Snow?"
There was no answer. Mrs. Snow's eyes were closed. But Milly,
whose eyes were wide open with surprise, saw that there were
tears on the wasted cheeks.
"Good-by," flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, as she reached the
door. "I'm awfully sorry about the hair--I wanted to do it. But
maybe I can next time!"
One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, they were happy
days, indeed. She often told her aunt, joyously, how very happy
they were. Whereupon her aunt would usually reply, wearily:
"Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, that they are
happy; but I trust that they are profitable, as well--otherwise I
should have failed signally in my duty."
Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a hug and a kiss--a
proceeding that was still always most disconcerting to Miss
Polly; but one day she spoke. It was during the sewing hour.
"Do you mean that it wouldn't be enough then, Aunt Polly, that
they should be just happy days?" she asked wistfully.
"That is what I mean, Pollyanna.
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