Поллианна

           OnapleasantThursdaymorningPollyannahadbeentakingcalf’s-footjellyagaintoMrs.Snow. Mrs.SnowandPollyannawerethebestoffriendsnow. TheirfriendshiphadstartedfromthethirdvisitPollyannahadmade,theoneaftershehadtoldMrs.Snowofthegame. Mrs.Snowherselfwasplayingthegamenow,withPollyanna. Tobesure,shewasnotplayingitverywell—shehadbeensorryforeverythingforsolong,thatitwasnoteasytobegladforanythingnow. ButunderPollyanna’scheeryinstructionsandmerrylaughterathermistakes,shewaslearningfast. To-day,even,toPollyanna’shugedelight,shehadsaidthatshewasgladPollyannabroughtcalf’s-footjelly,becausethatwasjustwhatshehadbeenwanting—shedidnotknowthatMilly,atthefrontdoor,hadtoldPollyannathattheminister’swifehadalreadythatdaysentoveragreatbowlfulofthatsamekindofjelly. 

           Pollyannawasthinkingofthisnowwhensuddenlyshesawtheboy. 

           Theboywassittinginadisconsolatelittleheapbytheroadside,whittlinghalf-heartedlyatasmallstick. 

           "Hullo,"smiledPollyanna,engagingly. 

           Theboyglancedup,buthelookedawayagain,atonce. 

           "Hulloyourself,"hemumbled. 

           Pollyannalaughed. 

           "Nowyoudon’tlookasifyou’dbegladevenforcalf’s-footjelly,"shechuckled,stoppingbeforehim. 

           Theboystirredrestlessly,gaveherasurprisedlook,andbegantowhittleagainathisstick,withthedull,broken-bladedknifeinhishand.