Поллианна
The little attic room
Nancy’scapablehandsmadeshortworkofunpackingthebooks,thepatchedundergarments,andthefewpitifullyunattractivedresses. Pollyanna,smilingbravelynow,flewabout,hangingthedressesinthecloset,stackingthebooksonthetable,andputtingawaytheundergarmentsinthebureaudrawers.
"I’msureit—it’sgoingtobeaveryniceroom. Don’tyouthinkso?"shestammered,afterawhile.
Therewasnoanswer. Nancywasverybusy,apparently,withherheadinthetrunk. Pollyanna,standingatthebureau,gazedalittlewistfullyatthebarewallabove.
"AndIcanbegladthereisn’tanylooking-glasshere,too,‘causewherethereISN’TanyglassIcan’tseemyfreckles."
Nancymadeasuddenqueerlittlesoundwithhermouth—butwhenPollyannaturned,herheadwasinthetrunkagain. Atoneofthewindows,afewminuteslater,Pollyannagaveagladcryandclappedherhandsjoyously.
"Oh,Nancy,Ihadn’tseenthisbefore,"shebreathed. "Look—‘wayoffthere,withthosetreesandthehousesandthatlovelychurchspire,andtherivershiningjustlikesilver. Why,Nancy,theredoesn’tanybodyneedanypictureswiththattolookat. Oh,I’msogladnowsheletmehavethisroom!"
ToPollyanna’ssurpriseanddismay,Nancyburstintotears. Pollyannahurriedlycrossedtoherside.
