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Chapter X. A Surprise for Mrs. Snow
The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room.
“It’s the little girl from Miss Polly’s, mother,” announced Milly.
“Oh, it’s you?” asked a voice from the bed. I wish you had come yesterday.”
“Did you? Well, I’m glad,” Pollyanna entered the room and set her basket carefully down on a chair. “It’s so dark here! I can’t see you,” she cried. After that Pollyanna pulled up the shade.
Mrs. Snow turned her eyes toward the basket. “Well, what is it?”
“Guess! What do you want?”
The sick woman frowned.
“Why, I don’t WANT anything,” she sighed. “After all, they all taste alike!”
Pollyanna chuckled.
“If you DID want something, what would it be?”
The woman hesitated.
“Well, of course, there’s lamb broth – ”
“I’ve got it!” crowed Pollyanna.
“But that’s what I DIDN’T want,” sighed the sick woman. “It was chicken I wanted.”
“Oh, I’ve got that, too,” chuckled Pollyanna.
The woman turned in amazement.
“Both of them?” she demanded.
“Yes – and calf’s-foot jelly,” triumphed Pollyanna. “I was just bound you should have what you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. “I’ll leave them all,” announced Pollyanna.
Suddenly Milly appeared at the door.
“Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna.
Pollyanna rose.
“All right,” she sighed. “Goodbye, I’m 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. Her aunt usually replied:
“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.”
“Is just being glad isn’t pro-fi-ta-ble?” asked Pollyanna, a little anxiously.
“Certainly not.”
“Oh dear! I’m afraid, now, you won’t 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.
It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic room, met her aunt on the stairway.
“Why, Aunt Polly,” she cried. “You were coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company,” said Pollyanna, “especially since I’ve had this room, all mine, you know. And of course NOW I just love this room, even if it hasn’t got the carpets and curtains and pictures – ” With a painful blush Pollyanna stopped.
“What’s that, Pollyanna?”
Pollyanna blushed still more painfully.
“I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,” she apologized. “It was only because I’d always wanted them and hadn’t had them, I suppose.”
Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was very red.
“That will do, Pollyanna,” she said.
