Поллианна
The Game and its players
"But,Pollyanna,whatdidshemean?"
"Why,it’sthegame,and—" Pollyannastoppedshort,herfingerstoherlips.
"Whatgame?"
"N-nothingmuch,AuntPolly; thatis—Ican’ttellitunlessItellotherthingsthat—thatI’mnottospeakof."
ItwasonMissPolly’stonguetoquestionherniecefurther; buttheobviousdistressonthelittlegirl’sfacestayedthewordsbeforetheywereuttered.
NotlongafterMrs.Tarbell’svisit,theclimaxcame. Itcameintheshapeofacallfromacertainyoungwomanwithunnaturallypinkcheeksandabnormallyyellowhair; ayoungwomanwhoworehighheelsandcheapjewelry ;ayoungwomanwhomMissPollyknewverywellbyreputation—butwhomshewasangrilyamazedtomeetbeneaththeroofoftheHarringtonhomestead.
MissPollydidnotofferherhand. Shedrewback,indeed,assheenteredtheroom.
Thewomanroseatonce. Hereyeswereveryred,asifshehadbeencrying. Halfdefiantlysheaskedifshemight,foramoment,seethelittlegirl,Pollyanna.
MissPollysaidno.Shebegantosayitverysternly; butsomethinginthewoman’spleadingeyesmadeheraddthecivilexplanationthatnoonewasallowedyettoseePollyanna.
Thewomanhesitated; thenalittlebrusquelyshespoke. Herchinwasstillataslightlydefianttilt.
"MynameisMrs.Payson—Mrs.TomPayson. Ipresumeyou’veheardofme—mostofthegoodpeopleinthetownhave—andmaybesomeofthethingsyou’veheardain’ttrue. Butnevermindthat. It’saboutthelittlegirlIcame. Iheardabouttheaccident,and—anditbrokemeallup. LastweekIheardhowshecouldn’teverwalkagain,and—andIwishedIcouldgiveupmytwouselesslywelllegsforhers. She’ddomoregoodtrottingaroundon‘emonehourthanIcouldinahundredyears. Butnevermindthat. Legsain’talwaysgiventotheonewhocanmakethebestuseof‘em,Inotice."
