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"It's the little girl from Miss Polly's, mother," announced Milly, in a tired manner; then Pollyanna found herself alone with the invalid. "Oh, it's you, is it?" asked a fretful voice from the bed. "I remember you. ANYbody'd remember you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you had come yesterday. I WANTED you yesterday." "Did you?
"You'll talk and laugh," David fretted on, "till he'll think you're dead in love with him! You jolly with all the boys more than you do with me!" Polly's face sobered. "David," she said, "in some things you are wonderfully wise; but you don't seem to know very much about girls. I am not always the happiest when I'm laughing.
Polly's uncle, Mr. Pendleton, and Dr. Farwell, had come up on visits when they could. Bob, Lois' big brother, had come, too, but less frequently of late. He was at college now and working very hard. They had made new friends, but, what is more important, they had kept their old ones. This well ordered way of living, however, had to change.
His outlay that summer ever since the day on which he had set off to the aid of his bereaved relative had been enormous. Trade had run dry, and throughout Polly's long illness he had dipped blindly into his savings. He could never have said no to Mrs. Beamish when she came to him for money rather would he have pawned the coat off his back. And she, good woman, was unused to cheeseparing.
I thought I'd see you first and maybe you'd give me a little note of introduction you know Mr. Randolph so well, and I never spoke to him." "Certainly I will! I'll go right and do it now! Chris will want to see you I'll send him out." The note that Doodles carried away with him was in Polly's best style. Dear Mr.
It was the night of the Masqueraders' Show. The auditorium was packed, for Annapolis was thronged with the relatives of the graduating class as well as hundreds of visitors. Among others were Polly Howland's mother, her married sister Constance, and her brother-in-law, Harry Hunter, now an ensign. They had been married at Polly's home in Montgentian, N.J., almost a year ago.
Next came brave old Hero pulling a little cart. In the cart were Snowball, Fluff, and Muff and what was left of Daddy's hat. Dot marched beside the cart. After them came Dandy. Paul was walking by his side and holding something on his back. It was Polly's cage with the black cover off. Pretty Poll was peeping from behind the wires. She looked surprised and a little bit frightened.
Marner, who had never for a Varley girl been strong, faded rapidly away; and Polly's stay at home, intended at first to last but a few weeks, until its mother was about again, extended into months. The failing woman reaped now the benefit of Polly's training.
Peggy in one pretty little white bed and Polly in the one beside it were carrying on a lively whispered conversation. "Well, we're here," was Polly's undisputable statement as she snuggled down under her bed-covers, "and now that we are what do you think of it?" "I'm glad we've come.
Many emigrants left the train when they got to the great Sacramento River valley, and settled here and there to farming. Polly's father with others kept on to the gold-diggings and camped there. He built a log-cabin soon, for it was almost winter and time for the rains, and Polly says she was glad to have a house at last.
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