Поллианна

           OldTomshookhishead. 

           "Youdidn’tknowMissPollyasIdid,"heargued. "Sheusedterberealhandsome—andshewouldbenow,ifshe’dletherselfbe." 

           "Handsome!MissPolly!" 

           "Yes. Ifshe’djustletthattighthairofhernalloutlooseandcareless-like,asitusedterbe,andwearthesortofbunnitswithposiesin‘em,andthekindo’dressesalllaceandwhitethings—you’dseeshe’dbehandsome! MissPollyain’told,Nancy." 

           "Ain’tshe,though? Well,thenshe’sgotanawfullygoodimitationofit—shehas,shehas!"sniffedNancy. 

           "Yes,Iknow. Itbegunthen—atthetimeofthetroublewithherlover,"noddedOldTom; "anditseemsasifshe’dbeenfeedin’onwormwoodan’thistleseversince—she’sthatbitteran’pricklyterdealwith." 

           "Ishouldsayshewas,"declaredNancy,indignantly. "There’snopleasin’her,nohow,nomatterhowyoutry! Iwouldn’tstayif‘twa’n’tforthewagesandthefolksathomewhat’sneedin’‘em. Butsomeday—somedayIshalljestb’ileover; andwhenIdo,ofcourseit’llbegood-byNancyforme. Itwill,itwill."