Most eagerly of all her mind turned to
the wondrously exciting problem about to be solved: behind which
of all these fascinating doors was waiting now her room--the
dear, beautiful room full of curtains, rugs, and pictures, that
was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, her aunt opened a door
and ascended another stairway.
There was little to be seen here. A bare wall rose on either
side. At the top of the stairs, wide reaches of shadowy space led
to far corners where the roof came almost down to the floor, and
where were stacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot and
stifling, too. Unconsciously Pollyanna lifted her head higher--it
seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown
open a door at the right.
"There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here, I
see. Have you your key?"
Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were a little wide and
frightened.
Her aunt frowned.
"When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should
answer aloud not merely with your head.
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