Поллианна
In Pendleton woods
Pollyannacaughtherbreath. Inspiteofherfeelingofhaste,shepausedamomentandlookedfearfullythroughthevestibuletothewide,sombrehallbeyond,herthoughtsinawhirl. ThiswasJohnPendleton’shouse; thehouseofmystery; thehouseintowhichnoonebutitsmasterentered; thehousewhichsheltered,somewhere—askeleton. Yetshe,Pollyanna,wasexpectedtoenteralonethesefearsomerooms,andtelephonethedoctorthatthemasterofthehouselaynow—
WithalittlecryPollyanna,lookingneithertotherightnortheleft,fairlyranthroughthehalltothedoorattheendandopenedit.
Theroomwaslarge,andsombrewithdarkwoodsandhangingslikethehall; butthroughthewestwindowthesunthrewalongshaftofgoldacrossthefloor,gleameddullyonthetarnishedbrassandironsinthefireplace,andtouchedthenickelofthetelephoneonthegreatdeskinthemiddleoftheroom. ItwastowardthisdeskthatPollyannahurriedlytiptoed.
Thetelephonecardwasnotonitshook; itwasonthefloor. ButPollyannafoundit,andranhershakingforefingerdownthroughtheC’sto"Chilton." InduetimeshehadDr.Chiltonhimselfattheotherendofthewires,andwastremblinglydeliveringhermessageandansweringthedoctor’sterse,pertinentquestions. Thisdone,shehungupthereceiveranddrewalongbreathofrelief. OnlyabriefglancedidPollyannagiveabouther; then,withaconfusedvisioninhereyesofcrimsondraperies,book-linedwalls,alitteredfloor,anuntidydesk,innumerablecloseddoors(anyoneofwhichmightconcealaskeleton),andeverywheredust,dust,dust,shefledbackthroughthehalltothegreatcarveddoor,stillhalfopenasshehadleftit.
