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When Pollyanna made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton windows were open. She rang the bell. Soon an elderly woman opened the door.
“If you please, I’ve brought some calf’s-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” smiled Pollyanna.
“Thank you,” said the woman. “Who shall I say sent it?”
Suddenly Doctor Chilton stepped quickly forward.
“Ah! Some calf’s-foot jelly?” he asked. “That will be fine! Maybe you want to see our patient?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna.
“But, Doctor, didn’t Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit – anyone?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor. “But now I give orders.” Then he added: “You don’t know, of course; but that little girl is better than a bottle of tonic any day.”
“Who is she?”
“She’s the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. I don’t know the little lady well; but lots of my patients do!”
The nurse smiled.
“And what is special about her?”
“I don’t know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming gladness for everything that has happened or is going to happen.”
Pollyanna, meanwhile, entered John Pendleton’s room. The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking man lying on his back in bed.
“Oh, it’s you!” he exclaimed as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed.
“Yes, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “And I’ve brought you some calf’s-foot jelly,” resumed Pollyanna; “I hope you like it?”
“Never ate it.”
“Didn’t you? Well, if you didn’t, then you can’t know you DON’T like it, anyhow, can you?”
“Well, there’s one thing I know all right, and that is that I’m flat on my back right here this minute.”
“Yes, but broken legs don’t last long, you know – and you’re not a lifelong invalid as Mrs. Snow. I should think you could be glad of that.”
“Oh, of course,” interrupted the man, sharply; “I can be glad, too, for all the rest, I suppose – the nurse, and the doctor, and that woman in the kitchen!”
“Why, yes, sir, only think how bad it would be if you didn’t have them – and you lying here like this!”
“And you expect me to say I’m glad because I have to pay them, and pay them well, too!”
Pollyanna frowned sympathetically.
“Yes, I know. You’ve been saving money buying beans and fish balls, you know.
“Look here, child, what are you talking about?”
Pollyanna smiled.
“About your money, you know. Nancy told me.”
The man’s jaw dropped.
“Nancy told you I was saving money – Well, may I inquire who Nancy is?”
“Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.”
“Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?”
“She’s Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.”
The man made a sudden movement.
“Miss – Polly – Harrington!” he breathed. “You live with – HER!”
“Yes; I’m her niece. She’s taken me to bring up – on account of my mother, she was her sister. My mother died, and my father too.”
“And so you are – Miss Polly Harrington’s niece,” he said gently.
“Yes, sir. “I–I suppose you know – her.”
“Oh, yes; I know her. But you can’t mean that it was Miss Polly Harrington who sent that jelly – to me?” he said slowly.
Pollyanna looked distressed.
“No, sir: she didn’t. She said I must be very sure not to let you think she did send it. But I – ”
“I thought as much,” vouchsafed the man, shortly, turning away his head. And Pollyanna, still more distressed, tiptoed from the room.
Then she saw Dr. Chilton.
“Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure of seeing you home?” asked the doctor smilingly.
“Thank you, sir. I love to ride,” beamed Pollyanna. “Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would be the very gladdest kind of a business there was.”
The doctor turned in surprise.
“‘Gladdest’! – when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I go?” he cried.
She nodded.
“I know; but you’re HELPING it – don’t you see? – and of course you’re glad to help!”
The doctor’s eyes filled with sudden hot tears. The doctor’s life was lonely one. He had no wife and no home. His profession was very dear to him.
“God bless you, little girl,” he said unsteadily.
The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, smiled at Nancy, then drove rapidly away.
“I’ve had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doctor,” announced Pollyanna, “He’s lovely, Nancy!”
Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room.
“Who was that man – the one who drove into the yard, Pollyanna?” questioned the lady a little sharply.
“Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton! Don’t you know him?”
“Dr. Chilton! What was he doing – here?”
“He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly to Mr. Pendleton, and – ”
Miss Polly lifted her head quickly.
“Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?”
“Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn’t.”
Miss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink.
“You TOLD him I didn’t!”
“Why, Aunt Polly, you SAID to!”
Aunt Polly sighed.
“I SAID, Pollyanna, that I did not send it, and for you to be very sure that he did not think I DID! – which is a very different matter from TELLING him outright that I did not send it.”
“Dear me! Well, I don’t see where the difference is,” sighed Pollyanna.
About a week after Pollyanna’s visit to Mr. John Pendleton Miss Polly attended the Ladies’ Aid meeting. When she returned at three o’clock, her cheeks were pink, and her hair was fluffed into curls.
“Oh – oh – oh! Aunt Polly, you’ve got them, too,” she cried rapturously, dancing round and round her aunt, as that lady entered the sitting room.
“Pollyanna, what does all this mean?” demanded Aunt Polly.
“Oh, Aunt Polly!” I’m talking about those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt Polly, they’re so pretty! May I do your hair?”
“Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies’ in that absurd fashion? 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.
“Wait just where you are. I’ll get a comb.”
“But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt Polly, following the little girl from the room and upstairs after her.
“Oh, did you come up here?” Pollyanna greeted her at the door of Miss Polly’s own room. “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 – ”
“Oh, what pretty hair you’ve got,” prattled Pollyanna. Aunt Polly, I’ll make you so pretty everybody’ll just love to look at you!”
“Pollyanna! I–I’m sure I don’t know why I’m letting you do this silly thing.”
“Why, Aunt Polly, don’t you like to look at pretty things?”
“But – but – ”
“And I just love to do hair!” purred Pollyanna, contentedly. “Oh, Aunt Polly, now your hair is almost done, and I need to leave you for just a minute; and you must promise – promise – PROMISE not to stir nor peek till I come back. Now remember!” she finished, as she ran from the room.
Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. But at that moment – unaccountably – Miss Polly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dressing table. And she saw her face – not young, it is true, but the cheeks were a pretty pink, the eyes sparkled. The hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay in loose waves.
Miss Polly was amazed and absorbed with what she saw. Then Pollyanna entered the room again. She chuckled.
With trembling fingers she draped about her aunt’s shoulders a beautiful lace shawl.
Promptly, therefore, she pulled her aunt toward the sun parlor and thrusted a red rose into the soft hair above Miss Polly’s left ear.
For one moment Miss Polly stood still but then she gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna, following the direction of her aunt’s last gaze, saw, through the open windows of the sun parlor Dr. Chilton.
“Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton! Did you want to see me?”
“Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “Will you come down, please?”
In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed-faced, angry-eyed aunt Polly.
“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 – ”
Downstairs Pollyanna found the doctor.
He smiled.
“Mr. John Pendleton wants to see you today. It’s stopped raining, so I drove down after you. Will you come? I can bring you back before six o’clock.”
“I’ll be glad!” exclaimed Pollyanna. “Let me ask Aunt Polly.”
In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but with rather a sober face.
The doctor a little hesitatingly, asked:
“Wasn’t it your aunt I saw with you a few minutes ago – in the window of the sun parlor?”
“Yes, I dressed her up in a perfectly lovely lace shawl and I fixed her hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. Didn’t YOU think she looked just lovely?”
“Yes, Pollyanna, I–I thought she did look – just lovely.”
“I’m so glad! I’ll tell her,” nodded the little girl.
“Never! Pollyanna, please don’t tell her – that.”
“Why, Dr. Chilton! Why not? I should think you’d be glad – ”
The doctor said nothing. He did not speak again until they reached the great stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a broken leg.
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