Dr. Chilton

           ThegreatgraypileofmasonrylookedverydifferenttoPollyannawhenshemadehersecondvisittothehouseofMr.JohnPendleton. Windowswereopen,anelderlywomanwashangingoutclothesinthebackyard,andthedoctor’sgigstoodundertheporte-cochere. 

           AsbeforePollyannawenttothesidedoor. Thistimesherangthebell—herfingerswerenotstiffto-dayfromatightclutchonabunchofkeys. 

           Afamiliar-lookingsmalldogboundedupthestepstogreether,buttherewasaslightdelaybeforethewomanwhohadbeenhangingouttheclothesopenedthedoor. 

           "Ifyouplease,I’vebroughtsomecalf’s-footjellyforMr.Pendleton,"smiledPollyanna. 

           "Thankyou,"saidthewoman,reachingforthebowlinthelittlegirl’shand. "WhoshallIsaysentit? Andit’scalf’s-footjelly?" 

           Thedoctor,comingintothehallatthatmoment,heardthewoman’swordsandsawthedisappointedlookonPollyanna’sface. Hesteppedquicklyforward. 

           "Ah!Somecalf’s-footjelly?"heaskedgenially. "Thatwillbefine! Maybeyou’dliketoseeourpatient,eh?" 

           "Oh,yes,sir,"beamedPollyanna; andthewoman,inobediencetoanodfromthedoctor,ledthewaydownthehallatonce,thoughplainlywithvastsurpriseonherface. 

           Behindthedoctor,ayoungman(atrainednursefromthenearestcity)gaveadisturbedexclamation. 

           "But,Doctor,didn’tMr.Pendletongiveordersnottoadmit—anyone?"