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In Pendleton woods
"NevermindAuntPollynow,"cutinthemanscowlingly,ashetriedtomovehimselfalittle. "HuntupDr.ThomasChilton’snumberonthecardyou’llfindsomewherearoundthere—itoughttobeonthehookdownattheside,butitprobablywon’tbe. Youknowatelephonecard,Isuppose,whenyouseeone!"
"Oh,yes,sir! IjustloveAuntPolly’s. There’ssuchalotofqueernames,and—"
"TellDr.ChiltonthatJohnPendletonisatthefootofLittleEagleLedgeinPendletonWoodswithabrokenleg,andtocomeatoncewithastretcherandtwomen. He’llknowwhattodobesidesthat. Tellhimtocomebythepathfromthehouse."
"Abrokenleg? Oh,Mr.Pendleton,howperfectlyawful!"shudderedPollyanna. "ButI’msogladIcame! Can’tIdo—"
"Yes,youcan—butevidentlyyouwon’t! WILLyougoanddowhatIaskandstoptalking,"moanedtheman,faintly. And,withalittlesobbingcry,Pollyannawent.
Pollyannadidnotstopnowtolookupatthepatchesofbluebetweenthesunlittopsofthetrees. Shekepthereyesonthegroundtomakesurethatnotwignorstonetrippedherhurryingfeet.
Itwasnotlongbeforeshecameinsightofthehouse. Shehadseenitbefore,thoughneversonearasthis. Shewasalmostfrightenednowatthemassivenessofthegreatpileofgraystonewithitspillaredverandasanditsimposingentrance. Pausingonlyamoment,however,shespedacrossthebigneglectedlawnandaroundthehousetothesidedoorundertheporte-cochere. Herfingers,stifffromtheirtightclutchuponthekeys,wereanythingbutskilfulintheireffortstoturntheboltinthelock; butatlasttheheavy,carveddoorswungslowlybackonitshinges.