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Е. Г. Тигонен

“Ain’t she, though? Well, then she’s got an awfully good imitation of it – she has, she has!” sniffed Nancy.

“Yes, I know. It begun then – at the time of the trouble with her lover,” nodded Old Tom; “and it seems as if she’d been feedin’ on wormwood an’ thistles ever since – she’s that bitter an’ prickly ter deal with.”

“I should say she was,” declared Nancy, indignantly. “There’s no pleasin’ her, nohow, no matter how you try! I wouldn’t stay if ’twa’n’t for the wages and the folks at home what’s needin’ ’em. But some day – some day I shall jest b’ile over; and when I do, of course it’ll be good-by Nancy for me. It will, it will.”

Old Tom shook his head.

“I know. I’ve felt it. It’s nart’ral – but ’tain’t best, child; ’tain’t best. Take my word for it, ’tain’t best.” And again he bent his old head to the work before him.

“Nancy!” called a sharp voice.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.

Chapter III

The Coming of Pollyanna

In due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive in Beldingsville the next day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o’clock. Miss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the attic room. She still frowned as she looked about her.

The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau – without any mirror – and a small table. There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and down, up and down, trying to get out.

Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window (raising the sash an inch for the purpose), straightened a chair, frowned again, and left the room.

“Nancy,” she said a few minutes later, at the kitchen door, “I found a fly up-stairs in Miss Pollyanna’s room. The window must have been raised at some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall expect you to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive to-morrow at four o’clock. I desire you to meet her at the station. Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says ‘Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.’ That is all I know, but I think it is sufficient for your purpose.”

“Yes, ma’am; but – you – ”

Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said crisply:

“No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is all.” And she turned away – Miss Polly’s arrangements for the comfort of her niece, Pollyanna, were complete.

In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flat-iron with a vicious dig across the dish-towel she was ironing.

“‘Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat’ – all she knows, indeed! Well, I’d be ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would – and her my onliest niece what was a-comin’ from ’way across the continent!”