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A question of duty

           JustintimePollyannarememberedthatshewasnottotalkofherfathertoheraunt. Shedivedintoherclosetthen,hurriedly,andbroughtoutallthepoorlittledressesinbothherarms. 

           "Theyaren’tnice,atall,"shechoked,"andthey’dbeenblackifithadn’tbeenfortheredcarpetforthechurch; butthey’reallI’vegot." 

           WiththetipsofherfingersMissPollyturnedovertheconglomerategarments,soobviouslymadeforanybodybutPollyanna. Nextshebestowedfrowningattentiononthepatchedundergarmentsinthebureaudrawers. 

           "I’vegotthebestoneson,"confessedPollyanna,anxiously. "TheLadies’Aidboughtmeonesetstraightthroughallwhole. Mrs.Jonesshe’sthepresidenttold‘emIshouldhavethatiftheyhadtoclatterdownbareaislesthemselvestherestoftheirdays. Buttheywon’t. Mr.Whitedoesn’tlikethenoise. He’sgotnerves,hiswifesays; buthe’sgotmoney,too,andtheyexpecthe’llgivealottowardthecarpetonaccountofthenerves,youknow. Ishouldthinkhe’dbegladthatifhedidhavethenerveshe’dgotmoney,too; shouldn’tyou?" 

           MissPollydidnotseemtohear. Herscrutinyoftheundergarmentsfinished,sheturnedtoPollyannasomewhatabruptly. 

           "Youhavebeentoschool,ofcourse,Pollyanna?" 

           "Oh,yes,AuntPolly. Besides,fathImean,Iwastaughtathomesome,too." 

           MissPollyfrowned. 

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Roboto Lora
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