Chapter XXV. A Door Ajar

Just a week from the time Dr. Mead, the specialist, came. He was a tall man with kind gray eyes, and a cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once.

Everyone said afterward that it was the cat that noiselessly opened the door. And if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt’s words.

In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss Polly stood talking. In Pollyanna’s room the cat was purring on the bed when through the open door sounded clearly Aunt Polly’s exclamation.

“Not that! Doctor, not that! You don’t mean – the child – will NEVER WALK again!”

It was all confusion then. First, from the bedroom came Pollyanna’s terrified “Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly!” Then Miss Polly, seeing the open door and realizing that her words had been heard, gave a low little moan and – for the first time in her life – fainted away.

The nurse, with a choking “She heard!” ran toward the open door.

“Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want her right away, quick, please!”

The nurse closed the door and came forward hurriedly. Her face was very pale.

“She – she can’t come just this minute, dear. She will – a little later. What is it? Can’t I – get it?”

Pollyanna shook her head.

“But I want to know what she said – just now. Did you hear her? I want Aunt Polly – she said something. I want her to tell me it isn’t true!”

The nurse tried to speak, but no words came.

“Miss Hunt, you DID hear her! It is true! Oh, it isn’t true! You don’t mean I can’t ever – walk again?”

“There, there, dear – don’t, don’t!” said the nurse. “Perhaps he didn’t know. Perhaps he was mistaken.”

“But Aunt Polly said he knew more than anybody else about broken legs like mine!”

“Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make mistakes sometimes. Just don’t think anymore about it now – please don’t, dear.”

“But I can’t help thinking about it,” she sobbed. “It’s all there is now to think about. Miss Hunt, how am I going to school, or to see Mr. Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or – or anybody?” She sobbed wildly for a moment. Suddenly she stopped and looked up. “Miss Hunt, if I can’t walk, how am I ever going to be glad for – ANYTHING?”

Miss Hunt did not know “the game;” but she knew that her patient must be quieted. That is why she stood now at the bedside with the quieting powder ready.

“There, there, dear, just take this,” she soothed; “Things aren’t half as bad as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.”

Chapter XXVI. Two Visits

It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John Pendleton of Dr. Mead’s verdict.

“I’m Nancy, sir,” she said respectfully to Mr. Pendleton, when he came into the room. “Miss Harrington sent me to tell you about – Miss Pollyanna.”

“Well?”

“It isn’t well, Mr. Pendleton,” she choked.

“You don’t mean – ” He paused.

“Yes, sir. He says – she can’t walk again – never.”

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with emotion.

“Poor – little – girl! Poor – little – girl!”

Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once. In a moment he asked:

“She herself doesn’t know yet – of course – does she?”

“But she does, sir.” sobbed Nancy, “It’s only that the cat pushed open the door and Miss Pollyanna overheard them talking. She found out – that way.”

“Poor – little – girl!” sighed the man again.

“Yes, sir. You see it’s all so new to her, and she keeps thinking all the time of new things she can’t do – NOW. It worries her, too, because she can’t be glad – maybe you don’t know about her game, though,” said Nancy, apologetically.

“The ‘glad game’?” asked the man. “Oh, yes; she told me of that.”

“Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally to most folks. But you see, now she – she can’t play it herself, and it worries her.”

Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He sat with his hand over his eyes.

At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked timidly:

“There is also one more thing she feels bad about. It’s Jimmy Bean. She said she’d taken him to you once, but she didn’t think he showed off very well that day, and that she was afraid you didn’t think he would make a very nice child’s presence, after all. Maybe you know what she means by that; but I didn’t, sir.”

“Yes, I know – what she means.”

“All right, sir. She wanted to take him again to show you he really was a lovely child’s presence. And now she – can’t! I beg your pardon, sir. Goodbye!”

It did not take long for the entire town to learn that the great New York doctor had said Pollyanna would never walk again. Everybody knew her little freckled face and almost everybody knew of the “game” that Pollyanna was playing.

