to stir nor
peek, even, till I come back. Now remember!” she finished, as she ran
from the room.
Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she said that of course she
should at once undo the absurd work of her niece's fingers, and put her
hair up properly again. As for “peeking” just as if she cared how--
At that moment--unaccountably--Miss Polly caught a glimpse of herself in
the mirror of the dressing table. And what she saw sent such a flush of
rosy color to her cheeks that--she only flushed the more at the sight.
She saw a face--not young, it is true--but just now alight with
excitement and surprise. The cheeks were a pretty pink. The eyes
sparkled. The hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay
in loose waves about the forehead and curved back over the ears in
wonderfully becoming lines, with softening little curls here and there.
So amazed and so absorbed was Miss Polly with what she saw in the glass
that she quite forgot her determination to do over her hair, until she
heard Pollyanna enter the room again. Before she could move, then, she
felt a folded something slipped across her eyes and tied in the back.
“Pollyanna, Pollyanna! What are you doing?” she cried.
Pollyanna chuckled.
“That's just what I don't want you to know, Aunt Polly, and I was afraid
you WOULD peek, so I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit still. It won't
take but just a minute, then I'll let you see.”
“But, Pollyanna,” began Miss Polly, struggling blindly to her feet, “you
must take this off! You--child, child! what ARE you doing?” she gasped,
as she felt a soft something slipped about her shoulders.
Pollyanna only chuckled the more gleefully. With trembling fingers she
was draping about her aunt's shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful
lace shawl, yellowed from long years of packing away, and fragrant with
lavender. Pollyanna had found the shawl the week before when Nancy had
been regulating the attic; and it had occurred to her to-day that there
was no reason why her aunt, as well as Mrs. White of her Western home,
should not be “dressed up.”
Her task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that approved,
but that saw yet one touch wanting. Promptly, therefore, she pulled
her aunt toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated red rose
blooming on the trellis within reach of her hand.
“Pollyanna, what are you doing? Where are you taking me to?” recoiled
Aunt Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back. “Pollyanna, I shall
not--”
“It's just to the sun parlor--only a minute! I'll have you ready
now quicker'n no time,” panted Pollyanna, reaching for the rose and
thrusting it into the soft hair above Miss Polly's left ear. “There!”
she exulted, untying the knot of the handkerchief and flinging the bit
of linen far from her. “Oh, Aunt Polly, now I reckon you'll be glad I
dressed you up!”
For one dazed moment Miss Polly looked at her bedecked self, and at her
surroundings; then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna,
following the direction of her aunt's last dismayed gaze, saw, through
the open windows of the sun parlor, the horse and gig turning into the
driveway. She recognized at once the man who held the reins. Delightedly
she leaned forward.
“Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me? I'm up here.”
“Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “Will you come down,
please?”
In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed woman
plucking at the pins that held a lace shawl in place.
“Pollyanna, how could you?” moaned the woman. “To think of your rigging
me up like this, and then letting me--BE SEEN!”
Pollyanna stopped in dismay.
“But you looked lovely--perfectly lovely, Aunt Polly; and--”
“'Lovely'!” scorned the woman, flinging the shawl to one side and
attacking her hair with shaking fingers.
“Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let the hair stay!”
“Stay? Like this? As if I would!” And Miss Polly pulled the locks so
tightly back that the last curl lay stretched dead at the ends of her
fingers.
“O dear! And you did look so pretty,” almost sobbed Pollyanna, as she
stumbled through the door.
Down-stairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting in his gig.
“I've prescribed you for a patient, and he's sent me to get the
prescription filled,” announced the doctor. “Will you go?”
“You mean--an errand--to the drug store?” asked Pollyanna, a little
uncertainly. “I used to go some--for the Ladies' Aiders.”
The doctor shook his head with a smile.
“Not exactly. It's Mr. John Pendleton. He would like to see you to-day,
if you'll be so good as to come. It's stopped raining, so I drove down
after you. Will you come? I'll call for you and bring you back before
six o'clock.”
“I'd love to!” exclaimed Pollyanna. “Let me ask Aunt Polly.”
In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober
face.
“Didn't--your aunt want you to go?” asked the doctor, a little
diffidently, as they drove away.
“Y-yes,” sighed Pollyanna. “She--she wanted me to go TOO much, I'm
afraid.”
“Wanted you to go TOO MUCH!”
Pollyanna sighed again.
“Yes. I reckon she meant she didn't want me there. You see, she said:
'Yes, yes, run along, run along--do! I wish you'd gone before.'”
The doctor smiled--but with his lips only. His eyes were very grave. For
some time he said nothing; then, a little hesitatingly, he asked:
“Wasn't it--your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago--in the window of
the sun parlor?”
