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Chapter VII. Pollyanna and Punishments
The shopping expedition consumed the entire afternoon; then came supper and a delightful talk with Old Tom in the garden, and another with Nancy on the back porch.
Old Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her mother and she felt very happy indeed; and Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles away at “The Corners,” where lived her own dear mother, and her dear brother and sisters. She promised, too, that some time, if Miss Polly were willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them.
“And THEY’VE got lovely names, too. You’ll like THEIR names,” sighed Nancy. “They’re ‘Algernon,’ and ‘Florabelle’ and ‘Estelle.’ I–I just hate ‘Nancy’!”
“Oh, Nancy, why?”
“Because it isn’t pretty like the others.”
“But I love ‘Nancy,’ just because it’s you,” declared Pollyanna. “Well, anyhow,” she chuckled, “you can be glad your name isn’t ‘Hephzibah’.”
“Hephzibah!”
“Yes. Mrs. White’s name is that. Her husband calls her ‘Hep’ and she doesn’t like it. She says when he calls out ‘Hep – Hep!’ she feels just as if the next minute he was going to yell ‘Hurrah!’ And she doesn’t like it.”
Nancy smiled.
“Say, Miss Pollyanna, were you playing that game about my being glad I’m not ‘Hephzibah’?”
Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed.
“Why, Nancy, that’s so! I WAS playing the game – but that’s one of the times I just did it without thinking, I reckon.”
“Well, m-maybe,” granted Nancy, with open doubt.
At half past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. It was very hot in her room and she could not sleep. It seemed to her that it must have been hours before she finally slipped out of bed and opened her door.
Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness except where the moon flung a path of silver near the east window. She saw something else: she saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat roof of Miss Polly’s sun parlor. If only, now, she were out there!
Suddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window a row of long white bags hanging from nails. She selected a nice fat soft bag for a bed; another bag for a pillow, and a thin bag which seemed almost empty for a covering. Then she stuffed her burden through the window to the roof below, then let herself down after it.
How deliciously cool it was! The roof under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna rather liked. She walked, indeed, two or three times back and forth from end to end. Finally, with a sigh of content, she settled herself to sleep on the bag.
Downstairs in Miss Polly herself was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and frightened. A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice to Timothy:
“Come up quick! – you and your father. Bring lanterns. Somebody is on the roof of the sun parlor. And he can get right into the house through the east window in the attic!”
Some time later, Pollyanna was startled by a lantern flash. She opened her eyes to find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom just getting through the window, and her aunt looking at her in surprise.
“Pollyanna, what does this mean?” cried Aunt Polly then.
“Why, Mr. Tom – Aunt Polly! Don’t look so scared!”
Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. Old Tom handed his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son. Miss Polly said sternly:
“Pollyanna, hand those things to me at once and come in here!” she ejaculated a little later, as, with Pollyanna by her side, and the lantern in her hand, she turned back into the attic.
At the top of the stairs Miss Polly said:
“For the rest of the night, Pollyanna, you are to sleep in my bed with me. I consider it my duty to keep you where I know where you are.”
“With you? – in your bed?” Pollyanna cried rapturously. “Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely of you! And when I’ve so wanted to sleep with someone sometime – someone that belonged to me, you know.”
There was no reply. Miss Polly, to tell the truth, was feeling curiously helpless. For the third time since Pollyanna’s arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Pollyanna – and for the third time she was being confronted with the amazing fact that her punishment was being taken as a special reward of merit. No wonder Miss Polly was feeling curiously helpless.
