Поллианна
A question of duty
Thebentoldmanturnedhisbacksuddenly. MissPollyattemptedafrown—withnotherusualsuccess. "Pollyanna,you—IThomas,thatwilldoforthismorning. Ithinkyouunderstand—aboutthoserose-bushes,"shesaidstiffly. Thensheturnedandwalkedrapidlyaway.
"Doyoualwaysworkinthegarden,Mr.—Man?"askedPollyanna,interestedly.
Themanturned. Hislipsweretwitching,buthiseyeslookedblurredasifwithtears.
"Yes,Miss. I’mOldTom,thegardener,"heanswered. Timidly,butasifimpelledbyanirresistibleforce,hereachedoutashakinghandandletitrestforamomentonherbrighthair. "Youaresolikeyourmother,littleMiss! Iusedterknowherwhenshewasevenlittlerthanyoube. Yousee,Iusedterworkinthegarden—then."
Pollyannacaughtherbreathaudibly.
"Youdid? Andyouknewmymother,really—whenshewasjustalittleearthangel,andnotaHeavenone? Oh,pleasetellmeabouther!" AnddownplumpedPollyannainthemiddleofthedirtpathbytheoldman’sside.
Abellsoundedfromthehouse. ThenextmomentNancywasseenflyingoutthebackdoor.
"MissPollyanna,thatbellmeansbreakfast—mornin’s,"shepanted,pullingthelittlegirltoherfeetandhurryingherbacktothehouse; "andothertimesitmeansothermeals. Butitalwaysmeansthatyou’reterrunliketimewhenyehearit,nomatterwhereyebe. Ifyedon’t—well,it’lltakesomethin’smarter’nwebeterfindANYTHIN’terbegladaboutinthat!"shefinished,shooingPollyannaintothehouseasshewouldshooanunrulychickenintoacoop.
