CHAPTER VII
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
Pollyanna's movements were most carefully watched over after heradventurous walk; and, except to go to school, she was not allowed outof the house unless Mary or Mrs. Carew herself accompanied her. This,to Pollyanna, however, was no cross, for she loved both Mrs. Carew andMary, and delighted to be with them. They were, too, for a while, verygenerous with their time. Even Mrs. Carew, in her terror of what mighthave happened, and her relief that it had not happened, exertedherself to entertain the child.
Thus it came about that, with Mrs. Carew, Pollyanna attended concertsand matinees, and visited the Public Library and the Art Museum; andwith Mary she took the wonderful "seeing Boston" trips, and visitedthe State House and the Old South Church.
Greatly as Pollyanna enjoyed the automobile, she enjoyed the trolleycars more, as Mrs. Carew, much to her surprise, found out one day.
"Do we go in the trolley car?" Pollyanna asked eagerly.
"No. Perkins will take us," answered Mrs. Carew. Then, at theunmistakable disappointment in Pollyanna's face, she added insurprise: "Why, I thought you liked the auto, child!"
"Oh, I do," acceded Pollyanna, hurriedly; "and I wouldn't sayanything, anyway, because of course I know it's cheaper than thetrolley car, and--"
"'Cheaper than the trolley car'!" exclaimed Mrs. Carew, amazed into aninterruption.
"Why, yes," explained Pollyanna, with widening eyes; "the trolley carcosts five cents a person, you know, and the auto doesn't costanything, 'cause it's yours. And of course I LOVE the auto, anyway,"she hurried on, before Mrs. Carew could speak. "It's only that thereare so many more people in the trolley car, and it's such fun to watchthem! Don't you think so?"
"Well, no, Pollyanna, I can't say that I do," responded Mrs. Carew,dryly, as she turned away.
As it chanced, not two days later, Mrs. Carew heard something more ofPollyanna and trolley cars--this time from Mary.
"I mean, it's queer, ma'am," explained Mary earnestly, in answer to aquestion her mistress had asked, "it's queer how Miss Pollyanna justgets 'round EVERYBODY--and without half trying. It isn't that she DOESanything. She doesn't. She just--just looks glad, I guess, that's all.But I've seen her get into a trolley car that was full ofcross-looking men and women, and whimpering children, and in fiveminutes you wouldn't know the place. The men and women have stoppedscowling, and the children have forgot what they're cryin' for.
"Sometimes it's just somethin' that Miss Pollyanna has said to me, andthey've heard it. Sometimes it's just the 'Thank you,' she gives whensomebody insists on givin' us their seat--and they're always doin'that--givin' us seats, I mean. And sometimes it's the way she smilesat a baby or a dog. All dogs everywhere wag their tails at her,anyway, and all babies, big and little, smile and reach out to her. Ifwe get held up it's a joke, and if we take the wrong car, it's thefunniest thing that ever happened. And that's the way 'tis abouteverythin'. One just can't stay grumpy, with Miss Pollyanna, even ifyou're only one of a trolley car full of folks that don't know her."
"Hm-m; very likely," murmured Mrs. Carew, turning away.
October proved to be, that year, a particularly warm, delightfulmonth, and as the golden days came and went, it was soon very evidentthat to keep up with Pollyanna's eager little feet was a task whichwould consume altogether too much of somebody's time and patience;and, while Mrs. Carew had the one, she had not the other, neither hadshe the willingness to allow Mary to spend quite so much of HER time(whatever her patience might be) in dancing attendance to Pollyanna'swhims and fancies.
To keep the child indoors all through those glorious Octoberafternoons was, of course, out of the question. Thus it came aboutthat, before long, Pollyanna found herself once more in the "lovelybig yard"--the Boston Public Garden--and alone. Apparently she was asfree as before, but in reality she was surrounded by a high stone wallof regulations.
