Next she bestowed frowning attention on the patched
undergarments in the bureau drawers.
"I've got the best ones on," confessed Pollyanna, anxiously. "The
Ladies' Aid bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs.
Jones--she's the president--told 'em I should have that if they
had to clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their
days. But they won't. Mr. White doesn't like the noise. He's got
nerves, his wife says; but he's got money, too, and they expect
he'll give a lot toward the carpet--on account of the nerves, you
know. I should think he'd be glad that if he did have the nerves
he'd got money, too; shouldn't you?"
Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the
undergarments finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat
abruptly.
"You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?"
"Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath--I mean, I was taught at home
some, too."
Miss Polly frowned.
"Very good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course.
Mr. Hall, the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you
belong.
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