Pollyanna: The First Glad Book. Pollyanna Grows Up: The Second Glad Book / Поллианна. Поллианна вырастает

Snow was poor, sick, and a member of her church-it was the duty of all the church members to look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow usually on Thursday afternoons-not personally, but through Nancy. To-day Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given it to her in accordance with Miss Polly’s orders.

“And it’s glad that I am ter get rid of it,” Nancy had declared in private afterwards to Pollyanna; “though it’s a shame ter be tuckin’ the job off on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!”

“But I’d love to do it, Nancy.

”

“Well, you won’t-after you’ve done it once,” predicted Nancy, sourly.

“Why not?”

“Because nobody does. 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.”

“But, why, Nancy?”

Nancy shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, in plain words, it’s just that nothin’ what ever has happened, has happened right in Mis’ Snow’s eyes.

Even the days of the week ain’t run ter her mind. If it’s Monday she’s bound ter say she wished �twas Sunday; and if you take her jelly you’re pretty sure ter hear she wanted chicken-but if you DID bring her chicken, she’d be jest hankerin’ for lamb broth!”

“Why, what a funny woman,” laughed Pollyanna. “I think I shall like to go to see her. She must be so surprising and-and different. I love DIFFERENT folks.

”

“Humph! Well, Mis’ Snow’s �different,’ all right-I hope, for the sake of the rest of us!” Nancy had finished grimly.

Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks today as she turned in at the gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite sparkling, indeed, at the prospect of meeting this “different” Mrs. Snow.

A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the door.

“How do you do?” began Pollyanna politely. “I’m from Miss Polly Harrington, and I’d like to see Mrs.

Snow, please.”

“Well, if you would, you’re the first one that ever �liked’ to see her,” muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. The girl had turned and was leading the way through the hall to a door at the end of it.

In the sickroom, after the girl had ushered her in and closed the door, Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom her eyes to the gloom.