She must not talk to strange men or women; she must not play withstrange children; and under no circumstances must she step footoutside the Garden except to come home. Furthermore, Mary, who hadtaken her to the Garden and left her, made very sure that she knew theway home--that she knew just where Commonwealth Avenue came down toArlington Street across from the Garden. And always she must go homewhen the clock in the church tower said it was half-past four.
Pollyanna went often to the Garden after this. Occasionally she wentwith some of the girls from school. More often she went alone. Inspite of the somewhat irksome restrictions she enjoyed herself verymuch. She could WATCH the people even if she could not talk to them;and she could talk to the squirrels and pigeons and sparrows that soeagerly came for the nuts and grain which she soon learned to carry tothem every time she went.
Pollyanna often looked for her old friends of that first day--the manwho was so glad he had his eyes and legs and arms, and the prettyyoung lady who would not go with the handsome man; but she never sawthem. She did frequently see the boy in the wheel chair, and shewished she could talk to him. The boy fed the birds and squirrels,too, and they were so tame that the doves would perch on his head andshoulders, and the squirrels would burrow in his pockets for nuts. ButPollyanna, watching from a distance, always noticed one strangecircumstance: in spite of the boy's very evident delight in servinghis banquet, his supply of food always ran short almost at once; andthough he invariably looked fully as disappointed as did the squirrelafter a nutless burrowing, yet he never remedied the matter bybringing more food the next day--which seemed most short-sighted toPollyanna.
When the boy was not playing with the birds and squirrels he wasreading--always reading. In his chair were usually two or three wornbooks, and sometimes a magazine or two. He was nearly always to befound in one especial place, and Pollyanna used to wonder how he gotthere. Then, one unforgettable day, she found out. It was a schoolholiday, and she had come to the Garden in the forenoon; and it wassoon after she reached the place that she saw him being wheeled alongone of the paths by a snub-nosed, sandy-haired boy. She gave a keenglance into the sandy-haired boy's face, then ran toward him with aglad little cry.
"Oh, you--you! I know you--even if I don't know your name. You foundme! Don't you remember? Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I've so wanted tosay thank you!"
"Gee, if it ain't the swell little lost kid of the AveNOO!" grinnedthe boy. "Well, what do you know about that! Lost again?"
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Pollyanna, dancing up and down on her toes inirrepressible joy. "I can't get lost any more--I have to stay righthere. And I mustn't talk, you know. But I can to you, for I KNOW you;and I can to him--after you introduce me," she finished, with abeaming glance at the lame boy, and a hopeful pause.
The sandy-haired youth chuckled softly, and tapped the shoulder of theboy in the chair.
"Listen ter that, will ye? Ain't that the real thing, now? Just youwait while I introDOOCE ye!" And he struck a pompous attitude. "Madam,this is me friend, Sir James, Lord of Murphy's Alley, and--" But theboy in the chair interrupted him.
"Jerry, quit your nonsense!" he cried vexedly. Then to Pollyanna heturned a glowing face. "I've seen you here lots of times before. I'vewatched you feed the birds and squirrels--you always have such a lotfor them! And I think YOU like Sir Lancelot the best, too. Of course,there's the Lady Rowena--but wasn't she rude to Guinevereyesterday--snatching her dinner right away from her like that?"
Pollyanna blinked and frowned, looking from one to the other of theboys in plain doubt. Jerry chuckled again. Then, with a final push hewheeled the chair into its usual position, and turned to go. Over hisshoulder he called to Pollyanna:
"Say, kid, jest let me put ye wise ter somethin'. This chap ain'tdrunk nor crazy. See? Them's jest names he's give his young friendshere,"--with a flourish of his arms toward the furred and featheredcreatures that were gathering from all directions. "An' they ain'teven names of FOLKS. They're just guys out of books. Are ye on? Yethe'd ruther feed them than feed hisself. Ain't he the limit? Ta-ta,Sir James," he added, with a grimace, to the boy
in the chair. "Buckup, now--nix on the no grub racket for you! See you later." And he wasgone.
