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“Miss Pollyanna, what a scare you did give me,
[21]” panted Nancy,
hurrying up to the big rock.
“Scare? Oh, I’m so sorry; but you mustn’t, really, ever get scared about me,
Nancy,” said Pollyanna and slid down the rock.
“I didn’t see you go, and nobody didn’t. I guess you flew right up through
the roof; I do, I do. Poor little lamb, you must be hungry, too. I–I’m afraid you’ll
have to have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Your aunt didn’t like it –
because you didn’t come down to supper.”
“But I couldn’t. I was up here. But I’m glad.”
“Glad! Why?”
“I like bread and milk, and I’d like to eat with you. I don’t see any trouble
about being glad about that.”
“You don’t seem to see any trouble being glad about everything,” retorted
Nancy.
Pollyanna laughed softly.
“Well, that’s the game, you know, anyway.”
“The – GAME?”
“Yes; the ‘just being glad’ game.
[22]”
“Whatever in the world are you talking about?”
“Why, it’s a game. Father told it to me, and it’s lovely. We’ve played it
always, ever since I was a little, little girl. I told the Ladies’ Aid, and they played
it – some of them… Only sometimes it’s almost too hard especially when your
father goes to Heaven… I suppose, though, it’ll be a little harder now, as long as
I haven’t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will play it, though,” she
added.
“See here, Miss Pollyanna, I’m not sure that I’ll play it very well, and I
don’t know how but I’ll play it with you, I will!”
“Oh, Nancy! That’ll be splendid!”
“Maybe,” said Nancy, in open doubt. “You mustn’t count too much
[23] on
me but I’ll try to play it with you,” she finished, as they entered the kitchen
together.
Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite and went into the
sitting room, where her aunt sat reading. Miss Polly looked up coldly.
“Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?”
“Yes, Aunt Polly.”
“I’m very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you
into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.
[24]”
“But I was really glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and
Nancy, too. You mustn’t feel bad about that.”
Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair.
“Pollyanna, go to bed. It was a hard day, and tomorrow we must plan your
hours and go over your clothing to see what it is necessary to get for you. Nancy
will give you a candle. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. Good night.”
Pollyanna came straight to her aunt’s side and gave her an affectionate
hug.
[25]
“I know I’m going to just love living with you but then. Good night,” she
said cheerfully, as she ran from the room.
“What a most extraordinary child!” Aunt Polly said. Then she frowned.
“She’s ‘glad’ I punished her, and I ‘mustn’t feel bad about that,’ and she’s going
to ‘love to live’ with me! Well, upon my soul!”
Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the
sheet:
“I know, father-among-the-angels, I’m not playing the game; I don’t believe
even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone in the dark. If
only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies’ Aider, it would be
easier!
Nancy agrees to play the game with Pollyanna, although she is unsure if she will be good at it. They go into the kitchen, where Pollyanna enjoys her bread and milk. Later, Pollyanna enters the sitting room where her aunt, Miss Polly, is reading. Miss Polly asks if Pollyanna has had her supper, and Pollyanna replies that she had bread and milk in the kitchen. Pollyanna reassures her aunt that she was glad to eat in the kitchen and that she likes bread and milk. Miss Polly, surprised by Pollyanna's response, tells her to go to bed and mentions that they will plan her schedule and clothing the next day.
Before leaving the room, Pollyanna hugs her aunt and expresses her love for living with her. Miss Polly finds Pollyanna's behavior extraordinary and reflects on her words. In her attic room, Pollyanna feels lonely and cries, believing that she is not playing the game properly. She wishes she were with Nancy, Aunt Polly, or someone from the Ladies' Aid, as it would make things easier for her.
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