she would take the child, of course. She hoped she knew her duty well enough for that! – disagreeable as the task would be.
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 had been a man of wealth who had wanted her – and the family had much preferred him to the minister; but Jennie had not. The man of wealth had more years, as well as more money, to his credit, while the minister had only a young head full of youth’s ideals and enthusiasm, and a heart full of love. Jennie had preferred these – quite naturally, perhaps; so she had married the minister, and had gone south with him as a home missionary’s wife.
The break had come then. Miss Polly remembered it well, though she had been but a girl of fifteen, the youngest, at the time. The family had had little more to do with the missionary’s wife. To be sure, Jennie herself had written, for a time, and had named her last baby “Pollyanna” for her two sisters, Polly and Anna – the other babies had all died. This had been the last time that Jennie had written; and in a few years there had come the news of her death, told in a short, but heart-broken little note from the minister himself, dated at a little town in the West.
Meanwhile, time had not stood still for the occupants of the great house on the hill. Miss Polly, looking out at the far-reaching valley below, thought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her.
She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. Father, mother, sisters – all were dead. For years, now, she had been sole mistress of the house and of the thousands left her by her father. 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 not lonely, she said. She liked being by herself. She preferred quiet. But now—
Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely-shut lips. She was glad, of course, that she was a good woman, and that she not only knew her duty, but had sufficient strength of character to perform it. But – Pollyanna! – what a ridiculous name!
In the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed vigorously, paying particular attention to the corners. There were times, indeed, when the vigor she put into her work was more of a relief to her feelings than it was an ardor to efface dirt – Nancy, in spite of her frightened submission to her mistress, was no saint.
“I—just—wish—I could—dig—out the corners—of—her—soul!” she muttered jerkily, punctuating her words with murderous jabs of her pointed cleaning-stick. “There’s plenty of ’em needs cleanin’ all right, all right! The idea of stickin’ that blessed child ’way off up here in this hot little room – with no fire in the winter, too, and all this big house ter pick and choose from! Unnecessary children, indeed! Humph!” snapped Nancy, wringing her rag so hard her fingers ached from the strain; “I guess it ain’t children what is most unnecessary just now, just now!”
For some time she worked in silence; then, her task finished, she looked about the bare little room in plain disgust.
“Well, it’s done – my part, anyhow,” she sighed. “There ain’t no dirt here – and there’s mighty little else. Poor little soul! – a pretty place this is ter put a homesick, lonesome child into!” she finished, going out and closing the door with a bang, “Oh!” she ejaculated, biting her lip. Then, doggedly: “Well, I don’t care. I hope she did hear the bang, – I do, I do!”
In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to interview Old Tom, who had pulled the weeds and shovelled the paths about the place for uncounted years.
“Mr. Tom,” began Nancy, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved; “did you know a little girl was comin’ here ter live with Miss Polly?”
“A – what?” demanded the old man, straightening his bent back with difficulty.
“A little girl – to live with Miss Polly.”
“Go on with yer jokin’,” scoffed unbelieving Tom. “Why don’t ye tell me the sun is a-goin’ ter set in the east ter-morrer?”
“But it’s true. She told me so herself,” maintained Nancy. “It’s her niece; and she’s eleven years old.”
The man’s jaw fell.
“Sho! – I wonder, now,” he muttered; then a tender light came into his faded eyes. “It ain’t – but it must be – Miss Jennie’s little gal! There wasn’t none of the rest of ’em married. Why, Nancy, it must be Miss Jennie’s little gal. Glory be ter praise! ter think of my old eyes a-seein’ this!”
“Who was Miss Jennie?”
“She was an angel straight out of Heaven,” breathed the man, fervently; “but the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter. She was twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her babies all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be the one what’s a-comin’.”
“She’s eleven years old.”
“Yes, she might be,” nodded the old man.
“And she’s goin’ ter sleep in the attic – more shame ter her!” scolded Nancy, with another glance over her shoulder toward the house behind her.
Old Tom frowned. The next moment a curious smile curved his lips.
“I’m a-wonderin’ what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,” he said.
“Humph! Well, I’m a-wonderin’ what a child will do with Miss Polly in the house!” snapped Nancy.
The old man laughed.
“I’m afraid you ain’t fond of Miss Polly,” he grinned.
“As if ever anybody could be fond of her!” scorned Nancy.
Old Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began to work again.
“I guess maybe you didn’t know about Miss Polly’s love affair,” he said slowly.
“Love affair – her! No! – and I guess nobody else didn’t, neither.”
“Oh, yes they did,” nodded the old man. “And the feller’s livin’ ter-day – right in this town, too.”
“Who is he?”
“I ain’t a-tellin’ that. It ain’t fit that I should.” The old man drew himself erect. In his dim blue eyes, as he faced the house, there was the loyal servant’s honest pride in the family he has served and loved for long years.
“But it don’t seem possible – her and a lover,” still maintained Nancy.
Old Tom shook his head.
“You
