Поллианна

Prisms

           Pollyannastaredslightly; thenshedrewalongbreath. 

           "Oh,Iforgot. Youdon’tknowaboutthegame. Iremembernow." 

           "Supposeyoutellme,then." 

           AndthistimePollyannatoldhim. Shetoldhimthewholethingfromtheveryfirstfromthecrutchesthatshouldhavebeenadoll. Asshetalked,shedidnotlookathisface. Herrapteyeswerestillonthedancingflecksofcolorfromtheprismpendantsswayinginthesunlitwindow. 

           "Andthat’sall,"shesighed,whenshehadfinished. "AndnowyouknowwhyIsaidthesunwastryingtoplayitthatgame." 

           Foramomenttherewassilence. Thenalowvoicefromthebedsaidunsteadily: 

           "Perhaps; butI’mthinkingthattheveryfinestprismofthemallisyourself,Pollyanna." 

           "Oh,butIdon’tshowbeautifulredandgreenandpurplewhenthesunshinesthroughme,Mr.Pendleton!" 

           "Don’tyou?"smiledtheman. AndPollyanna,lookingintohisface,wonderedwhythereweretearsinhiseyes. 

           "No,"shesaid. Then,afteraminutesheaddedmournfully:"I’mafraid,Mr.Pendleton,thesundoesn’tmakeanythingbutfrecklesoutofme. AuntPollysaysitDOESmakethem!" 

           Themanlaughedalittle; andagainPollyannalookedathim:thelaughhadsoundedalmostlikeasob. 

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