Pollyanna drew a long breath.
“Yes; that's what's the whole trouble, I suppose. You see I'd dressed
her up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl I found up-stairs, and I'd fixed
her hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. Didn't YOU think
she looked just lovely?”
For a moment the doctor did not answer. When he did speak his voice was
so low Pollyanna could but just hear the words.
“Yes, Pollyanna, I--I thought she did look--just lovely.”
“Did you? I'm so glad! I'll tell her,” nodded the little girl,
contentedly.
To her surprise the doctor gave a sudden exclamation.
“Never! Pollyanna, I--I'm afraid I shall have to ask you not to tell
her--that.”
“Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you'd be glad--”
“But she might not be,” cut in the doctor.
Pollyanna considered this for a moment.
“That's so--maybe she wouldn't,” she sighed. “I remember now; 'twas
'cause she saw you that she ran. And she--she spoke afterwards about her
being seen in that rig.”
“I thought as much,” declared the doctor, under his breath.
“Still, I don't see why,” maintained Pollyanna, “--when she looked so
pretty!”
The doctor said nothing. He did not speak again, indeed, until they
were almost to the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a
broken leg.
CHAPTER XVII. “JUST LIKE A BOOK”
John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna to-day with a smile.
“Well, Miss Pollyanna, I'm thinking you must be a very forgiving little
person, else you wouldn't have come to see me again to-day.”
“Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, and I'm sure I don't see
why I shouldn't be, either.”
“Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with you, I'm afraid, both the
other day when you so kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when
you found me with the broken leg at first. By the way, too, I don't
think I've ever thanked you for that. Now I'm sure that even you would
admit that you were very forgiving to come and see me, after such
ungrateful treatment as that!”
Pollyanna stirred uneasily.
“But I was glad to find you--that is, I don't mean I was glad your leg
was broken, of course,” she corrected hurriedly.
John Pendleton smiled.
“I understand. Your tongue does get away with you once in a while,
doesn't it, Miss Pollyanna? I do thank you, however; and I consider you
a very brave little girl to do what you did that day. I thank you for
the jelly, too,” he added in a lighter voice.
“Did you like it?” asked Pollyanna with interest.
“Very much. I suppose--there isn't any more to-day that--that Aunt Polly
DIDN'T send, is there?” he asked with an odd smile.
His visitor looked distressed.
“N-no, sir.” She hesitated, then went on with heightened color. “Please,
Mr. Pendleton, I didn't mean to be rude the other day when I said Aunt
Polly did NOT send the jelly.”
There was no answer. John Pendleton was not smiling now. He was looking
straight ahead of him with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and
beyond the object before them. After a time he drew a long sigh and
turned to Pollyanna. When he spoke his voice carried the old nervous
fretfulness.
“Well, well, this will never do at all! I didn't send for you to see
me moping this time. Listen! Out in the library--the big room where the
telephone is, you know--you will find a carved box on the lower shelf of
the big case with glass doors in the corner not far from the fireplace.
That is, it'll be there if that confounded woman hasn't 'regulated'
it to somewhere else! You may bring it to me. It is heavy, but not too
heavy for you to carry, I think.”
“Oh, I'm awfully strong,” declared Pollyanna, cheerfully, as she sprang
to her feet. In a minute she had returned with the box.
It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna spent then. The box was
full of treasures--curios that John Pendleton had picked up in years of
travel--and concerning each there was some entertaining story, whether
it were a set of exquisitely carved chessmen from China, or a little
jade idol from India.
It was after she had heard the story about the idol that Pollyanna
murmured wistfully:
“Well, I suppose it WOULD be better to take a little boy in India to
bring up--one that didn't know any more than to think that God was in
that doll-thing--than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who
knows God is up in the sky. Still, I can't help wishing they had wanted
Jimmy Bean, too, besides the India boys.”
John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his, eyes were staring
straight before him, looking at nothing. But soon he had roused himself,
and had picked up another curio to talk about.
The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was over,
Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides
the wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They were talking
of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life. They were
talking, too, even of the life and home long ago in the far Western
town.
Not until it was nearly time for her to go, did the man say, in a voice
Pollyanna had never before heard from stern John Pendleton:
“Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you? I'm
lonesome, and I need you. There's another reason--and I'm going to tell
you that, too. I thought, at first, after I found out who you were,
the other day, that I didn't want you to come any more. You reminded
me of--of something I have tried for long years to forget. So I said
to myself that I never wanted to see you again; and every day, when the
doctor asked if I wouldn't let him bring you to me, I said no.
