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Nancy,” Miss Polly said, “my niece will arrive tomorrow at four o’clock. You must meet her at the station. Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says ‘light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.’ That is all I know.”

Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and Nancy drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was Old Tom’s son. He was a good-natured youth, and a good-looking one, as well. The two were already good friends.

When they got to the station, Nancy hurried to a point where she could best watch the passengers. Over and over in her mind Nancy was saying it “light hair, red-checked dress, straw hat.” Over and over again she was wondering just what sort of child this Pollyanna was.

At last they saw her – the slender little girl in the red-checked gingham with two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her back. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled little face turned to the right and to the left, searching for some one.

“Are you Miss Pollyanna?” Nancy faltered.

“Oh, I’m so glad, GLAD, GLAD to see you,” cried an eager voice in her ear. “Of course I’m Pollyanna, and I’m so glad you came to meet me! I hoped you would.[10]”

“You did?” stammered Nancy.

“Oh, yes!” cried the little girl. “And I’m glad you look just like you do look.”

Timothy came up.

“This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,” she stammered.

“Yes, I have,” nodded Pollyanna, importantly. “I’ve got a brand-new one.

The Ladies’ Aid[11] bought it for me.”

The three were off at last, with Pollyanna’s trunk in behind, and Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced between Nancy and Timothy. During the whole process of getting started, the little girl kept up an uninterrupted stream of comments and questions.

“There! Isn’t this lovely? Is it far? I hope it is – I love to ride,” sighed Pollyanna. What a pretty street! I knew it was going to be pretty;[12] father told me – ”

She stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy saw that her small chin was quivering, and that her eyes were full of tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with a brave lifting of her head.

“Father has gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of us, you know. He said I must be glad. But it’s pretty hard to, because I need him, as mother and the rest have God and all the angels, while I don’t have anybody but the Ladies’ Aid. But now I’m sure it’ll be easier because I’ve got you, Aunt Polly. I’m so glad I’ve got you!”

“Oh, but – but you’ve made an awful mistake, dear,[13]” she faltered. “I’m only Nancy. I’m not your Aunt Polly!”

“You – you AREN’T?” stammered the little girl.

“No. I’m only Nancy. I never thought you’re taking me for her.”

Timothy chuckled softly.

“But who ARE you?” asked Pollyanna.

“I’m Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work except the washing and

ironing.”

“But there IS an Aunt Polly?” demanded the child, anxiously.

“You bet your life there is,[14]” cut in Timothy.

Pollyanna relaxed visibly.

“Oh, that’s all right, then.” There was a moment’s silence, then she went on

brightly: “And do you know? I’m glad, after all, that she didn’t come to meet me; because now I’ve got you besides.”

“I–I was thinking about Miss Polly,” faltered Nancy.

Pollyanna sighed contentedly.

“I was, too. I’m so interested in her. You know she’s all the aunt I’ve got,

and I didn’t know I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. He said she lived in a lovely great big house “on top of a hill.”

“She does. You can see it now,” said Nancy. “It’s that big white one with the green blinds.”

“Oh, how pretty! – and what a lot of trees and grass all around it! I never saw such a lot of green grass. Is my Aunt Polly rich, Nancy?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I’m so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have lots of money. Does Aunt Polly have ice-cream Sundays?”

“No, Miss. Your aunt doesn’t like ice-cream.”

Pollyanna’s face fell.[15]

“Oh, doesn’t she? I’m so sorry! Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets,

though.”

“Yes, she’s got the carpets.”

“In every room?”

“Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, thinking about the attic

room where there was no carpet.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” exulted Pollyanna. “I love carpets. And Mrs. White had

pictures, too, perfectly beautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a lion. Don’t you just love pictures?”

“I don’t know,” answered Nancy.

“I do. But we didn’t have any pictures. My![16] but isn’t this a perfectly beautiful house?” she broke off.