Soon Aunt Polly, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls: calls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men, women, and children. Some brought a book or a bunch of flowers. Some cried frankly. Everybody was anxious for the little injured girl.

First came Mr. John Pendleton.

“I don’t need to tell you how shocked I am,” he began almost harshly. “But can – nothing be done?”

Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair.

“Oh, we’re ‘doing,’ of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain treatments and medicines that might help. But – he held out almost no hope.”

John Pendleton rose abruptly. His face was white. Miss Polly, looking at him, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her presence. At the door he turned.

“I have a message for Pollyanna,” he said. “Will you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy Bean and – that he’s going to be my boy hereafter. Tell her I thought she would be – GLAD to know. I shall adopt him, probably.”

For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual self-control.

“You will adopt Jimmy Bean!” she gasped.

“Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. I hope she will be glad!”

“Thank you,” bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go.

With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went upstairs to Pollyanna’s room.

“Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. He said he thought you’d be glad to know it.”

Pollyanna’s little face flamed into sudden joy.

“Glad? GLAD? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, I’m so glad for Jimmy! Besides, I’m glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he’ll have the child’s presence.”

“The – what?”

“The child’s presence,” stammered Pollyanna, hastily. “Mr. Pendleton told me once, you see, that only a woman’s hand and heart or a child’s presence could make a – a home. And now he’s got it – the child’s presence.”

“Oh, I – see,” said Miss Polly very gently.

“Dr. Chilton says so, too – that it takes a woman’s hand and heart, or a child’s presence, to make a home, you know,” she remarked.

“DR. CHILTON! How do you know – that?”

“He told me so. It was when he said he lived in just rooms, you know – not a home.”

Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window.

“So I asked him why he didn’t get them – a woman’s hand and heart, and have a home.”

“Pollyanna!” Miss Polly turned sharply.

“Well, he looked so – so sorrowful.”

“What did he – say?” Miss Polly asked.

“He didn’t say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you couldn’t always get them for the asking.”

There was a brief silence. Miss Polly’s eyes turned again to the window. Her cheeks were unnaturally pink.

Pollyanna sighed.

“He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one.”

“Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?”

“Because, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said that he’d give all the world if he did have one woman’s hand and heart.”

Chapter XXVII. The Game and Its Players

It was not long after John Pendleton’s visit that Milly Snow called one afternoon.

“I–I came to inquire for the little girl,” she stammered.

“You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?” rejoined Miss Polly.

“That is what I came to tell you. You know nothing was ever right before – for mother. She was always wanting something different. But now she takes interest in things – how she looks, and her nightdress, and all that. And she knits little baby blankets for fairs and hospitals. And she’s so interested, and so GLAD to think she can do it! – and that was all Miss Pollyanna’s doings, you know, because she told mother she could be glad she’d got her hands and arms, anyway; and that made mother wonder right away why she didn’t DO something with her hands and arms. And so she began to do something – to knit, you know.”

“And so we want you to please tell Miss Pollyanna that we understand it’s all because of her. And please say we’re so glad we know her. And – and that’s all,” sighed Milly, rising hurriedly to her feet. “You’ll tell her?”

“Why, of course,” murmured Miss Polly.

These visits of John Pendleton and Milly Snow were only the first of many.

One day there was the little Widow Benton. Miss Polly knew her well. By reputation she knew her as the saddest little woman in town – one who was always in black. Today, however, Mrs. Benton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat, though there were tears in her eyes. She asked if she might see Pollyanna.

Miss Polly shook her head.

“I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A little later – perhaps.”

Mrs. Benton rose, and turned to go. But after she came back hurriedly.

“Miss Harrington, please give her – a message,” she stammered.

“Certainly, Mrs. Benton.”

Still the little woman hesitated; then she spoke.

“Will you tell her, please, that now I wear THIS,” she said, just touching the blue bow at her throat. The little girl has been trying for so long to make me wear – some color, that I thought she’d be – glad to know I’d begun. If you’ll just tell Pollyanna – SHE’LL understand.” And the door closed after her.

