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As
she
sat
now
,
with
the
letter
in
her
hands
,
her
thoughts
went
back
to
her
sister
,
Jennie
,
who
had
been
this
child
's
mother
,
and
to
the
time
when
Jennie
,
as
a
girl
of
twenty
,
had
insisted
upon
marrying
the
young
minister
,
in
spite
of
her
family
's
remonstrances
.
There
had
been
a
man
of
wealth
who
had
wanted
her
--
and
the
family
had
much
preferred
him
to
the
minister
;
but
Jennie
had
not
.
The
man
of
wealth
had
more
years
,
as
well
as
more
money
,
to
his
credit
,
while
the
minister
had
only
a
young
head
full
of
youth
's
ideals
and
enthusiasm
,
and
a
heart
full
of
love
.
Jennie
had
preferred
these
--
quite
naturally
,
perhaps
;
so
she
had
married
the
minister
,
and
had
gone
south
with
him
as
a
home
missionary
's
wife
.
The
break
had
come
then
.
Miss
Polly
remembered
it
well
,
though
she
had
been
but
a
girl
of
fifteen
,
the
youngest
,
at
the
time
.
The
family
had
had
little
more
to
do
with
the
missionary
's
wife
.
To
be
sure
,
Jennie
herself
had
written
,
for
a
time
,
and
had
named
her
last
baby
"
Pollyanna
"
for
her
two
sisters
,
Polly
and
Anna
--
the
other
babies
had
all
died
.
This
had
been
the
last
time
that
Jennie
had
written
;
and
in
a
few
years
there
had
come
the
news
of
her
death
,
told
in
a
short
,
but
heart-broken
little
note
from
the
minister
himself
,
dated
at
a
little
town
in
the
West
.
Meanwhile
,
time
had
not
stood
still
for
the
occupants
of
the
great
house
on
the
hill
.
Miss
Polly
,
looking
out
at
the
far-reaching
valley
below
,
thought
of
the
changes
those
twenty-five
years
had
brought
to
her
.
She
was
forty
now
,
and
quite
alone
in
the
world
.
Father
,
mother
,
sisters
--
all
were
dead
.
For
years
,
now
,
she
had
been
sole
mistress
of
the
house
and
of
the
thousands
left
her
by
her
father
.
There
were
people
who
had
openly
pitied
her
lonely
life
,
and
who
had
urged
her
to
have
some
friend
or
companion
to
live
with
her
;
but
she
had
not
welcomed
either
their
sympathy
or
their
advice
.
She
was
not
lonely
,
she
said
.
She
liked
being
by
herself
.
She
preferred
quiet
.
But
now
--
Miss
Polly
rose
with
frowning
face
and
closely-shut
lips
.
She
was
glad
,
of
course
,
that
she
was
a
good
woman
,
and
that
she
not
only
knew
her
duty
,
but
had
sufficient
strength
of
character
to
perform
it
.
But
--
POLLYANNA
!
--
what
a
ridiculous
name
!
In
the
little
attic
room
Nancy
swept
and
scrubbed
vigorously
,
paying
particular
attention
to
the
corners
.
There
were
times
,
indeed
,
when
the
vigor
she
put
into
her
work
was
more
of
a
relief
to
her
feelings
than
it
was
an
ardor
to
efface
dirt
--
Nancy
,
in
spite
of
her
frightened
submission
to
her
mistress
,
was
no
saint
.
"
I
--
just
--
wish
--
I
could
--
dig
--
out
the
corners
--
of
--
her
--
soul
!
"
she
muttered
jerkily
,
punctuating
her
words
with
murderous
jabs
of
her
pointed
cleaning-stick
.
"
There
's
plenty
of
'
em
needs
cleanin
'
all
right
,
all
right
!
The
idea
of
stickin
'
that
blessed
child
'
way
off
up
here
in
this
hot
little
room
--
with
no
fire
in
the
winter
,
too
,
and
all
this
big
house
ter
pick
and
choose
from
!
Unnecessary
children
,
indeed
!
Humph
!
"
snapped
Nancy
,
wringing
her
rag
so
hard
her
fingers
ached
from
the
strain
;
"
I
guess
it
ai
n't
CHILDREN
what
is
MOST
unnecessary
just
now
,
just
now
!
"
For
some
time
she
worked
in
silence
;
then
,
her
task
finished
,
she
looked
about
the
bare
little
room
in
plain
disgust
.
"
Well
,
it
's
done
--
my
part
,
anyhow
,
"
she
sighed
.
"
There
ai
n't
no
dirt
here
--
and
there
's
mighty
little
else
.
Poor
little
soul
!
--
a
pretty
place
this
is
ter
put
a
homesick
,
lonesome
child
into
!
"
she
finished
,
going
out
and
closing
the
door
with
a
bang
,
"
Oh
!
"
she
ejaculated
,
biting
her
lip
.
Then
,
doggedly
:
"
Well
,
I
do
n't
care
.
I
hope
she
did
hear
the
bang
,
--
I
do
,
I
do
!
"
