She was plunging into an
entirely different sentence when her aunt interrupted her
sharply.
"What's that, Pollyanna?"
"N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didn't mean to say it."
"Probably not," returned Miss Polly, coldly; "but you did say it,
so suppose we have the rest of it."
"But it wasn't anything only that I'd been kind of planning on
pretty carpets and lace curtains and things, you know. But, of
course--"
"PLANNING on them!" interrupted Miss Polly, sharply.
Pollyanna blushed still more painfully.
"I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly," she apologized. "It
was only because I'd always wanted them and hadn't had them, I
suppose. Oh, we'd had two rugs in the barrels, but they were
little, you know, and one had ink spots, and the other holes; and
there never were only those two pictures; the one fath--I mean
the good one we sold, and the bad one that broke. Of course if it
hadn't been for all that I shouldn't have wanted them, so--pretty
things, I mean; and I shouldn't have got to planning all through
the hall that first day how pretty mine would be here, and--and
But, truly, Aunt Polly, it wasn't but just a minute--I mean, a
few minutes--before I was being glad that the bureau DIDN'T have
a looking-glass, because it didn't show my freckles; and there
couldn't be a nicer picture than the one out my window there; and
you've been so good to me, that--"
Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet.
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