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

“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.

“But it don’t seem possible-her and a lover,” still maintained Nancy.

Old Tom shook his head.

“You didn’t know Miss Polly as I did,” he argued. “She used ter be real handsome-and she would be now, if she’d let herself be.”

“Handsome! Miss Polly!”

“Yes. If she’d just let that tight hair of hern all out loose and careless-like, as it used ter be, and wear the sort of bunnits with posies in �em, and the kind o’ dresses all lace and white things-you’d see she’d be handsome! Miss Polly ain’t old, Nancy.

“Ain’t she, though? Well, then she’s got an awfully good imitation of it-she has, she has!” sniffed Nancy.

“Yes, I know. It begun then-at the time of the trouble with her lover,” nodded Old Tom; “and it seems as if she’d been feedin’ on wormwood an’ thistles ever since-she’s that bitter an’ prickly ter deal with.

“I should say she was,” declared Nancy, indignantly. “There’s no pleasin’ her, nohow, no matter how you try! I wouldn’t stay if �twa’n’t for the wages and the folks at home what’s needin’ �em. But some day-some day I shall jest b’ile over; and when I do, of course it’ll be good-by Nancy for me. It will, it will.”

Old Tom shook his head.

“I know. I’ve felt it.