Pollyanna: Chapters 1–10

Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she specially prided herself on her repose of manner.

Nancy had come from "The Corners," six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as the mistress of the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest residents of the town.

"However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I am a good woman, I hope; and I know my duty."

"Of course, ma'am; it was only that I thought a little girl here might--might brighten things up for you," she faltered.

Dear Madam:--I regret to inform you that the Rev. John Whittier died two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old.

As she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her thoughts went back to her sister, Jennie, who had been this child's mother, and to the time when Jennie, as a girl of twenty, had insisted upon marrying the young minister, in spite of her family's remonstrances.

There were people who had openly pitied her lonely life, and who had urged her to have some friend or companion to live with her; but she had not welcomed either their sympathy or their advice.

"She was an angel straight out of Heaven," breathed the man, fervently; "but the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter."

Today, however, Nancy was too full of her mission to be her usual talkative self; and almost in silence she took the drive to the station and alighted to wait for the train.

"I hope for her sake she's quiet and sensible, and don't drop knives nor bang doors," she sighed to Timothy, who had sauntered up to her.

The three were off at last, with Pollyanna's trunk in behind, and Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy.

"You--you aren't?" stammered the little girl, in plain dismay.

"Fun!--fun!" repeated Nancy, indignantly, "I guess it'll be somethin' more than fun for that blessed child--when them two tries ter live tergether; and I guess she'll be a-needin' some rock ter fly to for refuge. Well, I'm a-goin' ter be that rock, Timothy; I am, I am!" she vowed, as she turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps.

"Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not so far forget myself as to be sinfully proud of any gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me," declared the lady; "certainly not, of riches!"

Now--with this evident strain of vanity showing thus early--it was all the more fortunate that the room planned for her was plain and sensible, thought Miss Polly.

For a minute she listened intently; then she turned and swept into the dining room.

I told her what time supper was, and now she will have to suffer the consequences. She may as well begin at once to learn to be punctual.

"You don't seem ter see any trouble bein' glad about everythin'," retorted Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna's brave attempts to like the bare little attic room.

"Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about--no matter what 'twas," rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly.

"I reckon maybe they're my flies, Aunt Polly," observed Pollyanna, amiably.

With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned toward the closet.

With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna.

Nevertheless I think it is my duty to see that you are properly instructed in at least the rudiments of music.

"I shall, of course, procure a teacher at once for you," she finished decisively, as she arose from her chair.

"Very well; then see that you don't act ungrateful," vouchsafed Miss Polly, as she turned toward the door.

Aunt Polly emitted a tired sigh--a sigh that ascended straight to Pollyanna's ears.

With a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness to the right and to the left, Pollyanna drew a quick breath and pattered straight into that silvery path, and on to the window.

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.

It was not long before life at the Harrington homestead settled into something like order--though not exactly the order that Miss Polly had at first prescribed.

When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner, the man stopped abruptly.

If folks wa'n't sorry for her there wouldn't a soul go near her from mornin' till night, she's that cantankerous. All is, I pity her daughter what has ter take care of her.

For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, deftly, combing a refractory curl into fluffiness, perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or shaking a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have a better pose.

"That little thing has got a knack with hair and no mistake," she muttered under her breath.

"It isn't so nice today, is it?" she called blithesomely.

She thought it particularly necessary to do this, anyway, for the Man was striding along, his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the ground--which seemed, to Pollyanna, preposterous in the face of the glorious sunshine and the freshly-washed morning air

"Very poorly, thank you," murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into her usual listless attitude.

Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss--a proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss Polly

"I love company," said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she were dispensing the hospitality of a palace; "specially since I've had this room, all mine, you know.

At the imminent risk of being dashed headlong, she was flying downstairs, two steps at a time.

Miss Polly spoke sternly, all the more sternly because, for some inexplicable reason, she felt inclined to cry--and Miss Polly was not used to feeling inclined to cry.