Pollyanna was still blinking and frowning when the lame boy turnedwith a smile.
"You mustn't mind Jerry. That's just his way. He'd cut off his righthand for me--Jerry would; but he loves to tease. Where'd you see him?Does he know you? He didn't tell me your name."
"I'm Pollyanna Whittier. I was lost and he found me and took me home,"answered Pollyanna, still a little dazedly.
"I see. Just like him," nodded the boy. "Don't he tote me up hereevery day?"
A quick sympathy came to Pollyanna's eyes.
"Can't you walk--at all--er--Sir J-James?"
The boy laughed gleefully.
"'Sir James,' indeed! That's only more of Jerry's nonsense. I ain't a'Sir.'"
Pollyanna looked clearly disappointed.
"You aren't? Nor a--a lord, like he said?"
"I sure ain't."
"Oh, I hoped you were--like Little Lord Fauntleroy, you know,"rejoined Pollyanna. "And--"
But the boy interrupted her with an eager:
"Do YOU know Little Lord Fauntleroy? And do you know about SirLancelot, and the Holy Grail, and King Arthur and his Round Table, andthe Lady Rowena, and Ivanhoe, and all those? DO you?"
Pollyanna gave her head a dubious shake.
"Well, I'm afraid maybe I don't know ALL of 'em," she admitted. "Arethey all--in books?"
The boy nodded.
"I've got 'em here--some of 'em," he said. "I like to read 'em overand over. There's always SOMETHING new in 'em. Besides, I hain't gotno others, anyway. These were father's. Here, you little rascal--quitthat!" he broke off in laughing reproof as a bushy-tailed squirrelleaped to his lap and began to nose in his pockets. "Gorry, guess we'dbetter give them their dinner or they'll be tryin' to eat us,"chuckled the boy. "That's Sir Lancelot. He's always first, you know."
From somewhere the boy produced a small pasteboard box which he openedguardedly, mindful of the numberless bright little eyes that werewatching every move. All about him now sounded the whir and flutter ofwings, the cooing of doves, the saucy twitter of the sparrows. SirLancelot, alert and eager, occupied one arm of the wheel chair.Another bushy-tailed little fellow, less venturesome, sat back on hishaunches five feet away. A third squirrel chattered noisily on aneighboring tree-branch.
From the box the boy took a few nuts, a small roll, and a doughnut. Atthe latter he looked longingly, hesitatingly.
"Did you--bring anything?" he asked then.
"Lots--in here," nodded Pollyanna, tapping the paper bag she carried.
"Oh, then perhaps I WILL eat it to-day," sighed the boy, dropping thedoughnut back into the box with an air of relief.
Pollyanna, on whom the significance of this action was quite lost,thrust her fingers into her own bag, and the banquet was on.
It was a wonderful hour. To Pollyanna it was, in a way, the mostwonderful hour she had ever spent, for she had found some one whocould talk faster and longer than she could. This strange youth seemedto have an inexhaustible fund of marvelous stories of brave knightsand fair ladies, of tournaments and battles. Moreover, so vividly didhe draw his pictures that Pollyanna saw with her own eyes the deeds ofvalor, the knights in armor, and the fair ladies with their jeweledgowns and tresses, even though she was really looking at a flock offluttering doves and sparrows and a group of frisking squirrels on awide sweep of sunlit grass.
"It was a wonderful hour"]
The Ladies' Aiders were forgotten. Even the glad game was not thoughtof. Pollyanna, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes was trailingdown the golden ages led by a romance-fed boy who--though she did notknow it--was trying to crowd into this one short hour of congenialcompanionship countless dreary days of loneliness and longing.
Not until the noon bells sent Pollyanna hurrying homeward did sheremember that she did not even yet know the boy's name.
"I only know it isn't 'Sir James,'" she sighed to herself, frowningwith vexation. "But never mind. I can ask him to-morrow."