Поллианна
The Game and its players
"I’lltellye,ma’am. It’sagameMissPollyanna’sfatherlearnedherterplay. Shegotapairofcrutchesonceinamissionarybarrelwhenshewaswantin’adoll; an’shecried,ofcourse,likeanychildwould. Itseems‘twasthenherfathertoldherthattherewasn’teveranythin’butwhattherewassomethin’aboutitthatyoucouldbegladabout; an’thatshecouldbegladaboutthemcrutches."
"Gladfor—CRUTCHES!" MissPollychokedbackasob—shewasthinkingofthehelplesslittlelegsonthebedup-stairs.
"Yes’m. That’swhatIsaid,an’MissPollyannasaidthat’swhatshesaid,too. ButhetoldhersheCOULDbeglad—‘causesheDIDN’TNEED‘EM."
"Oh-h!"criedMissPolly.
"Andafterthatshesaidhemadearegulargameofit—findin’somethin’ineverythin’terbegladabout. An’shesaidyecoulddoit,too,andthatyedidn’tseemtermindnothavin’thedollsomuch,‘causeyewassogladyeDIDN’Tneedthecrutches. An’theycalleditthe‘jestbein’glad’game. That’sthegame,ma’am. She’splayediteversince."
"But,how—how—"MissPollycametoahelplesspause.