“But after a time I found I was wanting to see you so much that--that
the fact that I WASN'T seeing you was making me remember all the more
vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So now I want you to come.
Will you--little girl?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Pendleton,” breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with
sympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her. “I'd
love to come!”
“Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently.
After supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told
Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton's wonderful carved box, and the still
more wonderful things it contained.
“And ter think,” sighed Nancy, “that he SHOWED ye all them things, and
told ye about 'em like that--him that's so cross he never talks ter no
one--no one!”
“Oh, but he isn't cross, Nancy, only outside,” demurred Pollyanna, with
quick loyalty. “I don't see why everybody thinks he's so bad, either.
They wouldn't, if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly doesn't like him
very well. She wouldn't send the jelly to him, you know, and she was so
afraid he'd think she did send it!”
“Probably she didn't call him no duty,” shrugged Nancy. “But what beats
me is how he happened ter take ter you so, Miss Pollyanna--meanin' no
offence ter you, of course--but he ain't the sort o' man what gen'rally
takes ter kids; he ain't, he ain't.”
Pollyanna smiled happily.
“But he did, Nancy,” she nodded, “only I reckon even he didn't want
to--ALL the time. Why, only to-day he owned up that one time he
just felt he never wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of
something he wanted to forget. But afterwards--”
“What's that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. “He said you reminded him
of something he wanted to forget?”
“Yes. But afterwards--”
“What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent.
“He didn't tell me. He just said it was something.”
“THE MYSTERY!” breathed Nancy, in an awestruck voice. “That's why he
took to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna! Why, that's just
like a book--I've read lots of 'em; 'Lady Maud's Secret,' and 'The Lost
Heir,' and 'Hidden for Years'--all of 'em had mysteries and things just
like this. My stars and stockings! Just think of havin' a book lived
right under yer nose like this an' me not knowin' it all this time! Now
tell me everythin'--everythin' he said, Miss Pollyanna, there's a dear!
No wonder he took ter you; no wonder--no wonder!”
“But he didn't,” cried Pollyanna, “not till _I_ talked to HIM, first.
And he didn't even know who I was till I took the calf's-foot jelly, and
had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn't send it, and--”
Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly.
“Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know--I KNOW I know!” she exulted
rapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna's side again.
“Tell me--now think, and answer straight and true,” she urged excitedly.
“It was after he found out you was Miss Polly's niece that he said he
didn't ever want ter see ye again, wa'n't it?”
“Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this
to-day.”
“I thought as much,” triumphed Nancy. “And Miss Polly wouldn't send the
jelly herself, would she?”
“No.”
“And you told him she didn't send it?”
“Why, yes; I--”
“And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you
was her niece. He did that, didn't he?”
“Why, y-yes; he did act a little queer--over that jelly,” admitted
Pollyanna, with a thoughtful frown.
Nancy drew a long sigh.
“Then I've got it, sure! Now listen. MR. JOHN PENDLETON WAS MISS POLLY
HARRINGTON'S LOVER!” she announced impressively, but with a furtive
glance over her shoulder.
“Why, Nancy, he couldn't be! She doesn't like him,” objected Pollyanna.
Nancy gave her a scornful glance.
“Of course she don't! THAT'S the quarrel!”
Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy
happily settled herself to tell the story.
“It's like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had
had a lover once. I didn't believe it. I couldn't--her and a lover! But
Mr. Tom said she had, and that he was livin' now right in this town. And
NOW I know, of course. It's John Pendleton. Hain't he got a mystery in
his life? Don't he shut himself up in that grand house alone, and never
speak ter no one? Didn't he act queer when he found out you was Miss
Polly's niece? And now hain't he owned up that you remind him of
somethin' he wants ter forget? Just as if ANYBODY couldn't see 'twas
Miss Polly!--an' her sayin' she wouldn't send him no jelly, too. Why,
Miss Pollyanna, it's as plain as the nose on yer face; it is, it is!”
“Oh-h!” breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. “But, Nancy, I
should think if they loved each other they'd make up some time. Both
of 'em all alone, so, all these years. I should think they'd be glad to
make up!”
Nancy sniffed disdainfully.
“I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You
ain't big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o' folks in the
world that wouldn't have no use for that 'ere 'glad game' o' your'n,
it'd be a pair o' quarrellin' lovers; and that's what they be. Ain't he
cross as sticks, most gen'rally?--and ain't she--”
Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about
whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.
“I ain't sayin', though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty
slick piece of business if you could GET 'em ter playin' it--so they
WOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn't folks stare some--Miss
Polly and him! I guess, though, there ain't much chance, much chance!”
Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later,
her face was very thoughtful.