Полліанна
A waiting Game
"Oh,yes. Shetoldmelongago." Theoldmanhesitated,thenwenton,hislipstwitchingalittle. "Iwasgrowlin’oneday‘causeIwassobentupandcrooked; an’whatdoyes’posethelittlethingsaid?"
"Icouldn’tguess. Iwouldn’tthinkshecouldfindANYTHIN’aboutTHATterbegladabout!"
"Shedid. ShesaidIcouldbeglad,anyhow,thatIdidn’thaveterSTOOPSOFARTERDOMYWEEDIN’‘causeIwasalreadybentpartwayover."
Nancygaveawistfullaugh.
"Well,Iain’tsurprised,afterall. Youmightknowshe’dfindsomethin’. We’vebeenplayin’it—thatgame—sincealmostthefirst,‘causetherewa’n’tnooneelseshecouldplayitwith—thoughshedidspeakof—heraunt."
"MISSPOLLY!"
Nancychuckled.
"Iguessyouhain’tgotsuchanawfuldiff’rentopiniono’themistressthanIhave,"shebridled.
OldTomstiffened.
"Iwasonlythinkin’‘twouldbe—someofasurprise—toher,"heexplainedwithdignity.
"Well,yes,Iguess‘twouldbe—THEN,"retortedNancy. "Iain’tsayin’what‘twouldbeNOW. I’dbelieveanythin’o’themistressnow—eventhatshe’dtaketerplayin’itherself!"
"Buthain’tthelittlegaltoldher—ever? She’stoldev’ryoneelse,Iguess. I’mhearin’ofitev’rywhere,now,sinceshewashurted,"saidTom.