"You see, I got to thinking on the way
here--what if you should say tripe, or onions, or something like
that, that I didn't have! Wouldn't it have been a shame--when I'd
tried so hard?" she laughed merrily.
There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to be trying--mentally
to find something she had lost.
"There! I'm to leave them all," announced Pollyanna, as she
arranged the three bowls in a row on the table. "Like enough
it'll be lamb broth you want to-morrow. How do you do to-day?"
she finished in polite inquiry.
"Very poorly, thank you," murmured Mrs. Snow, falling back into
her usual listless attitude. "I lost my nap this morning. Nellie
Higgins next door has begun music lessons, and her practising
drives me nearly wild. She was at it all the morning--every
minute! I'm sure, I don't know what I shall do!"
Polly nodded sympathetically.
"I know. It IS awful! Mrs. White had it once--one of my Ladies'
Aiders, you know. She had rheumatic fever, too, at the same time,
so she couldn't thrash 'round.
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