Поллианна
An Accident
Pollyannashookherhead.
"No,Sir; thankyou,Sir,"shemurmuredsoberly,assheturnedtowardthedoor. Fromthelittlehallwayshecalledback,herfacesuddenlyalight:"Anyhow,I’mglad‘twasn’tmymother’shandandheartthatyouwantedandcouldn’tget,Dr.Chilton. Good-by!"
ItwasonthelastdayofOctoberthattheaccidentoccurred. Pollyanna,hurryinghomefromschool,crossedtheroadatanapparentlysafedistanceinfrontofaswiftlyapproachingmotorcar.
Justwhathappened,noonecouldseemtotellafterward. Neitherwasthereanyonefoundwhocouldtellwhyithappenedorwhowastoblamethatitdidhappen. Pollyanna,however,atfiveo’clock,wasborne,limpandunconscious,intothelittleroomthatwassodeartoher. There,byawhite-facedAuntPollyandaweepingNancyshewasundressedtenderlyandputtobed,whilefromthevillage,hastilysummonedbytelephone,Dr.Warrenwashurryingasfastasanothermotorcarcouldbringhim.
"Andyedidn’tneedtermore’nlookatheraunt’sface,"NancywassobbingtoOldTominthegarden,afterthedoctorhadarrivedandwasclosetedinthehushedroom; "yedidn’tneedtermore’nlookatheraunt’sfaceterseethat‘twa’n’tnodutythatwaseatin’her. Yerhandsdon’tshake,andyereyesdon’tlookasifyewastryin’terholdbacktheAngelo’Deathhimself,whenyou’rejestdoin’yerDUTY,Mr.Tomtheydon’t,theydon’t!"
