Pollyanna picked up the chair.
"Yes'm; I know I banged 'em--those doors," she admitted
cheerfully. "You see I'd just found out about the room, and I
reckon you'd have banged doors if--" Pollyanna stopped short and
eyed her aunt with new interest. "Aunt Polly, DID you ever bang
doors?"
"I hope--not, Pollyanna!" Miss Polly's voice was properly
shocked.
"Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame!" Pollyanna's face expressed only
concerned sympathy.
"A shame!" repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to say more.
"Why, yes. You see, if you'd felt like banging doors you'd have
banged 'em, of course; and if you didn't, that must have meant
that you weren't ever glad over anything--or you would have
banged 'em. You couldn't have helped it. And I'm so sorry you
weren't ever glad over anything!"
"PollyANna!" gasped the lady; but Pollyanna was gone, and only
the distant bang of the attic-stairway door answered for her.
Pollyanna had gone to help Nancy bring down "her things."
Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed;--but
then, of course she HAD been glad--over some things!
CHAPTER XI.
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