CHAPTER XXVII
THE DAY POLLYANNA DID NOT PLAY
And so one by one the winter days passed. January and February slippedaway in snow and sleet, and March came in with a gale that whistledand moaned around the old house, and set loose blinds to swinging andloose gates to creaking in a way that was most trying to nervesalready stretched to the breaking point.
Pollyanna was not finding it very easy these days to play the game,but she was playing it faithfully, valiantly. Aunt Polly was notplaying it at all--which certainly did not make it any the easier forPollyanna to play it. Aunt Polly was blue and discouraged. She was notwell, too, and she had plainly abandoned herself to utter gloom.
Pollyanna still was counting on the prize contest. She had droppedfrom the first prize to one of the smaller ones, however: Pollyannahad been writing more stories, and the regularity with which they cameback from their pilgrimages to magazine editors was beginning to shakeher faith in her success as an author.
"Oh, well, I can be glad that Aunt Polly doesn't know anything aboutit, anyway," declared Pollyanna to herself bravely, as she twisted inher fingers the "declined-with-thanks" slip that had just towed in onemore shipwrecked story. "She CAN'T worry about this--she doesn't knowabout it!"
All of Pollyanna's life these days revolved around Aunt Polly, and itis doubtful if even Aunt Polly herself realized how exacting she hadbecome, and how entirely her niece was giving up her life to her.
It was on a particularly gloomy day in March that matters came, in away, to a climax. Pollyanna, upon arising, had looked at the sky witha sigh--Aunt Polly was always more difficult on cloudy days. With agay little song, however, that still sounded a bit forced--Pollyannadescended to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast.
"I reckon I'll make corn muffins," she told the stove confidentially;"then maybe Aunt Polly won't mind--other things so much."
Half an hour later she tapped at her aunt's door.
"Up so soon? Oh, that's fine! And you've done your hair yourself!"
"I couldn't sleep. I had to get up," sighed Aunt Polly, wearily. "Ihad to do my hair, too. YOU weren't here."
"But I didn't suppose you were ready for me, auntie," explainedPollyanna, hurriedly. "Never mind, though. You'll be glad I wasn'twhen you find what I've been doing."
"Well, I sha'n't--not this morning," frowned Aunt Polly, perversely."Nobody could be glad this morning. Look at it rain! That makes thethird rainy day this week."
"That's so--but you know the sun never seems quite so perfectly lovelyas it does after a lot of rain like this," smiled Pollyanna, deftlyarranging a bit of lace and ribbon at her aunt's throat. "Now come.Breakfast's all ready. Just you wait till you see what I've got foryou."
Aunt Polly, however, was not to be diverted, even by corn muffins,this morning. Nothing was right, nothing was even endurable, as shefelt; and Pollyanna's patience was sorely taxed before the meal wasover. To make matters worse, the roof over the east attic window wasfound to be leaking, and an unpleasant letter came in the mail.Pollyanna, true to her creed, laughingly declared that, for her part,she was glad they had a roof--to leak; and that, as for the letter,she'd been expecting it for a week, anyway, and she was actually gladshe wouldn't have to worry any more for fear it would come. ItCOULDN'T come now, because it HAD come; and 'twas over with.
All this, together with sundry other hindrances and annoyances,delayed the usual morning work until far into the afternoon--somethingthat was always particularly displeasing to methodical Aunt Polly, whoordered her own life, preferably, by the tick of the clock.
"But it's half-past three, Pollyanna, already! Did you know it?" shefretted at last. "And you haven't made the beds yet."
"No, dearie, but I will. Don't worry."
"But, did you hear what I said? Look at the clock, child. It's afterthree o'clock!"
"So 'tis, but never mind, Aunt Polly. We can be glad 'tisn't afterfour."
Aunt Polly sniffed her disdain.
"I suppose YOU can," she observed tartly.
Pollyanna laughed.
"Well, you see, auntie, clocks ARE accommodating things, when you stopto think about it. I found that out long ago at the Sanatorium. When Iwas doing something that I liked, and I didn't WANT the time to gofast, I'd just look at the hour hand, and I'd feel as if I had lots oftime--it went so slow. Then, other days, when I had to keep somethingthat hurt on for an hour, maybe, I'd watch the little second hand; andyou see then I felt as if Old Time was just humping himself to help meout by going as fast as ever he could. Now I'm watching the hour handto-day, 'cause I don't want Time to go fast. See?" she twinkledmischievously, as she hurried from the room, before Aunt Polly hadtime to answer.
It was certainly a hard day, and by night Pollyanna looked pale andworn out. This, too, was a source of worriment to Aunt Polly.
"Dear me, child, you look tired to death!" she fumed. "WHAT we'regoing to do I don't know. I suppose YOU'LL be sick next!"
"Nonsense, auntie! I'm not sick a bit," declared Pollyanna, droppingherself with a sigh on to the couch. "But I AM tired. My! how goodthis couch feels! I'm glad I'm tired, after all--it's so nice torest."
Aunt Polly turned with an impatient gesture.
