She said 'twould have been easier
if she could have. Can you?"
"Can I--what?"
"Thrash 'round--move, you know, so as to change your position
when the music gets too hard to stand."
Mrs. Snow stared a little.
"Why, of course I can move--anywhere--in bed," she rejoined a
little irritably.
"Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow, can't you?" nodded
Pollyanna. "Mrs. White couldn't. You can't thrash when you have
rheumatic fever--though you want to something awful, Mrs. White
says. She told me afterwards she reckoned she'd have gone raving
crazy if it hadn't been for Mr. White's sister's ears--being
deaf, so."
"Sister's--EARS! What do you mean?"
Pollyanna laughed.
"Well, I reckon I didn't tell it all, and I forgot you didn't
know Mrs. White. You see, Miss White was deaf--awfully deaf; and
she came to visit 'em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the
house. Well, they had such an awful time making her understand
ANYTHING, that after that, every time the piano commenced to play
across the street, Mrs.
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