Other mornings you will sew with me. That will
leave the afternoons for your music. I shall, of course, procure
a teacher at once for you," she finished decisively, as she arose
from her chair.
Pollyanna cried out in dismay.
"Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at
all just to--to live."
"To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all
the time!"
"Oh, of course I'd be BREATHING all the time I was doing those
things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the
time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living--doing
the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself,
of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and
Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and
everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I
came through yesterday. That's what I call living, Aunt Polly.
Just breathing isn't living!"
Miss Polly lifted her head irritably.
"Pollyanna, you ARE the most extraordinary child! You will be
allowed a proper amount of playtime, of course.
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