"Glad--glad--glad! Of course you're glad, Pollyanna. You're alwaysglad for everything. I never saw such a girl. Oh, yes, I know it's thegame," she went on, in answer to the look that came to Pollyanna'sface. "And it's a very good game, too; but I think you carry italtogether too far. This eternal doctrine of 'it might be worse' hasgot on my nerves, Pollyanna. Honestly, it would be a real relief ifyou WOULDN'T be glad for something, sometime!"
"Why, auntie!" Pollyanna pulled herself half erect.
"Well, it would. You just try it sometime, and see."
"But, auntie, I--" Pollyanna stopped and eyed her aunt reflectively.An odd look came to her eyes; a slow smile curved her lips. Mrs.Chilton, who had turned back to her work, paid no heed; and, after aminute, Pollyanna lay back on the couch without finishing hersentence, the curious smile still on her lips.
It was raining again when Pollyanna got up the next morning, and anortheast wind was still whistling down the chimney. Pollyanna at thewindow drew an involuntary sigh; but almost at once her face changed.
"Oh, well, I'm glad--" She clapped her hands to her lips. "Dear me,"she chuckled softly, her eyes dancing, "I shall forget--I know Ishall; and that'll spoil it all! I must just remember not to be gladfor anything--not ANYTHING to-day."
Pollyanna did not make corn muffins that morning. She started thebreakfast, then went to her aunt's room.
Mrs. Chilton was still in bed.
"I see it rains, as usual," she observed, by way of greeting.
"Yes, it's horrid--perfectly horrid," scolded Pollyanna. "It's rained'most every day this week, too. I hate such weather."
Aunt Polly turned with a faint surprise in her eyes; but Pollyanna waslooking the other way.
"Are you going to get up now?" she asked a little wearily.
"Why, y-yes," murmured Aunt Polly, still with that faint surprise inher eyes. "What's the matter, Pollyanna? Are you especially tired?"
"Yes, I am tired this morning. I didn't sleep well, either. I hate notto sleep. Things always plague so in the night, when you wake up."
"I guess I know that," fretted Aunt Polly. "I didn't sleep a winkafter two o'clock myself. And there's that roof! How are we going tohave it fixed, pray, if it never stops raining? Have you been up toempty the pans?"
"Oh, yes--and took up some more. There's a new leak now, furtherover."
"A new one! Why, it'll all be leaking yet!"
Pollyanna opened her lips. She had almost said, "Well, we can be gladto have it fixed all at once, then," when she suddenly remembered, andsubstituted, in a tired voice:
"Very likely it will, auntie. It looks like it now, fast enough.Anyway, it's made fuss enough for a whole roof already, and I'm sickof it!" With which statement, Pollyanna, her face carefully averted,turned and trailed lis
tlessly out of the room.
"It's so funny and so--so hard, I'm afraid I'm making a mess of it,"she whispered to herself anxiously, as she hurried down-stairs to thekitchen.
Behind her, Aunt Polly, in the bedroom, gazed after her with eyes thatwere again faintly puzzled.
Aunt Polly had occasion a good many times before six o'clock thatnight to gaze at Pollyanna with surprised and questioning eyes.Nothing was right with Pollyanna. The fire would not burn, the windblew one particular blind loose three times, and still a third leakwas discovered in the roof. The mail brought to Pollyanna a letterthat made her cry (though no amount of questioning on Aunt Polly'spart would persuade her to tell why). Even the dinner went wrong, andinnumerable things happened in the afternoon to call out fretful,discouraged remarks.
Not until the day was more than half gone did a look of shrewdsuspicion suddenly fight for supremacy with the puzzled questioning inAunt Polly's eyes. If Pollyanna saw this she made no sign. Certainlythere was no abatement in her fretfulness and discontent. Long beforesix o'clock, however, the suspicion in Aunt Polly's eyes becameconviction, and drove to ignominious defeat the puzzled questioning.But, curiously enough then, a new look came to take its place, a lookthat was actually a twinkle of amusement.
At last, after a particularly doleful complaint on Pollyanna's part,Aunt Polly threw up her hands with a gesture of half-laughing despair.
"That'll do, that'll do, child! I'll give up. I'll confess myselfbeaten at my own game. You can be--GLAD for that, if you like," shefinished with a grim smile.
"I know, auntie, but you said--" began Pollyanna demurely.
"Yes, yes, but I never will again," interrupted Aunt Polly, withemphasis. "Mercy, what a day this has been! I never want to livethrough another like it." She hesitated, flushed a little, then wenton with evident difficulty: "Furthermore, I--I want you to knowthat--that I understand I haven't played the game myself--very well,lately; but, after this, I'm going to--to try--WHERE'S myhandkerchief?" she finished sharply, fumbling in the folds of herdress.
Pollyanna sprang to her feet and crossed instantly to her aunt's side.
"Oh, but Aunt Polly, I didn't mean--It was just a--a joke," shequavered in quick distress. "I never thought of your taking it THATway."
"Of course you didn't," snapped Aunt Polly, with all the asperity of astern, repressed woman who abhors scenes and sentiment, and who ismortally afraid she will show that her heart has been touched. "Don'tyou suppose I know you didn't mean it that way? Do you think, if Ithought you HAD been trying to teach me a lesson that I'd--I'd--" ButPollyanna's strong young arms had her in a close embrace, and shecould not finish the sentence.