Pollyanna: The First Glad Book. Pollyanna Grows Up: The Second Glad Book / Поллианна. Поллианна вырастает. Элинор Портер
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Pollyanna: The First Glad Book. Pollyanna Grows Up: The Second Glad Book / Поллианна. Поллианна вырастает - Элинор Портер страница 22
“The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.”
Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair.
“JOHN PENDLETON!”
“Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you know him.”
Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she asked:
“Do YOU know him?”
Pollyanna nodded.
“Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles-now. He’s only cross OUTSIDE, you know. I’ll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it ‘most fixed when I came in,” finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room.
“Pollyanna, wait!” Miss Polly’s voice was suddenly very stern. “I’ve changed my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly today-as usual. That is all. You may go now.”
Pollyanna’s face fell.
“Oh, but Aunt Polly, HERS will last. She can always be sick and have things, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs don’t last-I mean, broken ones. He’s had it a whole week now.”
“Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident,” said Miss Polly, a little stiffly; “but-I do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna.”
“I know, he is cross-outside,” admitted Pollyanna, sadly, “so I suppose you don’t like him. But I wouldn’t say ‘twas you sent it. I’d say ‘twas me. I like him. I’d be glad to send him jelly.”
Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and asked in a curiously quiet voice:
“Does he know who you-are, Pollyanna?”
The little girl sighed.
“I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but he never calls me it-never.”
“Does he know where you-live?”
“Oh, no. I never told him that.”
“Then he doesn’t know you’re my-niece?”
“I don’t think so.”
For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem to see her at all. The little girl, shifting impatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly. Then Miss Polly roused herself with a start.
“Very well, Pollyanna,” she said at last, still in that queer voice, so unlike her own; “you may you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your own gift. But understand: I do not send it. Be very sure that he does not think I do!”
“Yes’m-no’m-thank you, Aunt Polly,” exulted Pollyanna, as she flew through the door.
Chapter XV
Dr. Chilton
The great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when she made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows were open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the back yard, and the doctor’s gig stood under the porte-cochere.
As before Pollyanna went to the side door. This time she rang the bell-her fingers were not stiff today from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys.
A familiar-looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her, but there was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the clothes opened the door.
“If you please, I’ve brought some calf’s-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” smiled Pollyanna.
“Thank you,” said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girl’s hand. “Who shall I say sent it? And it’s calf’s-foot jelly?”
The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the woman’s words and saw the disappointed look on Pollyanna’s face. He stepped quickly forward.
“Ah! Some calf’s-foot jelly?” he asked genially. “That will be fine! Maybe you’d like to see our patient, eh?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna; and the woman, in obedience to a nod from the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with vast surprise on her face.
Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city) gave a disturbed exclamation.
“But, Doctor, didn’t Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit-anyone?”
“Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor, imperturbably. “But I’m giving orders now. I’ll take the risk.” Then he added whimsically: “You don’t know, of course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic any day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, she can. That’s why I sent her in.”
“Who is she?”
For one brief moment the doctor hesitated.
“She’s the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. I–I don’t happen to enjoy a very extensive personal acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients do-I’m thankful to say!”
The nurse smiled.
“Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this wonder-working-tonic of hers?”
The doctor shook his head.
“I don’t know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming, unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to happen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated to me, and, as near as I can make out, ‘just being glad’ is the tenor of most of them. All is,” he added, with another whimsical smile, as he stepped out on to the porch, “I wish I could prescribe her-and buy her-as I would a box of pills;-though if there gets to be many of her in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and ditch-digging for all the money we’d get out of nursing and doctoring,” he laughed, picking up the reins and stepping into the gig.
Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor’s orders, was being escorted to John Pendleton’s rooms.
Her way led through the great library at the end of the hall, and, rapid as was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes had taken place. The book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the same; but there was no litter on the floor, no untidiness on the desk, and not so much as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card hung in its proper place, and the brass andirons had been polished. One of the mysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the way. A moment later Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished bedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice:
“If you please, sir, here-here’s a little girl with some jelly. The doctor said I was to-to bring her in.”
The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking man lying flat on his back in bed.
“See here, didn’t I say-” began an angry voice. “Oh, it’s you!” it broke off not