A little later, that same day, there was the other widow. The lady gave her name as “Mrs. Tarbell.”

“I’m a stranger to you, of course,” she began at once. “But I’m not a stranger to your little niece, Pollyanna. She’s such a dear little girl! I was very sad when I came up here; and her bright face and cheery manners reminded me of – my own little girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear of the accident. I just had to come to you.”

“You are very kind,” murmured Miss Polly.

“I–I want you to give her a message from me. Will you?”

“Certainly.”

“Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now. Yes, I know it sounds odd, and you don’t understand. But your niece will know just what I mean; and I felt that I must tell – her.” she said.

Miss Polly hurried upstairs to Pollyanna’s room.

“Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?”

“Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She’s sick, and sad; and takes long walks.”

“We’ll, she’s just been here, dear. She left a message for you. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell is glad now.”

Pollyanna clapped her hands softly.

“Did she say that – really? Oh, I’m so glad!”

“But, Pollyanna, what did she mean?”

“Why, it’s the game, and – ” Pollyanna stopped short.

“What game?”

“N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is – I can’t tell it unless I tell other things that – that I’m not to speak of.”

It was on Miss Polly’s tongue to question her niece further; but the obvious distress on the little girl’s face stopped the words before they were uttered.

Miss Polly went to the kitchen to Nancy.

“Nancy, WILL you tell me what this absurd ‘game’ is that the whole town seems to be babbling about? And what, please, has my niece to do with it? WHY does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. Tom Payson, send word to her that they’re ‘playing it’? As near as I can judge, half the town are putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, or learning to like something they never liked before, and all because of Pollyanna. I tried to ask the child herself about it, but I can’t seem to make much headway, and of course I don’t like to worry her – now. But from something I heard her say to you last night, I should judge you were one of them, too. Now WILL you tell me what it all means?”

To Miss Polly’s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst into tears.

“It means that ever since last June Pollyanna has just been making the whole town glad, and now they’re turning around and trying to make her a little glad, too.”

“Glad of what?”

“Just glad! That’s the game.”

“What game?”

“I’ll tell you, ma’am. It’s a game Miss Pollyanna’s father taught her to play. The game is to find something in everything to be glad about. And they called it the ‘just being glad’ game. That’s the game, ma’am.”

“But why hasn’t – she told me – the game?” faltered Miss Polly.

Nancy hesitated.

“Ma’am, you told her not to speak of – her father; so she couldn’t tell you. It was her father’s game, you see.”

Miss Polly bit her lip.

“She wanted to tell you, first off,” continued Nancy, a little unsteadily. “She wanted somebody to play it with. That’s why I began it, so she could have someone.”

“And – and – these others?” Miss Polly’s voice shook now.

“Oh, of course she told a lot, and they told the rest. And she was always so smiling and pleasant to everyone. Now, since she’s hurt, everybody feels so bad – especially when they heard how bad SHE feels because she can’t find anything to be glad about. And so they come every day to tell her how glad she’s made THEM, hoping that’ll help some. You see, she’s always wanted everybody to play the game with her.”

“Well, I know somebody who’ll play it – now,” choked Miss Polly, as she turned and ran through the kitchen doorway.

Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly.

A little later, in Pollyanna’s room, the nurse left Miss Polly and Pollyanna alone together.

“Now I know everything about the game you’re playing. Nancy told me. I think it’s a beautiful game. I’m going to play it now – with you.”

“Oh, Aunt Polly – YOU? I’m so glad! You see, I’ve really wanted you most of anybody, all the time.”

“Yes, dear; and there are all those others, too. Why, Pollyanna, I think all the town is playing that game now with you – even to the minister! The whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happier – and all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game, and how to play it.”

Pollyanna clapped her hands.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she cried. Then, suddenly, a wonderful light illumined her face. “Aunt Polly, there IS something I can be glad about, after all. I can be glad I’ve HAD my legs, anyway – else I couldn’t have done – that!”