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The little attic room
"Yes; well,nevermindnowwhatyourfathersaid,"interruptedMissPolly,crisply. "Youhadatrunk,Ipresume?" "Oh,yes,indeed,AuntPolly. I’vegotabeautifultrunkthattheLadies’Aidgaveme. Ihaven’tgotsoverymuchinit—ofmyown,Imean. Thebarrelshaven’thadmanyclothesforlittlegirlsinthemlately; buttherewereallfather’sbooks,andMrs.WhitesaidshethoughtIoughttohavethose. Yousee,father—"
"Pollyanna,"interruptedherauntagain,sharply,"thereisonethingthatmightjustaswellbeunderstoodrightawayatonce; andthatis,Idonotcaretohaveyoukeeptalkingofyourfathertome."
Thelittlegirldrewinherbreathtremulously.
"Why,AuntPolly,you—youmean—" Shehesitated,andherauntfilledthepause.
"Wewillgoup-stairstoyourroom. Yourtrunkisalreadythere,Ipresume. ItoldTimothytotakeitup—ifyouhadone. Youmayfollowme,Pollyanna."
Withoutspeaking,Pollyannaturnedandfollowedherauntfromtheroom. Hereyeswerebrimmingwithtears,butherchinwasbravelyhigh.
"Afterall,I—IreckonI’mgladshedoesn’twantmetotalkaboutfather,"Pollyannawasthinking. "It’llbeeasier,maybe—ifIdon’ttalkabouthim. Probably,anyhow,thatiswhyshetoldmenottotalkabouthim." AndPollyanna,convincedanewofheraunt’s"kindness,"blinkedoffthetearsandlookedeagerlyabouther.